Truth (9 page)

XV

S
al and Wei followed me outside. Their faces reflected concern, but I wasn’t sure either of them really understood how insulted I’d felt.

“How can Chris stand to be with that . . . that . . . Gah!” I railed. “What a clueless . . . I’d expect something like that from Paulette, but not your brother’s girlfriend.”

Wei opened her mouth, but before the words came out, a voice behind me said, “Don’t judge what you don’t know.”

I spun around, face-to-face with Paulette.

My adrenaline was pumping, and I couldn’t have backed down if I’d wanted to. “I know you and your kind.”

“Trust me,” she said. “I wouldn’t be who I am if I were
that
kind.” A stretch trannie pulled up in front of us. The driver got out, came around, and opened the door for Paulette. She slid into the cavernous backseat. “See you.”

The three of us watched until the trannie turned the corner, out of sight. A cold blast of wind knocked any residual anger out of me. I yanked on my coat. “Guess I’ve ruined the evening for everyone. I’m heading home.”

“Me, too,” Wei said. “I’ll get my jacket.”

“No, you stay,” I insisted. “You and Derek should have some fun. Tell him I’m sorry.”

Sal grabbed my arm. “I’ll take you back to Wei’s house, Nina.”

“It’s her house, too.” Wei stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned to me. “You do know that Chris doesn’t feel the same as Martinique, right? She’s just some girl. He has lots. I don’t think he requires position statements before asking for a date.”

“Maybe he should,” I said.

“Well, I’ll suggest it.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’d better get back inside. I left Martinique in there with the girls. Brie’s only got Mag to keep an eye on her. She can get pretty wound up, since Dorrie’s a tier-three. I’ll see you at home.” She ducked back inside, and Sal and I started walking.

“You’re getting pretty good at making scenes.” Sal linked his arm into mine. “You know, I have some business coming up again tomorrow. But my brother took his wife out for a night on the town. How about we go to my house before I take you home?”

I’d never been to Sal’s place, and it seemed like light-years since we’d had any alone time. “Cool.” I chose to ignore my earlier irritation at his protective nature. We could talk that out another time.

***

Sal pulled up in front of a tall, skinny three-story house, squeezed between two taller apartment buildings. “This is it. I grew up here. Mom, Dad, and I moved into an apartment after John and Maeve got married. Dad deeded the house to John . . . just in case.”

“What do you mean about ‘just in case’? Did your dad know something would happen to him?”

“Come on inside.” Their entry was similar to the Jenkinses’, with a retinal scan rather than an auto-recognition pad. Sal closed the door behind us. “It’s a total dead zone here—like the Jenkinses’. Chris did it in exchange for the work on his trannie. So you know how my dad and my mother died, on assignment for the
Global Times
over in Scotland?”

“Uh-huh.” I squeezed his arm.

“The Governing Council was behind that trip, and Dad thought they were up to something. Mom insisted on going. She claimed it was because she’d never been to the Greater United Isles, but I think she had a premonition or something and wanted to be with my dad if anything happened.”

In the dim hall lighting, I saw Sal’s eyes glistening.

“They must have loved each other very much.”

His “yeah” came out strangled.

I knew how he felt. We’d both lost our parents to the GC. Well, granted, my dad was alive, but I still hadn’t met him, and he’d never been a part of my life. I had Gran and Pops, too, but that wasn’t the same as a parent. Sal and I had that loss in common. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. We stood there, wrapped in each other, until we had to breathe.

“Come on.” He took my hand, leading me through the house to the stairs. “I’ve got the room on the top floor. You want a Sparkle or some water before we trek up there?”

“No,” I said. “Just another kiss, please.”

He obliged.

I wasn’t sure we were even going to make it to the stairs. The next time we came up for air, he lifted me onto the first step. “All the way up. Don’t stop till the stairs run out.”

The staircase was narrow, so we had to go one at a time. Sal said, “I’m right here to catch you if you fall,” and he touched my behind.

I play-swatted his hand away. “I think I’ll make it.”

It was so odd, being in Sal’s house, alone with him. A few weeks ago I would have been freaked out by the very idea. But now . . . Media insists that sixteen-year-old girls are sex-obsessed sex-teens, I know it’s not true. Not for me, and honestly, I think most girls are bullied into believing it’s true by zines like
XVI Ways
or all the verts that show girls tempting guys in their skimpy clothes and over-the-top sexual attitudes. With Sal, I found out that having a boyfriend isn’t at all the way they said it should be. I could have fun, mess around, be a teen. Just because we kissed and held each other didn’t mean we were going to have sex. Although it was also true that I did think about it. Especially at times like–– Shut. Up. I told the thoughts racing around my brain.

