Thumped (5 page)

I’M MOCKED UP.

Yes, it’s true. The girl who hated trying on Babiez R U FunBumps has been successfully faking one of the most high-profile preggings in history.

There are only four of us in on the scam: Harmony, Jondoe, Zen, and me. Lib is in on half the truth: He knows Harmony bumped with Jondoe but is happy to uphold the image of the brand by letting everyone else think her deliveries are Ram’s. As for Ram, he says he’ll raise the babies with Harmony in Goodside because that’s what she’s asked him to do. As for what he really believes, I don’t know. And Harmony has made it clear that she doesn’t want me to ask.

The rest of the world thinks we’re fulfilling our obligations as our parents always expected. None of this would have been possible without Jondoe’s full cooperation, which he gave for one reason: Harmony.

“She’ll change her mind,” I had told him eight and a half months ago, when Harmony shocked us all by returning to Goodside with Ram. “She’ll come back. And when she does, The Hotties will have earned her enough money to start a whole new life. She’ll be free to be whoever she wants to be. . . .”

“I can give her the money she needs to be independent right now!”

“How can she earn her independence if you’re the one buying it for her?”

He had almost protested, but thought better of it.

“Won’t the Jaydens be pissed when they find out we scammed them? Won’t the whole world?”

“Do you care about Harmony or your career?”

He winced. “I wasn’t thinking about my career,” he said. “I was actually thinking about
you.
”

That was when I kind of got why Harmony had fallen for Jondoe. It was the first time I saw him not as a product, but as a real person capable of caring about people other than himself.

“Don’t worry about me. Zen and I are working on a plan,
a mission
, really,” I had said cryptically. “The world will get over it just fine. Including the Jaydens.”

That was so much easier to believe when the Jaydens were anonymous cradlegrabbers. They met me, like, thirty seconds ago and they’re already proudly showing off pictures of the nursery. They’re so off-the-spring excited just to be in close proximity of my belly that it’s obvious to me now that they are not going to “get over it” so easily.

“May I . . . ?” asks the Mrs. as she tentatively reaches out to me.

Or rather, to the Billion Dollar Belly.

According to Jondoe, it’s a top-secret prototype for a product called Artificial Living Tissue Engineered for Reproducing Reproduction. Eight and a half months ago I applied the transparent film to my midsection and for the past thirty-five weeks it has developed exactly as a real pregnancy would. It’s basically the next-generation synthetic skinfeel that’s used all the time in cosmetic surgery, only the ALTERR cells are encoded with microholographic imaging systems that simulate pregnancy. That’s a fancy way of saying it’s the most authentic FunBump ever. ALTERR isn’t approved for consumer use, so the B$B could swell to ten times its size, swallow me whole, and launch a parasitic attack on New Jersey.

Which doesn’t sound too bad right about now.

“I can feel them moving around!” the Mrs. says rhapsodically.

Of course she can. I’ve gotten away with avoiding internal exams (to “protect my reproductive privacy”) because ALTERR can fool an ultrasound. To my medical team, my twins are every bit as real as Harmony’s. I’ve scammed the whole world.

“Our daughters!”

I’m fooling the Jaydens right now.

I feel like I’m about to puke.

“Are you okay?” the Mr. asks. “You look a little green.”

“Have you had morning sickness this whole time?” the Mrs. asks. “Oh, that must be awful!”

Her sympathy makes me feel even sicker.

Zen steps between me and the Jaydens, unexpectedly grabs my hands, and starts pinching the webbing between my thumb and index fingers.

“Let’s stimulate those pulse points!” he says in a strained voice. “That’ll make the nausea go away!” With his back to the Jaydens, he sends me a loud and clear message with his eyes: Don’t do it.

Zen knows me better than anyone. And he knows how close I am to just giving it all up right now. But how can I just sit back and let these people make more plans for these babies
that are never going to come
? Has Zen lost his humanity along with his mind? I don’t get another moment to contemplate this question because Lib is zooming across the room and going psycho on the Jaydens.

“
What in the name of Darwin are you two doing here?
” he seethes through a gritted-teeth smile. “I explicitly told you not to come here under any circumstances.”

“But . . .” says the Mrs.

“
But nothing
,” he whisper-shouts. “This is dangerous. Do you understand? DANGEROUS.”

