“I’ll let him know.” Ukaiah stretches and gets up, but then stops in front of me. Slowly, she reaches down and takes my cup from my loose fingers. She pulls the corner of her mask aside, revealing a maze of fused plastic and glittering data chips across her cheek. She slips the straw under the mask. I wince as I listen to the stuttering slurp that vacuums up the last of my juice. She hands me back the empty cup. “I strongly suspect you have a soul, but that’s one thing that can’t be augmented. You have what you have. If you decide you want to join the cause, you need to get on board.”
I glance at a canny patroller who has just turned the corner. “I’ll think about it.”
Her dark gaze is unforgiving. “Your parents wouldn’t have thought twice.”
I flinch. “My parents spent a lot of time and effort trying to keep me safe.”
“Yeah, when you were a child. Is that what you are now? Or are you a man? Because what your father wanted Chen to give you? It’s meant for a man. Not a scared little boy.”
I am on my feet so quickly that I don’t remember having the thought. Ukaiah takes a step back, though I suspect she’s smirking behind her mask. “Your friends might be used to luxuries, but time isn’t one of them, not anymore.” She turns and walks away.
The fear in the air is electric, and I’m not sure whether it’s the attack or this new roundup of “technocrats of interest.” Part of me wants to go home, talk to Rosalie, fly away to Paris.
The rest of me clings to this: Your parents wouldn’t have thought twice.
She’s right.
I tap my comband. “Kyla,” I murmur. Her lovely face pops up as I wait for the com to connect. But instead, a message appears: This user has engaged privacy settings.
Hmm. “Anna,” I whisper to my screen. My heart accelerates to 144 beats per minute as I wait for her to pick up.
Chapter Ten
Marguerite
Alone in the apartment with my Secret Service detail outside, I start to drive myself crazy. I com Orianna, but the only thing she wants to talk about is that awful scandal vid Bianca made and posted to the Mainstream this morning. When I tell her who Bianca is, her face turns sour. “I ever see that bitch, I’m gonna pull her stupid head knob right outta her stupid skull.”
I laugh. “I think I said the same thing earlier.”
Orianna nods, her fingers rising to the nape of her neck, to where her neurostim device is implanted. She got her first one about six months ago, and it’s helped her mood a lot. “Great minds. We’re from Houston. We don’t mess around.”
If she were in the same room with me, I would hug her. We chat a little more about what’s going on here, but I think it’s so hard for her to really understand the vibe, what it’s really like in DC. Then she says she has “stuff to get done,” and I let her go. I try to com Kyla, but she’s still not online. I try Anna, too, but get a message that she’s unavailable, maybe on another com.
I watch a few vids on other channels, some of them so paranoid that it’s funny. Some people even accuse the president of using the terrorist attack to bend the technocrats to his will, not realizing that it’s made his job a hundred times more difficult. I think that might be what my next vid needs to be about, because it’s easy to forget that we need Gia Fortin and the other tech moguls on our side now that the people have spoken. We want them to keep doing their thing; we just want more people to benefit from the results. I hate when I see that fact twisted by people who don’t know the first thing about Uncle Wynn or the team he’s put together.
Renata announces my mom has arrived home, then the door in the hallway beeps. “Marguerite?” It’s not my mom’s voice. It’s El’s. I come out of my room to see him holding the door open for her. She heads into the kitchen without greeting me.
“Mom?” I start to follow her, but El puts his hands up and positions himself between me and her.
“Mar,” he says softly. “It wasn’t a good day.”
For me, either. I want to see her. I crane my neck around him. “Mom, are you okay?”
“Yeah, baby,” she says, all choked up. I watch her toss her head back. Taking a pill and downing some water.
I glare at El. “You’d better tell me what’s going on.”
He glances at my mom. “You okay, Colette?”
She doesn’t answer. Her palms are on the counter, fingers tapping the side of her empty water glass.
He clears his throat. “I’m going to fill Mar in. Take your time.” He nods toward the living room, and despite my desire to walk past him and go hug my mom, I do as he indicates. I’ve seen her like this before, and I can’t help her.
I walk straight to the chair by the window and sit. “What the heck is going on? They canceled classes and the Secret Service comes to get me, and then everyone was furious at me because they said the FBI was rounding people up . . .”
He rolls his eyes. “Gross overreaction. People are blowing this way out of proportion.”
“Then what’s going on with Mom?”
“She’s sensitive.” He casts a longing look toward the hallway. “I totally get it. I appreciate it. She’s like our canary.”
I stare at him. “What the heck does that mean?”
“Long before your time, I guess. Mine, too, actually. But anyway, all I meant was that she cares a lot, and if she’s upset, we need to pay attention.”
“El, you’re scaring the crap out of me.”
He closes his eyes. “One of our federal employees attempted suicide today, which of course is troubling—but she was also important to the investigation into the bombing.”
“Who was it?”
“Dr. Wendy Barton.”
“Oh my god! Kyla’s mom? What happened? Wasn’t she doing a press conference with you just a few hours ago?”