“My room.” Sal threw open the door at the top of the stairs to reveal a sparsely furnished, but incredibly neat bedroom. There was a desk and chair on one wall. An older-model Family AV in the corner and a huge bed next to the window. A digi with, I guessed, his mother and father was on the desk, along with some random text chips. And a projection of a 260G Persides transport on the wall. It looked like Mike and Derek’s rooms—pretty guylike—to me.

“You could take your coat off.” He tossed his on the chair. Before I got mine unbuttoned, he was in front of me.

A smile spread across my face as he took over unbuttoning the remaining buttons, then threw my coat on top of his.

His hands slipped around my waist, touching the tiniest slice of skin. I quivered down to my toes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk when I was gone. We were . . . well, I can’t tell you, but I just couldn’t risk the signals getting intercepted. And the less you know––”

I put my arms over his shoulders. “I know.” My lips homed in on his, soft and warm. Our tongues gently prodding and pushing, and I felt the world disappear. We must have been floating up to the stars.

His hands worked their way up my body, under my sweater. With one hand he stroked my stomach while he cupped one of my breasts in the other. No one else had ever touched me like that, and it was thrilling. My whole body was thrumming with the sensations that pulsed through me. We backed over to the bed, and he lifted me onto the covers. The cool sheets sent shivers through me when my bare skin touched them. They were warmed in an instant because my body was on fire.

Sal pulled my sweater over my head, leaving me in just my bra. He lay down beside me, his hand on one breast, kissing across my chest to the other. My half-heart charm that he’d given to me fell into a spot between them.

This wasn’t what they taught in Sex Ed. And it wasn’t anything my mom and I had talked about. Definitely nothing like those awful sex vids that Ed had left at our house. It all felt so good and natural. I touched Sal’s face, and he rose. Struggling out of his shirt, he pressed his body against mine and kissed me, hungrily. My body took over my brain, knowing exactly what it wanted. His muscles rippled under my fingers as I ran my hands down his back. He ducked his head back down to my breasts, and a little moan escaped me. His hand went to my waist, unbuttoning the band of my jeans. Something inside my head clicked, and I pulled his hand away.

“No?”

“I can’t.” I bit my lip. He rolled over onto his side. I turned to him, slinging one leg over his. “Sal, I don’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, being touched by you. But I’m not ready for sex. Not yet.”

His breathing was fast and hard. He didn’t speak until it slowed. “I’m not a sexer. And I would never force myself on you, ever. I love you, Nina.”

“I love you, too.” I hid my face in the crook of his neck, the smell of soap and aftershave filling my senses.

“Hey!” Someone shouted up the stairs. “You home?”

“Skivs! John!” Sal jumped off the bed.

“My clothes!” I was groping around when Sal tossed them to me.

He yanked on his shirt. “Yeah, I’m up here,” he shouted back down.

Where I had been hot with passion, I was now burning with shame. What if John hadn’t called up? What if he and his wife had come upstairs and found us? How something that felt so right one minute could feel so wrong the next was beyond my comprehension. There was so much I didn’t know about love and sex and how it all fit together. My heart ached for my mom. If only we’d talked about things like this . . . I reached up to smooth my hair and just felt tangles. “You got a brush?” I asked, scrambling into my clothes.

“In the bathroom,” he said. “At the end of the hall. I’ll wait for you.” He skimmed his lips over mine. “Although I think you look beautiful right now.”

I blushed and headed down the hall. He thought I looked beautiful, all messed up with my clothes askew. He didn’t seem to feel any of the guilt or shame that I was feeling—and I wanted that same carefree attitude. But it was so hard. It was almost easier when I had myself convinced that the answer to the Media telling sixteens to be obsessed with sex was to turn around and reject boys, sex, and love entirely. I had thought that sex was evil, something that turned boys into monsters like Ed. But Sal had changed that, and there was no way he could know how much that meant to me. The fact that his feelings toward me were the same now as they were when we’d walked into his room. That he didn’t think less of me. I wanted to feel that way, too. I just didn’t know how.

XVI

“Y
ou awake?” Wei poked her head in the door.

“Uh-huh.” I’d fallen asleep on the sofa the night before.

Wei sat next to me, tucking her legs up under her. “What time did you get in?”

“I dunno. Maybe eleven-thirty. Sal and I went to his house.” Warmth crept up my neck.

“Really?” Wei gave a mischievous smile. “Was anyone home?”

“No.” The warmth spread to my cheeks.

“Lucky you.” She flopped back on the pillows. “Derek’s mom is always around. We never get to be alone for long.”

