Xvi (16 page)

“Seriously, Sal.” Mike shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Nina’ll tell you—that Ed skiv makes my dad look like a hero.”

A sharp gust of wind crashed into me and I heard Pops’s words again. Things aren’t always what they seem. I was afraid he was right.

Wei caught up with me in the hall after the last bell. “Nina! Where are you going?”

“I was looking for Sal.” I had a little bit of time before I had to meet Dee.

“He might have left after fourth period. I didn’t see him on the way to my last class. I usually do.”

“Oh.” Apparently my disappointment showed.

She studied me through her choppy black bangs. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s nice.” That sounded lame even to me. But at least I wasn’t being all sex-teen and gushing about him.

She smiled. “Yeah, he is. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

Outside in the late fall sun stood Mike and Derek, and Sal, too. My heart made a little leap when I saw him and I couldn’t hide the smile that played around my lips.

“Thought the teacher kept you after school,” Derek teased me. “You been bad?”

“Shut up.” I poked a finger into his ribs.

He jumped backward. “Hey now ... watch it.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “you might bruise his tender widdle body.”

Derek shoved Mike and Mike shoved back. Wei and I just rolled our eyes at that kind of mock fighting guys start doing when they’re little kids and never seem to stop. When Mr. Haldewick appeared on the top step, tapping his ever-present pointer and frowning at them, they quit.

Sal took my arm and steered me away from everyone’s chatter. “Let’s go to the park.”

“I need to make sure Dee gets home okay from school first.”

“I’ll go with you.” We said good-bye to the rest of the crowd, and he walked alongside me, close enough to make my insides smile no matter what we were talking about. “Tell me about this Ed guy.”

In the ten minutes it took us to get to the transit stop where Dee would meet me, I told him pretty much everything about Ed. Except the vids. I couldn’t talk about that with Sal.

We got to the transit stop, and I spotted Dee on the other side of the street, looking in a shop window. At the same time I saw Ed sitting in a green transport—one that looked just like the transport that had narrowly missed me the day before. He wasn’t alone, though. There was a woman in the passenger seat, but I didn’t recognize her.

“Sal—that’s Ed.” I grabbed Sal’s arm and pointed to the green trannie idling at the intersection, close to Dee. Panic rushed over me. “DeeDee!” I yelled, and threw my arms up in the air, waving. “Here! I’m over here!”

I dashed across the street. Luckily, no one was coming. The trannie screeched into gear and sped off. Sal followed.

“Neens!” Dee cried. “Are you crazy? You could’ve got hit!”

“I’m fine, Dee. I—I didn’t want you to miss us, because ... uh ...” I leaned over, panting. “Help me out here,” I whispered up to Sal, who was looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Because Nina and I are going for a walk and she can’t wait to be alone with me.” He winked at Dee.

“Are you her boyfriend?” Dee said.

“Maybe.” Sal grinned at her. “Does she need one?”

“All girls do,” Dee said. “Especially when they’re practically sixteen.”

I’m sure I turned as red as my jacket. I wished someone would invent blush control.

The number 33 transit pulled up. Dee boarded first. I was getting on when Sal whispered, “So, Nina.
Do
you need a boyfriend?”

The feel of his breath on my neck and the faint smell of some kind of aftershave, maybe Orion, made me all quivery inside. I couldn’t deny that it felt good. I didn’t need a boyfriend—I was not a sex-teen. But maybe I wanted one? It had to be possible to like someone and not go crazy over them. I hoped so, at least.

Sal took my hand, twining his fingers between mine. Much too soon, we were home and the three of us got off the trans.

“Dee, tell Gran I’ll be up in a bit to help with dinner.”

Sal and I watched Dee until she got in the elport.

“Walk?” he asked.

I nodded. The Chicago River was across the street, just south of the apartment building. That’s the direction Sal took.

“So are you sure that the green trannie was Ed?” Sal asked.

“No doubt. I’d never forget someone I despise as much as him.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, Dee’s fine right now and we’ll figure out something to make sure she stays that way.” He gave my hand a squeeze; I squeezed back.

