How to Lead a Life of Crime

  “What are we supposed to do?” asks Max.

  “It’s simple. See the name on your file? Find the guy and offer to sell the documents back to him, one at a time. They’ll pay whatever you ask. You’ll all be filthy rich.”

  “We’ll be dead,” Julian argues.

  “No. I made duplicates of all the files. Let the investors know that if you disappear, a copy of the entire file will be sent straight to the New York Times. No one’s going to mess with you if they know the files could end up going public.”

  “And what if you disappear?” Leila asks.

  “Or decide you want it all for yourself?” adds Julian.

  “If you don’t trust me, come up with something better. You guys have got to stop taking those pills and start acting like predators. A couple of you might end up getting caught. But so what? Look around—the odds are in your favor. And the rewards couldn’t get any bigger. Riches and revenge. I’d say that’s the perfect combination.”

  “When are we supposed to make a break for it?” Austin asks.

  “Monday night,” Joi says. “The entire academy will be gathered in the atrium to watch Flick execute Gwendolyn. It’s going to be a fabulous show. No one’s going to notice if the rest of us disappear.”

  “Flick is going to kill Gwendolyn?” Julian asks.

  “That’s the price he has to pay for his freedom. If he succeeds, he can follow us when he’s finished.”

  “And what if someone decides to stay?” Caleb inquires.

  “Do what you want, Caleb, but if you get in our way, the rest of us will have to kill you.”

  It’s a nice touch, and Joi couldn’t be more convincing. The Wolves seem to believe it’s all true. And if anything goes wrong, it will be.

  • • •

  “Damn, that was impressive,” I tell Joi once the others have left. The firework display has finished, and the city is dark “I was worried they weren’t going to go for it.”

  “Yeah, because Mandel’s had them all doped up on Exceletrex.”

  “We didn’t know for sure they’d been taking it.”

  “We do now,” Joi points out.

  “I gotta admit. You’ve handled everything perfectly. And I still can’t believe Curly actually burgled the boss.”

  Joi grins. “When you said he couldn’t do it, that’s when I knew for sure that he could. If people think you can’t do anything, you can get away with everything,” she says. “No one’s worthless. That’s the lesson Mandel’s going to learn.”

  And the one she’s been trying to teach me all along.

  “So you have everything ready for Monday?” I ask.

  “Yep. Curly didn’t forget a thing.” Joi pulls her medical kit out of the black bag. I can’t help but notice that there’s still one file inside. “I have all the surgical supplies a girl could possibly need.”

  “Are you going to have enough time to remove all the chips?”

  “Mandel will have his employees out hunting down the Wolves, and he’ll think I’ve gone with them. He’ll have to lock the rest of the kids in their rooms. I’m guessing I’ll have a few hours to make my rounds.”

  “You really think all the Androids should be allowed to escape?”

  “Why don’t we try calling them something else for a change,” Joi says. “They’re not Androids. They’re prisoners. And yes—they all deserve to go.”

  I’d rather not keep poking holes in Joi’s plan. I just want to make sure that she’s really thought it all through. “The infirmary nurse told me that the chips are inserted right next to an artery. Are you sure you can remove forty-six chips without killing anyone?”

  “My mother used to treat hundreds of patients each day. She taught me how to work quickly.”

  “I always wondered where you learned how to stitch people up. Your mom was a doctor?”

  “She didn’t have a degree. She was still training to be a surgeon when the war in Bosnia broke out.”

  I recognize the expression that’s just appeared on Joi’s face. I’ve seen it on my own reflection, but I’ve never seen her wear it before.

  “Go ahead. You can ask,” she says.

  “How did she meet your father?” It’s the politest way to phrase the question that’s bouncing around in my brain. How in the hell does a medical student end up with a war criminal?

  “My mother’s husband was murdered during the Siege of Sarajevo, and she was put in the detention camp that my father ran. That’s where they ‘met.’ And that’s where I was born.” Joi’s voice has the robotic quality of someone trying not to cry. “I was meant to humble her.”

