Awaken (17 page)

BaleyF: Can I ask you something?

MustangV-8: Anything.

BaleyF: Why are you so anticomputers?

MustangV-8: It’s not that I’m anticomputers. They have their advantages. But technology can be like a drug if you don’t keep it in check. After a while it gets in your system and you’re addicted. You get to a point where you can’t live without it and that’s when the drug controls you. We’ve become so dependent on computers we can’t cut ourselves off.

BaleyF: What makes us so different from computers?

MustangV-8: Lots of things, thank God.

BaleyF: Like?

MustangV-8: Ourb rains.

BaleyF: Computers have brains, sort of.

MustangV-8: But they don’t have a conscience. We can feel guilt, regret, remorse, sympathy, because we can think about our actions.

BaleyF: Computers think. They figure things out every day.

MustangV-8: But do they feel anything? Do they get embarrassed, frustrated, excited?

BaleyF: I guess not.

MustangV-8: It’s our consciousness that sets us apart. That makes us human. That makes us artists and creators and destroyers. Lately, more destroyers than anything.

BaleyF: Do you think your parents are creators?

MustangV-8: Some of the last of them, yes.

BaleyF: Then you must think my father’s a destroyer.

MustangV-8: I think your father has more depth than that. He also has a job to fulfill. But maybe we can work together to change his mind?

BaleyF: Maybe we’re stuck with this life.

MustangV-8: Why would you say that?

BaleyF: This is reality. It’s permanent. Why fight it?

MustangV-8: Because that’s the point, nothing is ever permanent. We’re just being brainwashed to think there isn’t more out there. Here’s the truth: your situation is never permanent. It’s what you make it. Life isn’t solid, it’s fluid. It changes. You say we’re stuck but that’s a hopeless way to look at it. It’s like saying we should give up.

BaleyF: Most people prefer to be guided. It saves a lot of energy to follow a path than carve out your own.

MustangV-8: That’s what we need to fight. Life should be a risk. It’s more than a straight line that you can see clearly from one point to the other. It dips and curves and you never know what’s around the bend sometimes until you get there. That scares a lot of people. But that’s the beauty of it.

BaleyF: I know, but everything is disoriented right now.

It’s like I’m seeing everything with new eyes, there’s too much to take in all at once. You need to give me some time to adjust.

MustangV-8: Yeah. But sometimes the more disoriented you are, the more clearly you start to see.

A few weeks passed and boredom fell over me like a suffocating blanket. I couldn’t lift it. I spent every day in my bedroom. Stifled. Enclosed. I looked up some of my online contacts that I’d neglected. But now our friendships seemed condensed and unrealistic, like a postcard picture of a place I’d never been to. I lost hours of time searching people’s profiles, looking for more Justins and Clares. I heard once that you meet the same people over and over in life. But now, I didn’t believe it. I’d lived seventeen years and had never met people like them. Some people try to tell you the things you want in life are out of your grasp, while others lift you up on their shoulders and help you reach them. I may not know a lot, but I prefer to fill my life with people who let me climb on top of their shoulders, not people who try to keep me planted on the ground.

I hung out at my usual social sites and went to movies with friends but I couldn’t shake the idea that I wasn’t
going
to a movie
with
anyone. I was just this girl, sitting behind a screen being tricked into thinking I was experiencing something. I face-chatted a few of my contacts but I wanted to reach through the screen and hold their hands and feel their presence. I wanted more than this hollow life.

My friends had become billboard advertisements of themselves. Is that all people were anymore? An advertisement of a person that catches our attention because we like the layout, the copy, the font? Had people become that easy to define? I used to think so. But now I realized all of my digital friendships hovered on the surface. There was never any depth. We didn’t discuss ourselves because we didn’t take the time to know ourselves. We were too busy being shown who we should be, what we should wear, what groups we should join. Who we should mimic. We didn’t have time to form our own thoughts or opinions so we quoted others.