The river was lined on both sides with small green oases divided by grimy stretches of concrete. The one we stopped in had a maple tree with a few faded yellow leaves hanging on against the chill wind. Chipped planters held what had once been flowers, but were now brown, withered pom-poms quivering atop brittle stalks. The river rolled by, the promise of winter riding its dark choppy waves.

Thanks to Ginnie, I’d always been somewhat aware of the audio surveillance police, but ever since the recent NonCon incidents downtown, and after seeing Gran’s scrambler, I’d been thinking more and more about the ASP listening in on everything. “Is it safe? Can we talk here?”

“Not a problem, this one’s DZ.”

A dead zone. “Really? How do you know that?” I said.

He shrugged. “I get around. You find out things when people aren’t paying attention to you.”

“Like when you dress homeless?” I’d never asked him about that day I’d met him.

He laughed. “Yeah. Like that.”

We sat down on a metal bench, the coldness of the seat shooting like ice straight through my jeans. I shivered.

“You cold?”

“Yes.” I was not going to admit where I was cold. “I need my gloves ...” I started to retrieve them from my pockets, but Sal grabbed my hands and clasped them in his.

“Let me warm them up. What kind of work did your father do?” Sal concentrated on rubbing my frozen fingers.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “He died the night I was born. Gran said he was on the debate team in high school and then in college. But after that ... no one ever told me what he did.”

“Do you know anything about his debates?”

“Just that they were pro-citizen, anti-Media. We never really talked about him. I guess it was too much for Ginnie.” My ignorance about my father’s life made me uncomfortable. Ginnie hadn’t talked much about him and Gran and Pops focused on his childhood when they told me about things he’d done.

“Do you have any of his writings or any of his notes?”

“No.” I cocked my head. “Why do you want to know?” Why did he care so much about my father in the first place?

“Just wondered.” He raised his eyes—his face close to mine. I didn’t want to talk about my father. I wanted Sal to kiss me. He didn’t. Instead, he said, “You know that Wei’s dad knew him? And mine did, too.”

I dropped my gaze, embarrassed that I’d been hoping for a kiss. “She told me.”

“Warmer?”

I nodded and he let go of my hands, putting his arm around me instead. “Do you ever wonder if your father’s really dead?”

I stiffened. That was not a random question. Extricating myself from his grasp, I stood up, pulled out my gloves, and put them on while Sal watched.

Finally, I trusted myself to speak. “Why are you asking me all these questions? You seem to know more about my father than I do.” I searched his eyes—they were as unreadable as the murky water below. “I want to know what’s going on, Sal.”

“I can’t exactly say.” He was hedging; I could tell. “I don’t know much.”

“Much? How do you know anything?” Then what Pops had said that morning hit me: things aren’t always what they seem. “Are you only interested in me because of my dad? Is that it?” I took a step backward.

“Of course not.” He reached for my hand, but I evaded him.

I felt so stupid. He was using me. I’d been craving a kiss, when all Sal wanted was information about my father. Why was Sal asking about whether or not he was dead? I hadn’t said anything about what Ginnie said that night she died. Why did he—or even Wei—want to know anything about my father? Sal’s parents were dead—it wasn’t like he talked to them the night before about this girl he knew who was Alan Oberon’s daughter. A couple strolling along the path stopped right behind us.

“Come here.” Sal took my arm, but I pulled away. “I don’t want other people to hear us,” he whispered. “Come on.”

I wanted to pull away, to run home, away from him. But I also needed answers. I followed him closer to the river.

“When my mom and dad died they were on assignment for the Media, following up on a lead about your father. Alan Oberon was the leader of the NonCons in the Americas. Rumor was that he hadn’t drowned that night. He supposedly found out his family—you, Nina—was in danger and faked his own death. He’d been seen in the Hebrides off the Greater United Isles. There are supposedly a lot of NonCons hiding out there. They put my dad on that assignment because he knew Alan.”

“What are you talking about?” My head was spinning. “NonCons? You’re saying my father is a criminal—no, the leader of the criminals!”

