Truth (5 page)

VIII

I
t was freezing outside, and dark. The glare of the canopy of overhead lights temporarily blinded me.

“Hey, I���m over here.” Chris was half out of his multi, waving to us. “Ladies, your chariot awaits.”

“You sit in front.” Wei crawled into the back and stretched out. “I’m pooped.” She let out a big yawn, and then silence.

I sank into the seat, too wired to relax.

Chris slipped into the driver’s side. “So how’s your grandmother?”

“Better, I think. She was still under the anesthesia when I left, but they said her heart rate was good and she wasn’t gray anymore.”

“That’s great. I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s an Oberon. I’ve heard they’re pretty tough cookies.”

That did it. I burst into tears.

“Whoa! I didn’t mean to start a river. Although it’s completely understandable.” He pulled a napkin out of the console and handed it to me. “Here.”

Wei leaned over the seat, groggy. “You okay?”

“Fine.” I sniffed, wiping my cheeks. “A momentary lapse of control.”

Chris reached over and squeezed my arm. “Your family’s been through so much. But you guys always bounce back.” He put the trannie in gear and eased out into traffic. “Dad and Wei told me about the writ, and then your grandfather . . . Now this.” He shook his head. “Lots of stuff going on in your life. You know, I’m sure it’s because you’re Alan’s daughter. I wonder if B.O.S.S. suspects he’s alive.”

“Ed thought so, but—” Catching myself just in time, I pointed skyward. Surveillance.

“Oh, not to worry. Trannie’s been modified by John and Sal. You can say whatever you want. No one can hear us.”

Sal. What I wanted was not to be reminded of Sal. Sal who wasn’t there when I needed him most, who was off somewhere with Paulette. Like my dad had not been there for my mom.

This whole night had brought back so many memories. How Ginnie’d had to face life alone after my father went underground. Sure, it had been for our safety as much as his—but, still . . . Ed, her boyfriend and Dee’s presumed father, murdered her all because she wouldn’t tell the truth about Alan’s being alive. I knew some of how Ginnie had felt, from reading one of her hidden notes in Dee’s baby book. She’d loved my dad, all the way to end. But what about him? How had he felt all those years? There were so many unanswered questions.

For those last few weeks, I’d managed to keep myself pretty upbeat about an eventual meeting with my father. But there were times I was angry, really angry at him for choosing the Resistance over my mom and me. To stave off any more thoughts, I dove into the conversation with Chris. “Ed wasn’t sure my father was alive until right before my mother died. The nurse who was taking care of the Infinity machine that kept my mom alive those last few minutes was working with Ed. She overheard Mom tell me to find my father.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chris said. “She was dealt with.”

I sat up with a jerk. “Dealt with?” What did that mean? “You don’t mean . . . killed . . . ?” Was the Resistance no better than the GC, removing people who disagreed with them?

“Of course not.” Chris glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “We have a holding camp in the Himalayas. People there are as free as we can let them be. Most of them were coerced into working for B.O.S.S. anyway, but we have to keep them, uh . . . out of circulation, just in case. They’ll all be released after the Governing Council is brought down. Anyway, back to Ed. We found out that he’d been in regular contact with someone we only know as ‘A,’” Chris said. “But as near as we can tell, he didn’t have any solid proof about your dad to pass along. So maybe I’m wrong. It’s entirely possible that all of this is coincidence.”

“Even the writ?” I wasn’t convinced.

“Well, your grandfather wasn’t . . .” Chris seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Which was a good thing. I was at the end of my last nerve and knew I wouldn’t deal well with someone accusing Pops. “Let’s say, he had a lapse in judgment.”

He was right. Completely right. “That happened after the writ was filed. You’re definitely not wrong about the Oberons. We do have a habit of speaking our minds at precisely the wrong time.”

“Well, the right times, too. You should hear your father’s speeches. He’s an amazing orator.”

The best I could muster was a lame smile. Pride swelled my heart, yet at the same time, pain pricked it. I’d only “heard” my father once, ever. That had been weeks ago on my birthday when he called me. I wanted to hear more—lots more. Like how everything got so messed up in my life. Surely, once he knew about Gran and Pops, he’d do something. He’d have to.

***

Chris parked his trannie in front of my building, “I’ll walk you up.”

“You don’t need to,” I said.

“Where are we?” Wei mumbled from the backseat, where she had been sleeping.

