Awaken (4 page)

I ran my fingers through my hair, which fell long and straight. There was nothing in it. Then it all came together, why Mike ran out to talk to us tonight and why he slid his hand along the roof of the car.

“Huh,” I muttered to myself. I opened the window and stretched my arm over the roof until I felt the bug latched to the cold, metal surface. Justin watched me as I pulled my hand back and held out a thin, magnetic chip, about the size of a quarter.

“I think this bug needs to catch a train headed straight for Canada,” I said, picturing the heated look on my father’s face when he discovered I was fleeing the country. Justin smirked and guessed my thoughts.

“That might not help your trust issues,” he pointed out as we swerved down the road. The car bounced and dipped between train tracks and I held on to the dashboard to steady myself. I looked back and the car behind us was still gaining ground. Justin pointed to a grab handle above my window.

“Hold on to that,” he said quickly. I grabbed the handle and braced myself. He swerved over two lanes, nearly sideswiping a ZipShuttle. The other car followed and was right behind us again. He whipped the steering wheel and we spun off the road, the tires screeching and kicking up dust, just as a train flew by, blocking off the other car. He hit the brakes and the car squealed to a stop at the edge of the railway. Justin’s arm was stretched out in front of me to hold me back in case I flew forward. He dropped his arm and just as I was about to take a breath of relief, another train sped toward us. I squeezed my eyes shut and swore under my breath. Justin accelerated over the curb onto the turf, speeding over the plastic grass landscape, barely missing the train as it pummeled by. The sports car jostled over bumps in the ground and we swerved around a scattering of plastic trees and shrubs.

“This is the scenic portion of the drive,” he said, and I laughed out loud, finally opening my eyes.

“It’s thoughtful of you.”

We drove over the turf until we reached the next intersection and turned toward a tunnel heading downtown to the international station. I looked over my shoulder, but I didn’t see headlights behind us. We entered the tunnel – lit above and around us with colorful advertisements moving on digital screens. It felt like we were flying through a cocoon of lights.

“I’m twenty,” Justin said.

“What?” I shouted over the noise of traffic. I winced when a train blew past us, only inches from the side of the car. The tunnel opened up to expose a valley below, lit up with a thousand city lights. We turned a corner and sped down the hill, alongside the international train tracks.

“You asked me how old I was,” he repeated. “I’m twenty.”

I smiled and wondered what my dad would do if he knew I was in a car with a twenty-year-old DS dropout.

A train slowed down next to us with yellow lights illuminating the words
British Columbia
on its side. I threw the chip out the window and its magnetic surface stuck to the side.

We turned off the train route and headed back onto the residential streets. As we were getting close to my house, I stared out the window, wondering what to say to Justin. How do you thank someone for giving you a ride home and apologize for the inconvenient, near-death car chase? I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye but he just focused on the road, his jaw tight and his face thoughtful. We turned onto my street and I asked him to pull over.

“This is fine,” I said.

“Which house is yours?”

“It’s right up the street.” I pointed to my house in the distance, which was hard to miss since it took up most of the block. “I’ll get out here.”

Justin pulled to the side of the road and when the car was still, he turned and stared at me. Everything was suddenly quiet and the space inside the car was too small. I felt trapped, like too much energy was circulating between us. My heart was still hammering against my ribs. Justin dropped his hands from the steering wheel. He looked surprisingly calm considering the last twenty minutes.

“Where did you learn to drive like that?” I asked.

“Where did you learn how to trace a bug that fast?” he asked me.

I shrugged. I had forgotten all about that. “It’s easy.”

“Easy?” He waited for me to explain. I raised my hands up in the air like it was no big deal.

“Those tags run on the electromagnetic spectrum – they use radio frequencies. So I found a program that can detect low or medium frequencies and I scanned a five-foot area. It picked up the signal.”

His eyebrows flattened with disbelief. “And that’s everyday knowledge to you?”