“NonCons aren’t criminals.” He looked at me with disbelief. “Don’t you read history?”

“I’m not stupid,” I huffed. “I know history.”

“You know Media’s version. The GC controls the Media, and shapes people’s perception of what goes on. They’ve been doing it for at least two centuries. Your father spoke out against their manipulation and the GC’s interference.”

“But ... but things are good,” I said, more out of anger than true belief. I thought back to my conversation with Gran. “Life used to be awful—wars, incurable diseases, hunger, homelessness. Now everything is the way it should be.”

Sal stared at me, his eyes opened wide. “You believe that?”

A voice in the back of my head, that sounded a whole lot like Ginnie, whispered,
You’re lying. You know better
. I ignored it. I didn’t care if it was true or not. I’d been stupid to let myself think Sal cared about me, that he was my boyfriend. My heart was breaking in two; he didn’t want me. He wanted my father; he wanted information.

I glared back at him. “What else should I believe? Look around.”

“I am looking around. And what I see is that the GC and Media tell you where to live, what to wear, what to want, when to grow up, how to act, and who to be. The government tags you with a GPS and then brands you like you’re nothing more than property. Doesn’t that make you mad, Nina?” He raised his eyebrows and stared at me. “GPSs don’t keep girls safe—a GPS is called, knowing where everyone is all the time. A tattoo doesn’t make you an adult. And no tattoo is going to save you in some dark alley; just the opposite, you’d be considered fair game. The only information anyone gets is from Media. Haven’t you ever wondered what goes on in places when Media cameras aren’t there? Do you think life really is as great as the Governing Council says it is?”

I couldn’t stand the way Sal was looking at me like I was an idiot.

“Maybe I don’t know everything you know.” My voice was shaking, and I could feel the tears crowding to get out. “But I know who I am.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about the tattoo as a brand, a visual vert proclaiming “legal sex here.” The vision of those ’letes in the park flashed through my brain. But my emotions had taken over and I wasn’t about to back down.

“Media tells you who you’re supposed to be, but is that who you really are? What about the you that exists outside of their parameters? I never would’ve thought Alan Oberon’s daughter would be satisfied with Media’s status quo.”

A hot spike of anger rose up inside me. I was tired of Sal telling me what to do, what to think. I took a step toward him and jabbed my finger in his chest. “You listen to me, Sal Davis. The GC may not be perfect, but things are a hell of a lot better than they were during the Religion Wars and Gang Rule and even when Fems were in power. And who are you to tell me what to think?” I planted my feet and jammed my fists onto my hips.

“Whatever you say.” He held up his hands and backed off.

I wasn’t done. “And don’t you dare talk to me about my father. If you knew all you claim to know about him, you wouldn’t be asking me all these questions about him. I have friends of my own, friends that don’t care whose daughter I am. I’m sorry your mom and dad got killed chasing some story about my father, but you know what? That wasn’t my fault.”

I’d turned to go when he said, “What about Dee?” I spun around. His jaw was set—his eyes flashing. I couldn’t believe I’d trusted him—I thought he’d liked me for me. I was wrong.

“What about her?” I shot back.

“Ed, her father. What do you know about him?”

“What do you care?” I knew plenty. He was a cheater, an abuser, an exgovernment agent who was now a Chooser, a skiv who’d rather watch sixteens have sex on vids than turn them into FeLS, and a jerk of a father who wanted to turn my little sister into a Cinderella girl. But I wasn’t about to tell Sal any of that. “I know that he made Ginnie’s life miserable,” was all I said.

“How’d she meet him?”

“At her work.”

“How long did she—”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I snapped. “You can quit with the questions. My life is not your business. It wasn’t your business two weeks ago, it isn’t your business now. If you want to know about Alan Oberon, you can put on your homeless disguise and go find out on your own.”

I strode up the incline and down the street. This time when I walked away, I didn’t look back.

At about ten p.m. my PAV beeped. I didn’t bother to look at the receiver to see who it was before clicking it on.

“Shame about your mother.”

Ed. My heart nearly stopped.

“Not even a hello?”

“What do you want?” I said.