  This isn’t a romance. It’s a horror story. But I have to force myself to listen. No matter how bad it gets. And I can tell it’s going to get a whole lot worse.

  “When the war ended, my mother couldn’t go home. Her family never would have accepted me. So we lived in refugee camps all over Bosnia that were filled with women and children just like us. Everyone seemed to be sick, and my mother was one of the few people around who could help them. She spent the last week of her life trying to save a baby with typhoid. The baby lived, but my mother caught the fever. She died because there weren’t enough antibiotics left in the camp to save her. I don’t know what would have happened to me if an American doctor hadn’t heard the story. I was fourteen years old, and I had nowhere to go, so she brought me back to the States with her. I had a beautiful room in her house in New Jersey, and I was grateful. But it wasn’t where I belonged. So after a few weeks, I left.”

  “I’m sorry, Joi.” There’s nothing else I can say. I try to take her in my arms, but Joi steps back and wipes her eyes with the collar of her T-shirt. She wants to finish speaking while she’s still able.

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I told you about my mother for a reason. So you’d know that I had one too.”

  What is she trying to say? Joi knows nothing about my mom. Does she think my mother was anything like the saint she just described? Joi’s mother never abandoned her. Her mother didn’t swallow an entire bottle of Valium. Her mother didn’t follow one son to the grave and leave the other all alone in a world filled with monsters. Her mother didn’t disappear without saying goodbye. The way my mother did.

  I wish I could be like Joi. So trusting. So hopeful. I suppose I was once, a long time ago. When I was little, I really believed that my mother, brother, and I would manage to beat the monster one day. We’d find a place to hide where we couldn’t be found. Because Jude and my mother were the heroes of my story. And in every story I’d ever read, the good guys always made it out alive.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell Joi.

  “I do. I understand everything now. I know why you came here, Flick. If I got a chance, I’d try to hurt your dad too.”

  “That’s why I came. It’s not why I’ve stayed.”

  “I know. But maybe it’s time for you to go.” Joi dips her hand back into the bag and pulls out the last file. “I added another name to the list we gave Curly. This one’s for Peter Pan.”

  I can see my father’s name on the label. But I won’t touch the file. “I don’t want it.”

  “I read it, Flick. There are pictures, too. I’ve seen what your father did to the rest of your family.” She can’t stop the tears now. “Jude looked just like you.” Her last sentence is almost a wail.

  “Jude is dead. So is my mother.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. “There’s no way to help them. I need to stay here with you now.”

  “You can’t!” Joi sobs. “This is your last chance. I can remove your chip tonight. If you leave this weekend, your father won’t know you’re coming. After Monday, he’ll be expecting you. He’ll be prepared.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her.

  “No, it’s not! You have to go, Flick.”

  “What about Gwendolyn’s execution? What about the show I’m supposed to put on Monday night?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll figur
e something out. I can handle the rest of this on my own.”

  “I know you can,” I say. “But I’m not going to let you. My family is gone. You’re my one good thing now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  * * *

  DINNER FOR TWO

  The entire school has turned out to watch me kill Gwendolyn. Dinner has finished, and there’s an hour left before curfew. The battle will take place at the bottom of the atrium. Ghosts and Androids encircle the second-floor balcony. The Wolves will be allowed a ringside view. As far as I know, there are only two exits on the school’s ground floor—the front door and the service exit. They both remain locked throughout the day. But that doesn’t pose much of a problem if you happen to have the headmaster’s key.

  Joi and Mandel spent the holiday weekend planning the spectacle. Every detail was decided in advance. Gwendolyn and I were both met outside our sixth-period classes by teams of Wolves dressed in black, their faces hidden beneath executioners’ masks. They escorted us to our rooms, where pristine white outfits were laid out on our beds. Once we had dressed, we were taken to the ground floor. Two chairs had been placed in the center of the atrium, right above the words Luctor et emergo.The Wolves strapped our wrists to the arms of our chairs, then blended back into the shadows. Ella was left to guard us.