I smiled as his question sunk in. “Wow,” I said. I slapped my hand over my forehead and leaned back in the seat. “I’m such a dork.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile. His dark eyes stayed on mine, wide and surprised and it finally hit me what he was thinking. What kind of normal person is bugged and followed for going to a study group? What kind of teenage girl knows how to detect a tracker? He must think I’m either clinically insane or an escaped convict. I pulled my bag off the floor and tried to pretend like this wasn’t the most humiliating moment of my life.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked.

I hung my head. “Look, my life, like you might have noticed, is a little dysfunctional. So I won’t feel bad if I don’t hear from you again,” I said, and avoided his eyes as I opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride.” I slammed the door shut before he could respond. A couple seconds later I heard his car accelerate past me, but I refused to look up. I walked over the turf grass toward the front door and longed to hide inside the safe walls of my digital world where I could always appear perfect.

When I walked in the door, Baley bounded into the foyer to meet me. I squatted down and she threw her paws on my shoulders and slobbered my neck with kisses. At least someone loved me unconditionally. I heard my dad yell my name from down the hall and my face fell. His voice echoed against the high white walls and along the cold laminate floor. I followed his voice to his office, with Baley trailing behind me. He looked up from his computer when I walked in and motioned for me to sit down. I slumped into the brown leather chair across from his desk and awaited my interrogation. I glanced around the room; every inch of wall space was cluttered with certificates, plaques, and awards. Something came in the mail weekly to commemorate my dad on his honorable academic achievements and efforts to improve the education system. He moved his flipscreen aside and looked at me with a heavy stare. The glare of distrust in his eyes made my heart shrink in my chest.

“How was the study group?” he asked.

I babbled an automated reply he would accept. The tutor was great … he answered all my questions … I finished the assignment. The only thing that made my dad react is when I told him I was surprised by the attendance.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“I was surprised with the turnout. There were – ”

“Six other students there,” he finished for me. “Seven people including Mike Fisher, the teacher. He told me you were sitting with a boy you seemed to know pretty well.”

I stared back at him and my eyes narrowed. Of course he could check the attendance online. Of course he knew every tutor in the city, in the country for that matter. But that isn’t what hurt the most.

“You didn’t trust me.”

My dad looked down at his hands. He interlocked his long, pale fingers.

“Madeline, I’m trying.”

I shook my head with defiance. “You’re
trying?
Is that what you call using Mike to plant a bug on me? Was he the same guy following us, or did you hire the police to do that?”

A mocking smile filled his face. “I see you caught on to that. And I’m happy you changed your mind about going to Canada.” His eyes softened and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but someone needs to look out for you.”

I had to clench my teeth to keep from arguing. I pressed my fingers into the armrests until they made indentions in the leather.

“Your mother is the one that convinced me to let you go tonight. So you can thank her. I’m more concerned about this boy you met, Justin Solvi? How do you know him?”

I imagined he had already searched every file available on Justin’s ba ckground.

“I met him at an online tutor session. It’s no big deal.”

His eyes were unconvinced and his silence meant he wanted a further explanation.

“I took a lot of writing courses this year and you know it’s not my best subject. So, Justin recommended I go to a study group downtown. That’s it.”

As my father studied my appearance, I was grateful for the first time tonight that I looked so drab. I obviously didn’t go out of my way to impress anyone. And I was telling the truth. Even if my dad read every online chat between us, which he probably had, Justin and I had only been studying acquaintances. I didn’t have to admit he was also the most beautiful person I’d ever been in contact with.

My dad leaned forward in his chair and watched me carefully.

“I don’t think you should see him again,” he said, in a tone that meant this wasn’t open for debate. “He isn’t a good influence.”

I glared back at him. “It was just a study session,” I said. “And believe me, I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again.” My dad’s shoulders finally settled and he leaned back in his chair.

“As far as I can see you’re telling the truth.”

My eyes pleaded with him. “Dad, we can’t keep doing this. You need to forgive me.”