It’s true that Surrogettes and Parental Units are discouraged from meeting each other, but the legislation that would make such interactions illegal hasn’t passed yet. So I don’t know what’s gotten into Lib. I mean, it’s beyond over the top, even for him.

When the Mrs. withers under Lib’s glare, the Mr. steps up.

“Hey, she’s been through a lot. Take it easy on her . . .”

“ARE YOU SUGGESTING I DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE’S BEEN THROUGH?”

“Hey Lib, it’s cool,” Zen says, trying to keep the peace.

“It is ABSOLUTELY and UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES cool. And why do you get to have an opinion anyway?” He returns to the Jaydens. “Please leave now before you jeopardize everything I’ve worked for.”

The Mrs. is crying and the Mr. looks like he’s on the verge of joining her. I have no idea why Lib is overreacting like this.

“I’m sorry,” the Mr. is saying. “We’ll leave. Of course we’ll leave. We’d never do anything to ruin . . .”

“Then do exactly as I tell you,” Lib all but whispers, as if he’s got no voice left.

And before I can even apologize for Lib getting all ragey, he leads them to the door. But what makes this weird situation even weirder is how he puts his arms around them as he does it. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture, considering the circumstances.

I have just enough time to warn everyone in my radius.

“I’m gonna throw up.”

Then I lean over and heave into the nearest recycling bin.

ELDER BLATHER’S MENACING PROCLAMATION IS FAR MORE
life-changing than anything he’s ever said from the pulpit.

It’s not what I wanted to hear. But it’s exactly what I
needed
to hear.

I imagine Katie, Emily, and Laura have already eagerly agreed to stay up all night to sew me a tented red maternity dress that will be ready for me to wear in the morning. My own ma might even help them with the measurements. A true believer must accept her punishment, with child or not.

When I was about thirteen I once asked Ma about Shunning, and why the men on the Council were allowed to pass Judgment when the Bible says that only God has the power to do so. That was before I realized that I couldn’t turn to Ma when I was in spiritual crisis because she has unchanging faith in the Church. Ma told me to stop asking such questions because I would be deemed unmarriageable. She was right. Not long after I asked that question—and others like it—the Council voted against my first engagement to a stranger named Shep and arranged for him to marry my more compliant housesister.

The Church Council had to pass Shep’s homestead on the way to mine, lanterns lighting the way, alerting them and the entire settlement to my latest transgressions. How grateful Shep must be now that I’m Ram’s problem, not his. In the years after that failed engagement and before my marriage to Ram, I used to hide in the fields with my bird-watching binoculars and catch glimpses of happy families in their windows as they lived their prayerful and harmonious lives. I would search for signs of discord on their faces, in their actions, hoping to find an ally. But I never did.

And I never will.

I’m overcome by the urge to do something far more radical than cutting my hair, something I’ve resisted doing since the last days of spring and all through the long summer and fall. It’s winter now, the days are shorter than ever. I’m acutely aware, way down deep in my aching bones, that my time is running out. The Elders have confirmed that I have more to lose by doing nothing at all.

I pray for the strength I need to make the call.

It’s an old-model MiVu, so I have to type Melody’s code into the keypad. It’s like I’ve always known that it would be used for this very purpose, as if that were the only reason I ever had it at all.

I need to leave.

I need help.

I need my sister.

MY STOMACH IS STILL CHURNING, AND I’M DIZZY WITH REGRET.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Zen warns, offering me a glass of water.

“I can feel bad about this.” My hand is shaking, and water splashes over the lip.

“No, you can’t,” he says.

“You know what? I’m tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do. My parents were never as bad as you are right now.”

This really isn’t true. The first sixteen years of my life were spent following a very specific list of things I could and could not do, all of which were prescribed by a panel of experts outsourced by my parents in the attempt to make me into the top Surrogette they believe I am today. This is the foundation on which my parents’ new business—if not their whole existence—lies. Which is why the truth will rock them harder than anyone.

Well, except the Jaydens. Ohhh, the Jaydens . . .

“I’ll tell you why you don’t have to feel sorry for the Jaydens,” Zen whispers. “Because everyone else on the MiNet
will
feel sorry for the Jaydens. And they’ll line themselves up another top Surrogette so fast, they won’t even have time to get mad at you.”