“Go back to sleep,” Chris said. “And you, Nina—humor me.” He bounded out of the multi, raced around, and opened my door before I could say okay. Bowing low, his eyes twinkling, he stretched out his hand. “Madam.”

When I placed my hand in his, I felt some of his strength flow into me. A smile tugged the corners of my lips, and I gladly went along with his silliness. It was the perfect touch of humor to lighten my mood. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure.”

Placing my hand on the recognition pad, I said, “Nina Oberon and guest.” Chris put his face next to mine for the ID.

“Proceed to your apartment at once,” an automated voice intoned. “Important notification posted at eleven-thirty p.m.”

“What’s that about?” Chris cocked his head.

“I have no idea. We’d better go up there before I pick up Dee from Harriet’s.”

I paced around the elport while Chris tried to calm me down. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably a change in procedure of some sort.”

The message screen by the apartment door was flashing. I pressed it and a paper slid out. Bolded across the top, it said:
NOTICE OF EVICTION.

“What?” I slumped against the wall for support. “How could this happen?”

Chris cupped my elbow. “Let’s get inside.”

My hands were shaking as I pressed in the code. “Why would they evict us? We haven’t done anything wrong. The rent goes straight from Pops’s pension to the building fund.”

Once we were inside, Chris let out a low whistle. “Wei said B.O.S.S. paid you a visit. This is their version of home decorating?”

“Yeah.” I saw Pops’s ginger tin on the floor, open, dented, and bits of candied ginger were scattered everywhere. I knelt down and started picking up the pieces. It was the only thing I could think to do.

Chris squatted beside me. “We should look at this notice,” he said gently.

He helped me up and sat next to me on the sofa. Our legs were touching. Oddly, that was comforting.

“‘Dear Mrs. Oberon,’” he read. “‘Due to the subversive activity of Mr. Oberon—’”

“My dad? They don’t know he’s––” Chris clapped his hand over my mouth, shaking his head.

Surveillance. Pops’s arrest was undeniable proof B.O.S.S. had us under surveillance.

“Dead. He’s dead.”

“Okay.” Chris scanned the paper. “It says here that because of your grandfather’s recent arrest, the building management is giving you, your grandmother, and Dee twenty-four hours to vacate the premises.”

I stared at the marks on the paper, unable to focus on the fact that they made words. “Twenty-four hours? Where will we go?” A shiver ran down my spine. I pictured Dee and me, homeless, like Joan, eating out of garbage cans, wearing rags, always cold. And Gran. Where would she go when she got out of the hospital? I was so deep in my misery that I hardly noticed Chris making a call on his PAV.

He clicked off. “It’s settled. Mom said all of you are going to live at our house. At least until this business with your grandfather is straightened out and your grandmother is healthy again. So where’s your room? Let’s get you enough things to see you through tonight. You want to get Dee’s things, too? Then we’ll stop by your neighbors’ and get her.”

I pulled myself together. It was no time for me to fall apart, even if I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. So much had happened in less than twenty-four hours. Pops, Gran, and now this. But—I wasn’t helpless. I wasn’t alone. I had friends, friends who were helping me.

And now I had a focus. “How about you go get Dee while I pack some things. Harriet Pace is in D14. I’ll call and tell her you’re coming.” Chris took off and I called Harriet, telling her that we had been evicted, and explaining the plan, and trying not to get sucked into the rabbit hole of grief that threatened to envelop me. “Yes, Dee knows Chris. He’s a good friend. We’ll be fine. I’ll be sure to call you tomorrow from the hospital and let you know how Gran is doing.”

I started gathering a few things from the mess in the living room—a digi of Ginnie and my dad, and Pops’s ginger tin.

The door opened, and Chris and Dee came in. “I told Dee what was going on,” Chris said. “Hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” I hugged Dee. “Deeds. You okay?”

“I’m tired.” She pressed against me. “Gran’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”

“Uh-huh.” As if I knew.

“And Pops. You’ll get Pops out on Monday, won’t you?” She gazed up at me.

I threw Chris a look of complete despair. Pops’s hearing. “I’ll do my best.”

“You know,” he said, “there isn’t a lot we can do right now, except sleep. Let’s get your stuff, and we can talk tomorrow about what to do. Want me to help you get some things together, Dee?”