“John and his wife came home not long after we got there.” I half smiled.

“So are you thinking about having sex with Sal?” Even though the question was frank, Wei plucked at the tassels on the edge of the throw. “It must be tough, with what happened in your past with your mom and your friend Sandy.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I think about Sal and me, a lot. But there are so many other things in my brain when thoughts of sex come up. Not just about Ed’s stupid porn vids.” I shuddered at the memory of his disgusting collection. “But how he raped and killed Sandy. And had the same fate in store for me. I wish there was some kind of memory wipe so I could forget all that stuff and start over.”

Wei touched my arm. “It’s hard enough trying to figure out how you really feel about sex with all the crap Media throws at everyone about sex-teens . . . I can only imagine how much harder it is with all you’ve been through. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you’re even thinking about having sex.”

“Me, too. It’s just that . . . when Sal kisses me, touches me, my body sort of takes on a life of its own. I forget everything except how close I want to be to him. Do you know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced at me. “I know exactly what you mean. But I don’t want Derek to think of me as a sex-teen.”

“You?” I laughed out loud. “Of all the girls I know, you are the last one anybody would think was a sex-teen. Besides, you know Derek would never think of you that way. He’s not that kind of guy.”

“I know. When we’re together, it’s like we’re in our own little bubble, and none of the rest of the world even exists. I’m pretty sure that’s the way relationships are supposed to be. Rather than the way the Media says that it’s what you’re supposed to do and that every girl should want to be ready for any guy who’s, you know, up for it.” She laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Punny, Wei. Very punny.” A wry grin crossed my lips.

“Come upstairs for breakfast,” she said.

“I have to call the hospital first and see how Gran is, and if she can have visitors today.”

“Well, come up afterward. I think Chris is making sledding plans. It snowed a bunch last night.”

After Wei left, I went to the window. The snow was beautiful, covering everything in a blanket of white. I thought about the snow and about Chris’s friend Martinique. Both so beautiful—on the surface.

***

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted me as I walked into the Jenkinses’ kitchen. Wei’s dad was at the table, sipping a cup, reading the news.

“Good morning, Nina. Did you hear the Alert last night?” Mr. Jenkins asked.

“Yeah, but where did all that stuff about Ed and the fake space station come from? It wasn’t in the packet Mom had hidden.”

“No, it wasn’t. Lessig obviously has his own agenda about this story. I was reassigned shortly after turning in notes for the investigative team to follow up on.”

Wei’s dad was a Media special investigator. He worked directly under Kasimir Lessig, the man who many people thought controlled the Governing Council because of his position as head of Media. Lessig’s version of the truth was what filled the news—that’s what my mother had always said. No one questioned it—well, the Resistance did.

“He doesn’t have the actual chips, does he?” I started feeling nervous. The real chips held the truth, and if Lessig had them, well, then maybe the only version that we’d ever hear about would be his.

“Only copies. The originals and the corroborating evidence are in a secure location. If necessary, they’ll be used as a last resort.”

“But they have all the information already. They can dig deeper and find the whole truth.” My hand went to my charms necklace, fingering the
T
charm Pops had given me.

Mr. Jenkins sighed and looked straight at me. “Nina, there is the distinct possibility that Kasimir Lessig has been a recipient of more than one of these FeLS girls. They have been used to seal agreements, curry favor, and buy silence. I expect Lessig will spin his own version of the truth, whatever that is.”

A slow burning sensation filled me. It wasn’t fair. The truth was the truth; it needed to be heard. People needed to know that they were allowing the GC to take their daughters to be used and abused sexually. That this was not a way up and out of the lowest tiers. The image of Joan’s tormented face flashed through my mind. For girls like her, the dream of something better was a nightmare.

“There will be more to the story, right? They won’t let it die. They can’t, right, Dad?” Wei asked.

Mr. Jenkins nodded. “The hardest part was getting it to broadcast. We fought that battle, and now that it’s been on, they have to follow up. Remember, for Media, image is everything. But you should be prepared that it won’t necessarily be the outcome that we’d hoped it would be.” Mr. Jenkins shut down his news projection and excused himself.

My PAV beeped. It was a robotic message from the hospital.

“Nina Oberon. Yes or No.”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Edith Oberon is allowed one visit, fifteen minutes in duration. Two family members in the room at one time. No visitors between eleven a.m. and one p.m. To repeat this message, say ‘Repeat.’”

I clicked off. “I’ve got to get a hold of Dee. We can go see Gran before eleven, but only for fifteen minutes. I hope she’s up.”

“You want to eat first?” Wei asked.