El puts his finger to his lips. “She’ll hear you.”
“Sorry. Jeez. Just tell me.”
“Her husband was killed in the attack, which I think you know, and she had pledged that she was going to help track down the culprits. She gave us a lot of information about who came to the department and why. She wanted to convince people to cooperate with the investigation—she’d been part of the technocrat community for ages.”
“But then she tried to kill herself?”
“Hung herself while in a car after overriding its safety settings,” El says. “She meant to have it deliver her body to the hospital.” He sinks into the couch across from me. “She was still alive when she got there—but she’s in a coma.”
I put my hand over my mouth. Kyla and her little brother have already lost her dad. What if I lost Mom, too? How would I react? “And?”
He shrugs. “The medical team is top-notch, but it looks bad. Her brain might be irreversibly damaged. Mar—” He looks toward the hallway again and lowers his voice even further. I have to lean forward to hear him. “This is top secret right now, okay? No one can know.”
“How on earth are you going to keep it from getting out?”
“We’re working on that, but if it does, it’s going to cause panic. You understand this is for the public good? The last thing we need is more anxiety. The city is already in bad shape because of the attack and all the rumors about the FBI’s investigation. We’re taking the very best care of Dr. Barton. We’re doing all we can. We just can’t imagine what was going through her mind that she would do this.”
We both go quiet as we glance toward the hallway. The door to Mom’s bedroom clicks shut. There have been times I thought Mom might hurt herself, and each time, I’ve had to shove down anger that she might be willing to leave me. Kyla must be in agony right now. “Her kids—”
“We’re taking care of them, obviously. Wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”
“And what are you guys going to do to calm everyone else down?”
“Well, the president is going to do an Oval Office address, for one. And we need you to follow it up. More than ever, we need our frontline surrogates giving this the right s
pin.”
“I need to talk to Mom.”
He sweeps his hand toward the hall. “Be my guest, but make sure you don’t upset her more.”
God, somehow Mom and I have switched roles, and it sucks because right now I need her so badly. “I don’t know if an Oval Office address and a couple of vids are going to fix this. Some of my classmates were practically running out of school, El. I heard one say they’re moving to South Korea.”
His mouth twists. I can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, thinking.
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Nothing. It’s just . . . I wish you had called me like I asked you to.” He sees the look on my face and makes a calm down gesture. “I’m not criticizing you. I just wish people weren’t so prone to panic. It undermines the president right when he needs support. He should be riding a wave of high favorability right now!” He leans his head back and heaves a weary breath. “Who was it, exactly, that said they were going to leave?”
“A bunch of people.”
His head pops up again. “‘A bunch of people’? Are you sure? Not a certain little twit who happened to release a fabricated scandal vid not twelve hours ago?”
I look out the window. I’m too embarrassed to admit it, but I watched it after I got off the com with Orianna. And then I went into the bathroom and puked. It wasn’t really me, but even knowing that, there was something about watching it that sent my body into full-on revolt.
“I have our Mainstream technical team looking for ways to make it disappear, Mar.”
“Didn’t we always say we were against suppression of speech?”
“For god’s sake, you’re a kid.”
“Seventeen isn’t really—”
“It is.” His voice is sharp. “And people can say whatever they want. This kind of thing? It’s evil.”
I can’t disagree. “Then lucky for me she’ll be on the other side of the Atlantic soon.”
El is quiet for a moment. “You’re handling this with a lot of poise. But I guess I should have expected that.”
“One of my classmates might have lost both her parents. I can’t really whine about some video.”
“Yeah.” He stands up. “Like I said, we’re trying to make that right. But we still need people like Gia Fortin to cooperate.” El puts his hand on my shoulder. “This is why I’m trusting you to keep everything we’ve talked about here secret, Mar. It’s a matter of national security.”
“Then why did you tell me in the first place?” I mutter.
He squats in front of me. “Your mom needs you. And I care about both of you. I know you can handle it.”
I look into his gray eyes. In them I can read how much he cares about Mom, how worried he is, and I sit up straighter, knowing he’s trusted me with something this big.
He watches me with a gentle smile. “I know full well how influential young people can be. That’s why I need you to talk to your friend Anna. See if she might go in and talk to the FBI herself. Set a good example. She was very politically active during the campaigns, you know. She led a student group that vandalized some public buildings and coordinated protests and attacks during our rallies. I’m sure she’d like her name cleared as a suspect in this attack.”
“Wait—Anna? There’s a huge difference between defacing a building and blowing it up.”
He nods. “It’s just a few questions, Mar. To rule her out so they can find the real person responsible. She might know something, though. And the smallest bit of info can help.”
Anxiety makes me squirm. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her.”
“You always know what to say. You open your mouth, and the right words come out. Just remember that all of this stuff that’s happening? It’s out of our control, but we’re still gonna try to govern the way all Americans need us to.”
“When is Uncle Wynn going to do the address?”
“Tonight. And he wants to meet with you after.”
I smile in spite of myself. “Really?”
