Gifted (18 page)

“What happened to him?” I ask.

“He was always … um…” she searches for the word, then settles on, “fragile. And after my daughter left, he got depressed. And the work. It got to him. Not everyone is cut out to be a picker.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter.

“He took the plunge. That's what we call it when workers throw themselves in the river.”

I rear back. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Sure,” she says with a cold shrug, sending a chill down my spine.

“Poor Zimri,” I say. My chest aches at the thought of her as a little kid losing her dad like that after her mother left.

“Don't you worry about my Zimri. She's one tough cookie. Just like me.”

“I don't doubt that,” I tell her.

A RoboNurse wheels into the room, blinks at me with green LED eyes, and says, “Visiting hours are over. Please proceed to the exit.”

Instead of leaving, I pull out my ExoScreen glove and link to Nonda's account. The Robo's head swivels to me and the face screen lights up with her info. It takes less than two minutes for me to transfer half of what's left in my spending account—a paltry sum to my family meant to keep me entertained for a few weeks. But paying off Nonda's MediPlex bill makes me happier than anything I've ever bought.

“So,” I say to her when the bill is settled. “I guess I should let you get some rest now.”

“Wait,” she says and grips my hand. “I don't know your name.”

“Orpheus,” I tell her, knowing full well she'll never remember, but still it feels good to say my name out loud. “I'm Orpheus Chanson.”

 

ZIMRI

Brie's POD is
always a wreck, which is one of the reasons I love to come here. The retractable furniture is usually out: table and benches and kitchen counters covered with dishes; sleeping unit and couch both rolled out from the walls so there's only a narrow space to walk. And since she and her mother, Elena, have been on opposite shifts for the past week, the place is messier than usual. Laundry, shoes, shopping bags, and empty food containers cover nearly every surface.

I stand in the gap between the kitchen area and main living area, acting out today's warehouse drama for Brie who lies in the nest of covers on the bed. “Then he's all like, ‘You're staying and working late!'” I pretend Jude is hustling me to the side against the flow of bodies.

“He's such an enema!” she squeals.

“I know, right?” I'm so relieved to see her and tell her everything that I nearly throw myself in her lap. “Just a few days ago he was asking me to do him a favor, then he acts like that!”

“What favor?” she asks.

“Oh my god, he picked me up in his stupid little cart and he was like…” I flop down on the bed beside her and grab her thigh, just like he did to me, then I get my face way too close to hers and say in a deep grumbly voice like his, “You know we make a great team.”

“Ew, gross! What kind of
team
?” Brie asks. “Beach volleyball? Tennis doubles? Two-man bobsled?” she jokes and we laugh. “For real, though.” She rolls to her side and props her head up on her elbow. Her brown curls are especially wild today and her freckles are out since she got some sun. “What did he mean about being a team?”

“He thinks there's a mole from Corp X and wants me to keep an eye on him,” I explain.

“Who is it?” she asks, leaning forward, eager for more details. She has the same eyes as Elena, dark brown with flecks of gold that match her warm skin.

“A guy named Aimery,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, which is hard when his face flashes in my mind, grinning at me with those perfectly straight white teeth while running his hand through his mat of dark hair that has grown unruly over the past few days, as if he hasn't showered.

“Do you think he has a thing for you?” Brie asks.

“Who, the new guy?” My palms get sweaty and blood rushes into my cheeks as I think of him by the river tonight. What was he doing there? And that strange glove on his hand, like the one Tati described seeing in the City …

“No,” says Brie. “Jude. Because of the way he grabbed you and what he said. Hey, wait a sec.” She sits up and examines my face. “You're blushing. Are you … do you…?” She flings herself away from me then whispers, “Do you have a thing for
him
?”

“For Jude?” I squeal. “God, no! Ugh, ew gross, yuck!” I pop off the bed and shake and shimmy to get the very idea off my body.

Brie cackles with delight at my response. “Calm down. I'm just messing with you.” She settles back into the pillows. “What about this Aimery guy. Is he really a mole?”

“No!” I laugh. “But there is something odd about him that I can't quite put my finger on. It's hard to explain but he doesn't act like a Plebe.”

“What's he act like then?” she asks.

“Like this.” I move across the floor, slow and languid but full of confidence with my chin held high. “And he says hello to everyone!” I pretend to be Aimery walking down the warehouse aisles, greeting people. “Hey, Peggy Sue. How's it going, Ana Ng? Jennifer! Juniper! Look at all my friends!” I point and grin and pretend to shake everybody's hands. “I swear, after two days in the warehouse, he knows more people than I do.” I drop down beside her again. “And everybody
loves
him!”

“Including you?” asks Brie, her sly grin returning.

“No,” I say defensively. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“But then why…” She points at me and rubs her cheeks. “Why are you are so flushed?”

I wasn't going to talk about Aimery. Or at least about the weird thoughts that flutter through my mind about him. How kind he was after Billingsley came to tell me Nonda had been found. The way he raises both eyebrows at me whenever something absurd happens in the warehouse, then we both have to look away so we don't laugh. How he said my name is fitting and asks me every night after work if I'll show him a good place to get some food, but I haven't yet because I've been in a rush to visit Nonda. Not to mention how he stood up to Jude on my behalf and sang my song to me on the river path tonight.