“Nah. I’ll grab a bite downstairs,” I said.

“See you later for sledding?”

“Sure. I’ll message you.” I picked up my PAV and clicked in Dee’s number.

***

Gran looked so much better than the day before. She was sitting up, smiling. Dee threw her arms around Gran’s neck.

“Watch the wires.” Gran laughed. “Don’t know what’ll happen if I come unplugged.” Her eyes were sparkling.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I feel ten, no, make that twenty years younger,” she said. “I don’t know what that doctor did, but he’s a miracle worker.”

Everyone seemed to feel the same way about Dr. Silverman, everyone but me.

***

When we got back to the house, Wei’s dad came out of his office. “Nina, may I see you for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Dee went into our apartment, and I followed Mr. Jenkins inside. He took out his PAV receiver and clicked in a number. “Alan? Here she is.” He handed me the receiver and left the room.

“Nina?”

“Dad!”

“I finally read all of the book.” The sadness in his voice poured through the receiver. Dee’s baby book. My mom had written messages to my dad in secret in that book.

“Mom loved you so much.” It was pathetic, but the only thing I could think of to say.

“I know that.” He sighed. “I never stopped loving her. To find out . . . all the sacrifices she made. That Delisa, your sister, that she’s my daughter . . .” His voice cracked. I waited. “Does she know?”

“No. She thinks that Ed is her father. You know, Mom’s ‘boyfriend.’ The source of the FeLS info. Her murderer.”

“She can’t know,” he said. “Not yet. It’s too dangerous.”

My heart sank; telling Dee the truth was one thing I’d hoped for.

“Mr. Jenkins told me you’re working at the Art Institute.”

“For Mr. Long, he’s great.”

“Ah, Martin Long.” Dad laughed. “A true friend. Don’t be fooled by his mannerisms, Nina. He can be deadly when necessary.”

It was my turn to laugh. I couldn’t think of anyone less likely to be called “deadly” than Martin.

“Did you see the Alert last night?” he asked.

“Yeah. And, Dad, that’s not what those chips Ginnie hid said. It wasn’t just Ed; it’s bigger, it’s been going on the entire time FeLS has been in existence.”

“Yes, I know. It involves Governing Council members, B.O.S.S. agents, people from every level of the government. And Media, which may well be the driving force behind it. Lessig will spin this story however he wants, but you don’t need to worry about that. It will be taken care of. I didn’t call to talk about him, Nina. I got word that my mother is in the hospital—that she had an attack. Is she going to be all right?”

“Gran is much better, I just got back from the hospital with Dee, and she looks great.” At least I could give him good news. “Dr. Silverman says she has to go to rehab for a while, but then she can come home.”

“As for Silverman,” Dad said. “We’ve got a watch on him. Something there isn’t right.”

“That’s what Mr. Jenkins said.” I didn’t want to bring up Pops, but I had to. “Dad, Pops got arrested by B.O.S.S. He’d been talking on the scrambler to his friends, and it ran out. I have to appear at B.O.S.S tomorrow morning. But I don’t know if . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to think about what might happen if Pops had to go into reassimilation. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. We’re living with the Jenkinses now.”

“Yes, I know.” He sighed. “We’re doing what we can to get him out. I also heard what you did with regard to his medications.” He cleared his throat. “Nina, you can’t take chances like that. It isn’t safe.”

“Safe? Dad, how can you talk to me about safe? After what Ginnie—my
mother
—went through for you and the Resistance, and all you’ve been doing since forever. ‘Safe’ doesn’t exactly run in our family. Besides, being sixteen is daily danger, wouldn’t you say?” I didn’t wait for his answer. “I would have thought you’d be glad I’m not some spineless sex-teen who goes along with everything Media tells her to do.” Skivs! I could hardly believe what was coming out of my mouth. Three minutes into only the second conversation I’d ever had with the father I’d never met, and I was furious and frustrated with being told not to do anything.

There was a long silence. Almost too long for me to bear.

“Nina, I can’t change the past.” It sounded like he was choosing his words in the same way a bomb defuser picks which wire to snip. “I wish things had been different. Much different. But the decisions made were not just mine. Your mother also had a say in how things were.”

“Did she?” This was not going the way I wanted it to. Not at all. “It doesn’t seem like she had much choice after you disappeared. After you left us.” I clenched my fist. “And she sure as hell didn’t choose to be murdered.”

“You have every right to be angry––” His tone was placating, too calm. I’d had enough.

“Damn straight I do.” I clicked off. Damn straight. Tears of frustration threatened, but Mr. Jenkins walked back in.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” I forced a smile. “Just fine.”