He grins. “I’ll send a car for you at eight.” He stands up again. “And on that note, I’m going to let you take care of your mom.” He squeezes my shoulder and heads out, and a moment later I hear murmuring just before the door opens and closes.
“Mom?”
“Bedroom,” she says, her voice muffled.
I pad in and see her curled up under the covers. I sit on the edge of the bed. “El told me about Dr. Barton.”
“I talked to her right after her vid announcement. She’s an amazing woman,” Mom says quietly.
I stroke her hair, smoothing down the curls. “Sounds like you really connected with her.”
“I told her about Dan.”
Of course. They both lost their husbands. And they’re both trying to honor their memories. “Did you talk to Kyla? Was she there?”
“El said they’re taking good care of the kids. I didn’t talk to her. I asked him if I could, but he said it might be more upsetting.”
“For Kyla, or for you?”
Mom’s brow furrows. “Sometimes El is a little protective.”
I want to shake her a little. He’s protective because she seems so fragile. And I want her to be strong, for me, for herself, but I know why she’s not. But it also means I can’t fall apart . . . because who would take care of either of us then? Fatigue rolls over me. “I’m going to go watch some vids and relax. Are you going back to the White House for the speech?”
“El said I should take the night off.” She looks up at me. “I think he thought I’d worry the president, and El wanted to make sure he was confident.”
“Wait—does Uncle Wynn know what happened today?”
“El said he’s managing that.”
Doesn’t answer my question. But El has been managing Uncle Wynn for years, so I guess they’ve got a good thing going. “Okay. Well. You rest. I’ll get dinner for myself.”
As I rise, Mom’s fingers close over my wrist. “Hey. I overheard El talking to you earlier. Did something happen at school?”
I smile weakly. “Nah. Just fallout from the election and stuff.”
“Oh. As long as you’re okay.”
“Totally fine. As always.”
“You’re so strong, baby. I wish I was as strong as you are.”
I lean forward and kiss her forehead, unable to speak the truth aloud. Me too, Mom. Me too.
As soon as I get to my room, Anna’s face fills my desk screen.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”
Anna’s eyes look huge from this angle, full of questions. Or maybe fear. “You haven’t talked to Kyla, have you?”
“No. Why?”
“I still can’t reach her.”
God, my heart is beating so fast. “Same here. I tried to com her. No luck.”
A long pause, like she’s waiting for me to spill. But I’ve been media trained, and I’m not that easy to crack, especially when I’m looking into a screen. This is my home turf. So she breaks first. “Does . . . um. Do any of your contacts in the administration know?”
“How to reach Kyla?”
Anna’s eyes narrow, just slightly, but she might as well have screamed her suspicion.
“Anna, I make Mainstream vids. I’m not in the cabinet or anything.”
Her shoulders droop. “I’m just really worried. I haven’t talked to her since the attack, and now her mom did that weird press conference . . . Sorry, since her mom called for leading technocrats to turn themselves in for questioning. My mom’s on that list.”
“Is your mom mad at Kyla’s mom for supporting the president?”
“Mom thought Sallese took advantage of her. She’s in shock.”
“Of course she thought that. Why not always think the worst, after all?”
“She was worried, Marguerite. They’ve been friends for twenty years. Since graduate school. Mom is grieving, too, and not just for Kyla’s dad. She lost a lot of people she cared about.”
“I’m sorry.”
Anna dabs her cheeks with her sleeve. “I just found out that I’m on the list to be questioned, too,” she says with a husky laugh. “Did you know?”
Here, I can’t lie. “Yeah, I just found out. But it’s not what you think.” Her eyes flick to mine, so intense. “I mean, they want to clear you as a suspect. It won’t be hard—you were at school when it happened!”
“But this is more complicated than that, Marguerite, and you know it. They know very well I didn’t plant some bomb.”
“You think this is some kind of payback.”
She looks so weary. “Can you honestly tell me you disagree? You’re smart, Marguerite. Come on.”
“If you go in and talk to the investigators, they’ll clear you. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.” And it’ll show others that it isn’t a big deal, which is what the administration needs—to prove to Washington and the rest of the country that it’s being fair but thorough.
“Yeah, well, I might not have a choice,” she mutters. “Anyway—Kyla is who I’m really worried about right now.”
“I could ask around. I’m not sure they’d tell me much.” My throat is so tight. I want to tell Anna the truth, but the phrase “national security” is sitting on my shoulders like a patrol canny—much heavier than it looks. “But I’ll try.”
“Thanks. It’s just—things are crazy. People are scared.”
I scoff. “Seems like everyone and their brother has a house in Europe.”
Anna’s cheeks get a little pink, which tells me her family does, too. Knowing how rich they are, they might even have more than one.
“Hey—are you guys thinking about taking off?” I ask.
“Should we?”
“What? No! Seriously, this I know. The president wants to work with your mom. If the Department of AIR hadn’t been destroyed, they’d probably be meeting this week! I don’t understand why your mom doesn’t want to collaborate to get more Americans tech that they so badly need. I mean, it’s a bigger market for her, right?”