Before I met Justin I was starting to accept my life and where it was headed. Now I didn’t know who I was; I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. It felt like someone tipped me upside down, shook out my thoughts, my past, my goals, and turned me right side up again, only to start over.

My cell phone rang and I inhaled a breath of relief when I saw the name on the screen.

“Hey,” Clare said.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and tapped my foot impatiently.

“Researching a paper I have to write about geothermal energy,” she said. “Thrilling.”

I nodded and stared at my flipscreen. “Sounds like it.”

“I need a study break,” she said.

I sat up straighter. “Want to do something?”

Clare laughed. Her laughter was light and contagious. It made me smile.

“Are you as stir-crazy as I am?” she asked.

“Want to find some music? We could go to that club, the one on the Westside?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Clare said. “Meet me at the train stop on Hamersley and Fifth.”

I turned my phone off and jumped to my feet as if the door of my locked cage suddenly sprang open. I looked down at my baggy jeans and sweatshirt and they were comfortable and known, but they didn’t reflect my mood. Life can change drastically at night. So should clothes. I opened my closet and rummaged inside until I found a short black skirt with the price tags still attached. I pulled out a tight blue tank top I’d never worn and discovered a lonely pair of heels stashed deep in the back of my closet. I had to wipe a layer of dust off of them; they were probably a gift Mom gave me in hopes that I’d one day try to look feminine. I quickly changed and examined myself in the full-length mirror. My eyes went directly to the scar on my calf and my stomach did flips at the memory of the night it happened, of Justin’s fingers touching my skin.

Before I wasted another minute fantasizing, I went into the bathroom. I figured, if I’m going all out, I might as well do something with my hair. I opened up a drawer below the sink and rummaged through its contents. I swore I owned some sort of hair-styling device. I finally settled on straightening gel and smoothed some of the sticky liquid through my hair. I combed it out and the gel gave it the exact effect I wanted. My long hair fell straight and severe over my shoulders and had a soft shine. I dabbed red lip-gloss on my lips and dusted dark eye shadow on my eyelids. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and shrugged. I was no candidate for Team Sparkle, but it would do. Now I just had to get around my father.

I walked downstairs and found my mom sitting in the living room watching TV. She gaped at me and looked me up and down.

“Maddie? Is that you in there?”

I grinned back at her.

“You’re wearing heels.” She bent down and examined them. “I must have bought you those a year ago.” She glanced up at me, worried. “Do you have a fever?”

I rolled my eyes. “Is it all right if I go out with Clare?”

“Who’s Clare?” she asked.

“She’s just a friend.”

My mom raised both eyebrows at this. “You dressed up like this for a girlfriend?”

“We’re going to a club.” I glanced down the hall. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s on a conference call right now.” She met my eyes. “You’re just going with Clare, right?” she asked. I nodded because it was the truth, but her eyes were skeptical. “Then I guess it’s all right, but only for a few hours.”

Twenty minutes later our train arrived at the Westside stop. The club was hot and loud and packed with people when we walked in. A band was setting up in the corner and people were already filling up the dance floor in front of the stage. Clare and I slid into an open booth we snagged just as a group got up to leave. She grabbed both my hands in hers and leaned toward me across the table.

“I just want you to know I’m really sorry about what happened at Scott’s apartment.”

I nodded and squeezed her hands back before she let go. “It’s all right. You didn’t know I’d be accosted.”

She rolled her eyes. “Scott can be such a drama queen. It never crossed his mind that mocking and ridiculing you to your face might not be the wisest strategy to convince you to join our side.”

I laughed lightly and shook my head.

“Maybe I should have told you all along,” she said.

“Justin should have told me the truth,” I reminded her. “But I think I understand why he didn’t.”

I looked out at the crowd, a mix of mostly young people our age. The band was starting to do sound checks.

“Anyway,” she said. “I want you to know that I don’t care if you
join our side
or whatever Scott calls it. I still want to be friends, no matter what happens.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What makes you think I’ve said no?”

Clare leaned away from me. “But I thought you made your decision at Scott’s?”

I smiled coyly. “I don’t like being put on the spot,” I said.