  We’ve been sitting here for over four hours. A couple of spectators have kept us company the whole time. Everyone has seen us, and now they’re all back. The wait has been much worse than I anticipated. Gwendolyn keeps rocking in her seat and whispering to the walls. She won’t obey Ella’s orders to be silent. I can’t bear to look over at her. Her eyes are glassy, and there’s a huge patch of hair missing on one side of her head. I managed to ignore her whispers for the first hour or so. But they’ve crawled in through my ears and they’re starting to eat away at my mind.

  I’m on the verge of screaming when I see one of the elevators begin to rise. It climbs all the way to the top, where it picks up a single passenger. Mandel will be making his debut as a god tonight, descending from the heavens to watch the human sacrifice being made in his name. He comes into view as the elevator passes the sixth floor. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit with a black shirt and tie. But it’s the simpering smile on his face that makes it all truly sinister.

  The elevator arrives, and Mandel steps out with a surgical scalpel in one hand. He approaches Gwendolyn, pauses long enough for everyone to get a good look at the blade. Then he cuts the straps that bind her wrists. Next, he frees my arms.

  “Stand,” he orders. That’s Joi’s cue. The time has come for the Dux to address the crowd.

  Gwendolyn and I face each other. She has no idea that she’s about to receive a last-minute reprieve. There’s a long pause while we all wait for Joi. The contest can’t begin without her.

  At last, Mandel turns to Ella. “Where is the Dux?” he asks.

  “I haven’t seen her since Flick and Gwendolyn were brought downstairs,” Ella responds.

  “Where is she?” he hisses at me.

  “How should I know? I’ve been tied to a chair for the past four hours,” I point out. “You’re the one who monitors the chips. Don’t tell me you weren’t paying attention this evening.”

  “She must be with the others,” Ella says. “Wherever they are.”

  “The others?” Mandel asks as his eyes circle the ground floor.

  That’s when Gwendolyn starts to laugh. It’s a high-pitched cackle that sounds more hyena than human. It ricochets off the walls of the atrium. Gwendolyn’s lost what little is left of her mind, and Mandel looks disgusted. Until he finally realizes what’s funny.

  “Everyone to your rooms!” he shouts at the crowd. “This instant!”

  He charges toward the elevator, slides the gates open, and points inside.

  “You too,” he growls at me.

  • • •

  I find Joi in my bathroom. Her scalpel, needles, and thread are laid out on the side of the sink. The chair from my desk is waiting for me. I kiss her once before I remove my shirt and take a seat. Joi clips my hair back with one of her own bobby pins. Then she takes a washcloth, wets it, and twists the fabric into a rope, which she places between my teeth.

  We hear the sound of people marching around the balcony outside my room. The footsteps pause every few seconds. They’re patrolling the building and making sure all the dorm rooms are locked. Joi is preparing to operate when the lights shut off. We can see a faint, red glow outside the bathroom.

  Joi leaves and returns with my battery-powered alarm clock. I feel her lips at my ear. “Are you ready?” she whispers.

  There is no anesthetic. No tequila this time. I feel the scalpel slice into my scalp. A drop of blood slips off a strand of my hair and splatters on my bare shoulder. More follow until there’s a steady stream. Joi’s nimble fingers are working fast. Scalp wounds can bleed heavily, but they’re rarely dangerous, she assured me. My chip will be easier to remove than the others.

  “Put out your hand,” she whispers. The chip drops from her tweezers into my palm.

  It doesn’t look like metal and plastic. It’s covered in blood and bits of tissue. If I didn’t know what it was, I’d assume it had once been alive.

  The needle punctures my scalp three times. Joi uses a towel from the bathroom and an entire bottle of spring water to rinse me off. I dress while Joi cleans her instruments and puts them back in her kit. According to the alarm clock, we stand by the door of my room for ten full minutes, listening for the sound of any movement outside. The dorms are quiet now, so I slip Mandel’s key into the slot and slide the door open just enough to slip outside.