After Ginnie’s death, we’d had six days to vacate the modular we’d been living in. Because Dee and I didn’t have much, it had been relatively easy. Gran and Pops had come and helped us move. This time wouldn’t be much different. While Chris and Dee were in Dee’s room, I stuffed a bag with the finds from the living room, my art supplies, and most of my clothes. We met back in the living room.

“What are we going to do about this?” I waved my arms at the mess of things. “We can’t get all of it now. And the big things . . .”

“Nina, let me see the eviction notice again.” Chris took the notice from me and scanned it quickly. “Damn. Everything has to be out by six p.m. Tomorrow.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay. I’ll come back early with a couple of friends. We’ll pack everything up and get stuff moved. Mom’s putting you guys in the downstairs apartment, the one my sister Angie and her husband didn’t want. It’s furnished, but we can move whatever you don’t need into storage to make room for your stuff.”

“That won’t be much,” I said. “All the furniture belongs to the building. Except for Pops’s chair and my bed, we hardly have anything.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll move it all, and then when your grandmother is feeling up to it, she can make the decisions of what to keep.” He took Dee’s bag. “You ready?”

She nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

IX

T
o me, Wei’s house was the most beautiful place I’d ever been. It was an ancient three-story brownstone walk-up. Even as exhausted as she was, Dee’s eyes widened in amazement as we walked up to the front of the house. Lights glowing on the stone-pillared front porch welcomed us. “This is ultra,” she whispered to me.

Chris activated the retinal scan hidden behind the brass numbers. “I’ll program you guys in tomorrow.”

Mrs. Jenkins must’ve heard us coming, because she was descending the marble stairs as we stepped into the foyer. Showering Dee and me with motherly hugs and murmurs of reassurance, she said, “Consider this your home, girls. I’ve put a few things in the chiller in your place, in case you get hungry. We’ll figure out everything else tomorrow.”

There were two apartments on the first floor. One was Mr. Jenkins’s office. The other was now ours.

“I hope this will be comfortable.” Mrs. Jenkins opened the door to our new home. Even as tired as we were, it would’ve been impossible not to be impressed.

The living room was furnished with an overstuffed sofa and two chairs that were so big I was sure I’d sink down and get lost in one. A FAV hung on the wall across from the sofa. Flanking it were two bookshelves, filled with books—real books, not just chips like we used at school. I was awestruck at being surrounded by so many precious historic things. We’d had a few real books back when my mom was still alive, but they’d all been confiscated by B.O.S.S. after she died

“It’s more than comfortable,” I said. “I don’t know how we can ever repay––”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Jenkins waved off my mention of indebted-ness. “It is an honor to be able to help the family of my dear friends.” I remembered her telling me how close she and my mom had been. “Let me show you the bedrooms. You must be exhausted.”

“Nina, you shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Wei said. “I’ll go grab my PJs and be right back.”

When Wei returned, Mrs. Jenkins left, reminding us that there would be breakfast in the morning upstairs.

“We should get to sleep,” I said. “I’m totaled.”

“Me, too.” Wei stifled a yawn.

“I guess so.” Dee looked ready to drop, but hesitated at the door to her room. She obviously did not want to be alone.

“You know, the bed in my room is huge,” I said. “There’s plenty of room for three.”

As it was, we could’ve fit in a fourth, it was so huge. Even with all that space, Dee fell asleep curled up in my arms.

***

A warm beam of sunlight across my face woke me. I bolted upright. “Where am I?”

“Huh?” was the muffled reply.

“Wei?”

She threw back the comforter, stretching her arms over her head. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah. It took me a minute to remember what all’s happened.” I patted the pile of covers next to me. “Where’s Dee?”

“She woke up just after I did. I sent her upstairs for breakfast.”

Just the mention of food made my stomach come to life, growling like an angry dog. But I had other things to take care of before my hunger. “Where’s my bag? I have to call Metro and check in on Gran. Will my PAV work in your house?” With all the antisurveillance technology that Wei’s house was wrapped up in, I didn’t know what would and wouldn’t work.

Wei produced my bag from beside the bed. “PAVs work fine here. If you want to know how, though, you’ll have to ask Chris. All that techie stuff is space jargon to me.” She rolled out of bed. “Come up when you’re done.”

***

I lightly tapped on the door. Wei’s mother welcomed me, putting an arm around my shoulders, like Mom used to do. It made me sad, but it felt good, too. How I wished . . . no sense in that. There was too much for me to figure out. I didn’t have time for what Gran called pie-in-the-sky thoughts.