I wish I still believed what Zen was saying. Now that I’ve met them—and they’ve met me—it’s just not that simple anymore. They’re real people who have fallen madly in love with these fake twins.

Throughout this whole scam, I’ve tried not to think about how the Jaydens would react when they found out the truth. It was easy not to care, really, when Lib had made them seem like such status-obsessed famegamers. This was a couple that was so fixated on perfection that they waited eighteen months—made
me
wait eighteen months!—while they waited for their application to be finally accepted by Jondoe. Only the hottest RePro on the MiNet was good enough for their “couture conception,” which is ironic because they were nowhere near good enough for him. Jondoe took them on as charitable pro-boner work just to give his image a boost and he ended up getting so much more than he bargained for.

Didn’t we all?

The thing is, the Jaydens I had imagined were very different from the people who set up a nursery in their brand-new home in a neighborhood selected for its excellent school system and acres of greenspace.

I
liked
these people. If I had to choose between my own parents and them, I’d totally have to give them the thumbs-up.

More horrifying than that?

I know they will make awesome parents.

Would
make awesome parents.

If . . .

And a second round of nausea has me dry-heaving headfirst into the recyclables.

“WHAT’S going ON with you tonight?” Lib asks as I try to breathe normally.

“I could ask the same of you, Lib,” I somehow manage to say. “You went off on the Jaydens for no good reason. Zen was right. They seemed really cool and . . .”

Lib exhales so sharply that I’m surprised his nose doesn’t blast off his face.

“Listen, doll,” he says in a soft voice that is far more effective than his screech. “Just because
you
don’t know the reason doesn’t mean there isn’t one. There is no one more invested in your contract with the Jaydens than I am. NO ONE.” He takes my hands in his and looks me deep in the eyes. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t you? Because I’ve put my trust in you in a PROFOUND way, Miss Melody Mayflower. And I hope you would do the same with me.”

He breaks away for a moment, blinking wildly. At first I think he’s scanning the MiNet, but then I realize that he’s trying to stop himself from crying. I haven’t seen him this emotional since the day he told me I was bumping with Jondoe.

The thing is, I don’t trust Lib to look out for my best interests. He’s proven to care about one thing only, and that’s the bottom line. Last spring, when he discovered that Jondoe and Harmony had run off with each other, his first instinct was to write me off as a bad investment and to woo my sister into taking my place. When Zen, Jondoe, and I had our first strategic discussions about The Hotties, we debated for a long time as to what we should do about Lib. Ultimately, we decided it would be safer to make him a
part
of the lie without letting him in on it. We told him that Jondoe had bumped
both
of us, but Harmony was in denial and insisted that Ram was the real father and that they would stay in Goodside and raise the babies as their own. We pointed out that this miraculous, once-in-many-lifetimes identical twin synchro-bump had serious branding potential, if only someone had the business smarts to pull it all together for us. We all assumed that by the time Lib found out I was faking it, his earnings from The Hotties would be so beyond what he would’ve made in the original deal with the Jaydens that he’d swoon in admiration of our capitalistic vision and express eternal gratitude for giving him such a generous percentage of the profits.

He sniffs, then continues.

“All I’m saying is, you can trust me. Your health and well being, and those precious deliveries, are my top priority. I would never do anything to put you—or them—in jeopardy.”

Gah. I never thought I’d feel even the littlest bit bad about scamming Lib. But all this talk of trust? And his sense of responsibility for not just me, but my
deliveries
? He’s never spoken like this before. He’s never cared about what happened to a delivery from the moment it took its first breath. Why is he starting now? He doesn’t sound anything like the Lib I’ve known since I was thirteen.

“Well, I’ll go make a statement.”

And then Lib takes off, preparing to spin our latest lie. Everything is back to normal, but nothing feels right.

Zen has just returned to the couch with a cold compress in his hand.

“I know you’re under a lot of stress right now,” Zen’s saying, gently resting the damp napkin on my forehead. “I promise nothing bad will happen to you.”

“
You can’t guarantee that!
”

“You have to look at the bigger picture. . . .”

I shush him, and not only because I’m still feeling pukey and for seriously not in the mood to listen to him go manifesto about how I’m destined to be a feminist icon for the ages or whatever, but also because I’ve got an incoming message.