He shook his head and stared down at his hands.

“It’s going to take time,” he said, and his eyes met mine. “You broke the law, Maddie. You stole from me and sold my computer files to a group of digital school protesters,” he said, as if he had to remind me why I was on probation.

I groaned up at the ceiling. “I didn’t sell anything. They offered me money but I didn’t take it.”

“I don’t care about the money. It’s your character that worries me.”

“
My
character? Do you know what you’ve created?” I sat up in my chair and met his eyes. “You’ve turned my life into a computer program. People aren’t robots; we’re not a bunch of machines for you to operate.”

He shook his head. “Go to your room, Madeline.”

He always did this. As soon as I was brave enough to voice my thoughts, he always silenced me.

“You’re not saving lives, Dad. You can’t save lives when no one’s really li ving a nymore.”

My dad stood up. “That’s enough. I said go to your room.”

I jumped up and stomped out of the office. I pounded up the stairs and it took every ounce of restraint I had to keep from slamming my bedroom door shut. I dropped onto my bed and pointed my finger at the wall stereo. The sensor recognized my fingerprint and I scrolled down a list of songs until I found the playlist I wanted. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as acoustic music filled the room. The guitar chords slowly defused the memory of my dad’s eyes, his ridicule and doubt. I let myself escape from my dismal world into a lighter one.

I grabbed my brush pen off the nightstand and turned on the ceiling canvas above my bed. The laser from the end of my brush pen painted the blank screen with color. I drew a picture of the birds I saw earlier in the day; I wanted to hold on to the image of the arrow they made in the sky. I drew words above the picture, words that were echoing through my mind like a prayer:
Please Don’t Be Short-term to Me.
Then I realized I wasn’t thinking about the birds.

I stared at the words and my mind traveled to Justin. I wondered where he was, what he was doing. Did he live alone? Did he have roommates? Did he have a girlfriend? I dropped my pen and grabbed a pillow to smother over my face.

Stupid, stupid Madeline. He’s way out of your league.

Even though digital school is year-round, it’s still customary to take weekends off. Saturday morning I lazily watched the weather channel on our kitchen wall screen and ate my routine breakfast of a protein bar and vita-float.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Mom asked when she walked into the room.

I popped a piece of the granola bar in my mouth. “There’s a book talk in New York I might go to. Or, a friend of mine’s a film editor in Australia and his movie debuts tonight, so I might catch that.” I swallowed the bar down with a mouthful of the orange float and felt Baley’s wet nose nudge my leg. She sat at attention next to the table, her eyes fixed on my breakfast.

Mom poured a cup of coffee and sat down next to me at the table.

“You kids have so many options these days. Don’t you ever feel overwhelmed in that cyberworld?” I didn’t answer her because this wasn’t a question. It was more like an opinion she felt obligated to voice on a daily basis. Sometimes I wondered how she and my dad could stand being in the same room together, let alone be married. While my dad was trying to digitalize all of civilization, my mom was equally determined to humanize it.

“Your father had to go out of town this morning,” she said.

My head automatically perked up at this news. When Dad left town it was as if a strangling collar was unfastened from my neck.

She noticed my reaction and frowned. “He’s your father, Madeline, not your prison guard.” She shook her head and told me she couldn’t help overhearing our conversation last night.

“It wasn’t a conversation,” I said with a scowl. “Conversations are two-sided, which Dad doesn’t seem to understand.”

The only person who had ever been on my side was my mom. She believed digital school had gone too far. That it was an institution. But she also loved my dad and respected his vision to make the world a safer place.

“I wish he could let it go,” I said. “I’m never going to steal from him again. I promise.”

She nodded. “I know.”

My mom and I had gone over my Rebellion a thousand times. When I was fifteen years old, I met of group of people online who were planning a protest against digital school. They wanted the confidential coordinates for all the radio towers in the country used to distribute the digital school signal. These files were only accessible to a handful of people, my father, obviously, being one of them.