  We’re almost to Ella’s room when I remember what I’ve forgotten. Without the clock, it’s pitch black in my room. I manage to locate the frame on the wall, but I can’t figure out how to open it. So I take it into the bathroom and crack it against the sink. The Plexiglas doesn’t break, but the wood splinters. I remove Jude’s picture, fold it up, and tuck it safely into my pocket.

  Joi is standing by the railing when I emerge. She’s staring down at the atrium, and I can see just enough of her face in the darkness to know something is wrong. The lights are still on downstairs, but there’s no sound of activity. We expected the academy to be on full alert. But it seems as if everyone has gone home. Joi looks up at me, and I know what she’s thinking. We’ve got to keep going. Our plan can’t be postponed.

  Ella keeps the washcloth clenched between her teeth, but she doesn’t even whimper during the procedure. Joi works more slowly this time. The chip is close to the ulnar artery. One wrong move and Ella might bleed to death. I know Joi’s nervous, but she doesn’t let Ella see it. She waits until the last stitch is in before she allows herself a sigh of relief.

  I’ll sigh as soon as we’re all out of the academy. I keep waiting for one of the Androids to turn against us and sound the alarm. Most are in bed when we arrive. Each time, I clamp a hand over their mouths, but no one has tried to scream yet. They almost seem glad that the end might be near. It doesn’t matter which that end might be. Ella holds out her arm while Joi shines the light on the site of Ella’s incision. The Androids instantly know what’s happened. Nothing else needs to be said. But it hasn’t all been smooth sailing. I thought the operation might go faster once Joi got the hang of removing the chips, but it takes us a full two hours to cover the eighth floor. She spent forty-five minutes working on one Android who’s been at the academy for almost three years. His tissue had grown around the chip. Another year and it would have been part of his body.

  There are two more dorm floors to cover. Getting down to the seventh is easy. Ella slinks back to her room and returns with a rope made of sheets. She used the design I’d come up with the night I tried to help Lucas. I loop the rope over the eighth-floor balcony and shimmy to the seventh floor. Joi and Ella follow, then we pull the rope down.

  By the time we’ve finished on seven, thirty-nine chips have been removed. But we still face our b
iggest challenge. The rest of the students are housed on the ninth floor. And there’s only one way up. So we hold our breath and board the elevator. The soft click of the gates sounds like a deafening bang. The hum of the motor is the roar of a jet engine. We step off on nine and listen. We hear nothing at all.

  With the Wolves gone, only a handful of students remain on the top floor. And one of those will be left behind. Even Joi agrees that Gwendolyn is far too dangerous to be released into the wild. We’re about to free our final prisoner, but we have to pass the old Dux’s room to reach him. We’re just outside Gwendolyn’s dorm when Joi and Ella both freeze in their tracks.

  “Help.” The word was so faint that I’m not sure I heard it. “Help.”

  The three of us stare at the door.

  “It’s a trick!” Ella whispers.

  “Help.”

  Joi kneels down and runs a finger through a small puddle that’s formed under Gwendolyn’s door. When she holds her fingertip up for inspection, Ella and I see it’s dripping with blood. Joi puts her other hand out. She wants the key.

  “Don’t!” Ella pleads, but I’ve already placed Mandel’s key in Joi’s palm.

  We find Gwendolyn lying on the other side of her door, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her pristine white outfit has been dyed scarlet. Joi kneels down beside her.

  “Light,” she orders, and I hold the alarm clock over Gwendolyn as Joi searches for the girl’s wound. It doesn’t take long to find it. There’s a jagged red gash in the center of Gwendolyn’s forearm. She’s removed her own chip.

  “Jesus. What did she use?” Ella asks.

  I see what looks like a red stick lying a few feet from Gwendolyn. “A ballpoint pen,” I say.

  Joi has finished her inspection. “I can’t stitch this up. She’s nicked the artery. She needs a tourniquet.”

  I rip a strip from one of Gwendolyn’s sheets, and Joi wraps it tightly around the girl’s arm, just below the elbow. By the time she’s finished, Gwendolyn is perfectly still.

  “Is she dead?” I ask.