“It’s Harmony!” I say, but quietly. Lib cleared the room at my request, but gossipmongers abound.

“Melllllooooodeeee,” Harmony wails, and then the rest of her sentence is swallowed by strange choking sounds.

“What’s wrong?”

And when she responds with even more horrifying animal howling than before, I know that this must have to do with Jondoe. Harmony has made it beyond clear that she wants no contact with Jondoe in facespace or on the MiNet or anywhere else.

“I told Jondoe not to contact you,” I say.

“THIS ISN’T ABOUT JONDOE.” The audio in my earbuds gets all fuzzy. “It’s the twins . . .” she moans. “The twins . . .”

“Did your water break?”

My skin prickles at the thought of it: This could all be over very soon.

“NOOOOO.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“They’re going to take the twins!”

“Who?”

“The Church!” she spits out. “You have to come get me!”

I don’t know what’s going on, but if Harmony wants me to spring her from Goodside I don’t need the details.

“I’m leaving right now!”

And then our connection goes dead.

When I try to spring into action, Zen throws an arm across my chest to keep me on the couch.

“What’s happening? Where are you going?”

“Harmony needs my help.”

Zen searches my face. “Are you hiding something from me? Did her water break? Because if it did, we need to set the Mission in motion. . . .”

“Enough about the Mission, already!” I yell, lifting his arm off me. “I’m so sick of hearing about the stupid mission.”

“It’s not stupid! Shifting paradigms is not stupid!”

And that’s when I do the most insulting thing possible: I laugh right in his face.

“Oh, that’s really mature, Melody.”

“I’m the one acting immature? I’m not the one throwing a tantrum right now—”

“You know what? I’m not under contract! I’m a free agent! I don’t have to put up with this!”

“Then
don’t
!”

And in the middle of this drama enters the last person on the planet I’d want to see us fighting like this.

“Am I interrupting something?” Ventura purrs.

I must look like I’m about to puke again because Lib rushes back into the room and right over to me with a wastepaper basket.

“What can I do to make it all better, gorgeous?” he asks me, holding back my hair. “Just say the word. I’m a DOER. I make things happen.”

Can he make Ventura Vida disappear? Doubtful.

“Hey ya’ll,” Ram drawls, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’s moseying into. “Was that a barn raiser or
what
?”

He must have been in the direct blast zone of a glitter bomb, because he is covered head to toe in pink sparkles. His arrival is just about the best thing that’s happened to me all night.

“Ram!” I jump up and hug him, a decision I immediately regret when I see the sweaty glitter slick left in the wake of our embrace.

“We have to go to Goodside immediately. Harmony needs us,” I say.

Regret crushes Ram’s face. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone tonight.” He takes off his hat and smacks himself in the head with it.

“DID HER WATER BREAK?” Lib asks.

“No!” I say. “She just needs my company.”

“Well, I’m coming with you!” Lib insists.

“You won’t make it past the gate,” Ram warns.

“That’s right,” I say. “They love their God and they love their guns. They will shoot you first and pray for forgiveness later.”

“It’s true,” Ram says, wiping his wet brow with the back of hand, cutting a clean streak through the glitter. “Now, come on, let’s go! We’re wasting time!”

I’ll tell you who
isn’t
wasting any time: Ventura Vida. She must have mega-dosed on Tocin or some other love drug in the bathroom because she’s given up on subtleties and is pressing herself against Zen in a predatory way, like she’s ravenously hungry and Zen is dinner. His eyes are closed, but hers are wide open . . . and glaring right at me.

I should be out the door already but my legs won’t move. I stare right back at her. Not because I want to but because I can’t look away. I need to watch Ventura steal Zen. I’ve lied to so many people about so many things, it only seems fitting that something—someone—so pure should be taken away from me.

I’m getting exactly what I deserve.

I can’t say how long we’re locked in this staredown. Long enough to think about me and Zen riding bikes to school together, me and Zen quizzing each other for the Science Olympiad, me and Zen laughing over secrets in our plastic tree house. Long enough to recall how his lips felt on mine, the first and only time we kissed. To remember the sizzle of electricity when our hands touched. . . .

Bleeeeeeeep! Bleeeeeeeep! Bleeeeeeeep!

He’s my best friend but I don’t even bother saying good-bye.

Zen’s already gone.