“This is so kind of you.” I felt myself tearing up. “I don’t know—”

“It is the least we can do,” she said. “We are fortunate to be in a position to help friends. Your father, although distressed about his parents, was glad to know that you and Dee are safe with us.”

They talked to him—my father. I had spoken to him only that one time, weeks ago. But they’d already gotten word to him. How many emotions and questions just hearing “father” brought up. I settled them all back to sleep.

“Dee doesn’t know about him—I mean, about him being alive, that is,” I said.

“I thought not. She also doesn’t know that he’s her father, does she?”

I shook my head. “Just you and me, well, and my father—we’re the only ones who know.”

“And that is how it will stay until he decides to tell her. We will not talk openly of Alan around Dee. I’ll be sure that Chris and Wei are aware.”

“It’s so hard to keep secrets. Like the FeLS information. Because of it, Ginnie’s dead.”

“Yes, that and so many other reasons.” Mrs. Jenkins hugged me tight. “Someday the truth about everything will come out.”

“Do you know when or how my father is going to let the world know what FeLS really is?” It was naive of me to think that one chink in the Governing Council’s armor would bring them down. But at least exposing the FeLS sex-slavery side would stop low-tier girls, like Mike’s sister, Joan, and me, from being exploited in that way.

“I have heard that there will be an announcement soon. Let’s not focus on that today. When you go to see your grandmother, you want to be happy, positive. Take a few hours to enjoy life and not be worried about it.” She cupped my chin in her hand. “I hope staying here will bring you some happiness, Nina. You so deserve it.”

I craved happiness. As to whether I thought I deserved it, I wasn’t so sure.

We walked into the kitchen. Chris was at the cook center, using it on manual, like Gran liked to do. Wei and Dee were already tucking into plates full of food.

Dee put her fork down. “How’s Gran? Can we go see her now?”

“The doctor is going to call me when he gets in. The nurse said Gran was ‘as well as could be expected,’ but we can’t see her again until the doctor approves visitors.”

“Sit here.” Wei pointed to a chair next to her. “I’ll go with you if you want.”

“You can go if it’s after you’ve practiced your piano lessons.” Mrs. Jenkins gave Wei a stern look.

Wei rolled her eyes. “Okay.”

“Here you go.” Chris came over with a plate of French toast, dusted with powdered sugar. A pat of spread in the middle was melting into a steaming pool. “Strawberries. Blueberries.” He scooted a tray with two pots of toppings in front of me.

I spooned strawberries on one side of my toast and blueberries on the other. As I was eating, I realized Mr. Jenkins wasn’t there. “Where’s your dad?”

“He’s taking care of a storage unit for your things,” Wei said.

“After breakfast, if you haven’t heard from the doctor yet,” Mrs. Jenkins said, “you can go back to your apartment with Chris to deal with the rest of your things.”

All at once, it hit me. “Oh, no! I almost forgot. I have to go to the Art Institute. I’m supposed to work today.”

“Dee can get me into the apartment.” Chris said. “My friends and I will do the packing, and she can make sure we don’t miss anything. We might still be there when you’re through with work.”

The thought of my job, which entailed sitting in the middle of a cavernous storeroom filled with art, was inviting. It would be a little bit of sorely needed peace for me. But there was so much to do, and Gran . . . “Why don’t you go on and see what happens?” Wei said. “It’s better to do something than to just sit around here worrying. If the doctor calls, you can get in touch with Chris and he’ll bring Dee to the hospital. Don’t stress.”

***

But stress I did. I spent the entire ride to the Art Institute trying to clear my head about thoughts of FeLS. Thoughts like what my dad would do with the information I’d given him about a supposed diplomatic corps really being all about sex trafficking of low-tier sixteens. Thoughts of how Ed used to be the Chooser—the man who would go to schools and choose which low-tier sixteens would be enrolled into FeLS. Shipped off was more like it. Thank goodness we were able to buy out my contract so that I never had to go through that. But so many other girls did. Thoughts of Joan, who’d been broken by the FeLS induction “training.” When I first saw her with a group of homeless women who hung out near the Chicago River, I’d wanted to help her. A thought flashed through my head, again: maybe the Sisterhood could do something.

The Sisterhood. Wei had said we’d meet later today. That was good—there was hope. I had something positive to hold on to.