Clare’s eyes lit up. “You mean, you’re still considering helping us out?”

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know anymore. But if Justin could wait three years to ask me, he can wait a little while for me to decide. I just have to figure out a way to be useful to you guys without going behind my father’s back.”

Clare smiled at me. Suddenly, a young guy slid into the seat next to her. His thick, curly brown hair fell below his cheekbones. Blue eyes, the identical color and shape of Clare’s, looked over at me.

“This is my brother,” Clare said. “He makes it a point to interrupt all of my conversations.”

“Noah,” he said, and extended his long, wiry arm over the table.

“Hey,” I said, and reached out to shake his hand. “Madeline.”

Noah gave my hand a confident squeeze. His fingers were rough and callused as they pressed against mine.

“He’s playing in the band tonight,” Clare said.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” Noah said to me.

“She grew up less than a mile from us,” Clare told him. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“What? And we’ve never met?”

I shrugged. “I’m a victim of DS.”

“Oh, I get it,” Noah said, and gave his sister a mocking stare. “You’ve only recently been liberated by the freedom fighters?”

I laughed at this and Clare rolled her eyes. Noah looked back at me with a grin. It felt so good to laugh again.

“Somebody’s got to fight for a good cause,” she reminded him.

“And somebody’s got to write music about it,” Noah pointed out.

“Noah’s not quite as dedicated to changing the world as some of us,” Clare said.

He shrugged. “I appreciate the effort though. When my little sister saves the human race from our dark demise, I will definitely buy her a beer and play at the party.”

I laughed again and Clare sighed.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, and strolled off toward the bar. I watched him go with a smile.

“He’s adorable,” I said.

“A lot of girls think so,” Clare added. We glanced around the room at the growing number of women that were packing the dance floor.

Noah came back to our table with two drinks. “My treat,” he said. He winked at his sister. “Clare’s favorite,” he said with a wide grin before he walked away.

I stared down at the pink fizzling drinks.

“What are these?” I asked.

Clare grimaced. “They’re these new energy drinks. I swear, it’s legalized crack, but no one has caught on yet.”

I took a sip and it was so sweet it gave me a head rush.

“That’s disgusting,” I said.

“I know,” Clare said. “Noah lives off of them. He only ordered it to annoy me. You’ve got to love brothers.”

We looked over at the stage when the band began to play. A young girl sang lead vocals and her voice was low and seductive. It was the kind of voice that made you want to sink inside someone’s arms. Clare and I were quiet for a few minutes listening to the band. Noah played the bass and his hair fell over his eyes, which I could see made half the girls in the crowd swoon. Their music had a reggae-rock sound.

“So,” I asked Clare, “is Scott the leader of this whole thing?”

She shook her head. “He likes to think he is. He has the most technical experience out of any of us. I guess you could say he’s the brains. He’s hacked into more security systems than anyone. But I’d say Justin’s the leader. He has the most respect. And he avoids computers like a virus. He’s more active. He needs to be working directly with people to feel like he’s making a difference.”

“I don’t think Molly likes me very much,” I said.

Clare smirked. “Molly doesn’t like anybody. She’s pretty intense. She’s eighteen, she already has a master’s in psychology, and right now she’s working toward a medical degree.”

My mouth fell open with amazement.

“I wouldn’t want to be that smart,” Clare added. “Sometimes the more you know, the harder it is to enjoy life. It’s like you lose curiosity or something.” She told me if Molly doesn’t talk to me, it’s probably because she’s psychoanalyzing me. It’s her little hobby.

“And she’s usually right on,” Clare said. “She’s like the psychic of the group, which comes in handy when you’re always trying to figure out who’s on your side.”

“Where do you fit in to all this?”

Clare took a sip of her drink and her lips puckered from the sweet flavor. “That’s a good question. I grew up with these guys so I’m lucky enough just to know them. Justin likes having me along to meet new recruits and make people feel comfortable. He thinks communication is my strength. I want to help design face-to-face schools, if we ever get to that.”