Brie grins like she knows something.

“What?”

She keeps grinning.

“What!” I demand.

“Dorian?” she says slowly, slyly, crawling toward the edge of the bed while keeping her eyes on me. “Is this about Dor?”

“Is what about him?”

“All this blushy, hand-wringing stuff you're doing. Are you holding out on me?”

“No! Not at all!” I protest way too much. My stomach does an inside out whamma-jamma rollover when I think about kissing Dorian by the river and how he came to security with me and stood up to Medgers then hugged me tight and offered to stay with me if I didn't want to stay alone. How he found me during a tenner after word spread that Nonda was in the MediPlex then gave me the bike and told me that he missed me. I bury my face in my hands. After all that, how can I have these feelings for Aimery!

“Oh, god,” I say, “this is all way too complicated and I don't have time for any of it!”

“Why?” asks Brie, clearly excited. She gets off the bed and grabs my shoulders. “I think it's fantastic. You and Dor have known each other since you were little. You have a ton in common. You like all the same things. He's gorgeous. What's complicated about that?”

I stand there, trying to find the words to tell her everything, like how sometimes when that kiss by the river floats through my mind, I watch myself pull away but when I look up, I see Aimery instead of Dorian.

“So complicated. So complicated,” I mutter. Then to make matters worse, my HandHeld beeps. I look down and see that Dorian has arrived.

*   *   *

“I don't know about this.” Dorian paces as Brie shoves clothes and shoes into the closet and retracts the sleeping unit into the wall so there's more room in the main space for the three of us.

I sit on the couch with my head in my hands. I didn't expect Dorian to try to talk me out of doing the concert tomorrow night and the argument is giving me a headache.

“Don't you think it's weird, though?” he asks. “First the doctor and then that guy from the warehouse, what's his name, Avery?”

“Aimery,” I mumble, trying to seem indifferent.

“They both heard your song on the waves.”

I feel my body buzz and soar at the thought of DJ HiJax playing my song.

“If they heard it, then Medgers could have heard it and if she heard it, she'll have her ear to the ground, listening for any hint that you're putting on a show,” Dorian says.

“But Tati has my back,” I tell him again. “She'll cause a distraction at the PODPlex so security will be busy.”

“Still,” Dorian argues. “If Medgers gets the slightest hint, you know she'll come after you even if the entire PODPlex is on fire. She's had it in for your family for years!”

“Even if you do get caught, what's the worst-case scenario?” Brie asks as she shoves laundry into the MicrobeZapper.

I look away. I still haven't told either of them about Smythe and Beauregarde snooping around the other day.

“Best-case scenario, a justice broker shows up at your door and demands the money you made for playing music,” Dorian says. “And if you can't pay, you go to jail to work off your debt. Worst-case scenario,” he presses his fingers into the sides of his head, “bzzt!”

“Oh, come on!” I say. “That's just a myth. Has anyone ever really gotten their brain zapped for playing illegal music?”

“I don't know, but I don't want to be the one who finds out. You know full well that big City corporate justice brokers are way better than the ones we get assigned by Corp X, and Arbiters always side with the bigwigs, so I wouldn't test those waters,” Dorian says.

That shuts me up. He is right, of course. Anytime a Plebe goes up against a Plute company, the Plebe loses big-time, like my mom or Levon or my father's friend Captain Jack.

“And this concert is different than the others you've done,” Dorian goes on. “Because people will be paying you directly for the music. Maybe there's some gray area when you put on a show to benefit someone else and you never touch a dime, but there's no doubt that what you're planning to do is one hundred percent, totally illegal.”

I slump back against the sofa. “If I don't show up at the MediPlex tomorrow with a wad of cash, Nonda goes home and that can't happen yet.”

“If you get caught then she could be worse off,” Dorian argues. “But I think there's another way.”

Brie and I both blink at him. “What?” we ask at the same time.

“Just don't sing,” he says. “When people show up, ask them to donate some money to Nonda's care. You've done enough for other people. No one will begrudge you that.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Brie says, but I stand there flabbergasted.

My stomach curdles. My fingers and toes clench. “Don't sing?” I say through gritted teeth.

“I'm suggesting that you don't sing for money tomorrow night,” he clarifies.

Every ounce of anger I've ever felt over being told to be quiet all my life comes rushing through my body. Nonda shushing me in the bath. My father smacking me on the mouth for singing on the tram. RoboNannies taking apart the instruments I created out of our meager supply of toys.

“All my life, everyone has warned me that music would ruin everything, like it did for my mother,” I say as I stomp around Brie's POD, tidy now that all the furniture's put away. When we were little, Brie and I took turns lying in the bed as it retracted into the wall to see who could stay inside the longest. Brie couldn't last for more than a few minutes and needed me to talk to her the whole time to prove I hadn't left. I, on the other hand, could have stayed inside that dark and cozy space for hours singing to myself. But hearing Dr. Garcia and Aimery sing my song today made me realize I don't want to keep my music hidden any longer.

I turn to Dorian. “You know that music is the one thing that makes my life worth living, so if I want to make music then I'm going to make music,” I tell him. “And if a concert is the only way I have of taking care of my grandmother, then I'm going to do it. And I won't let some a-hole in the City who thinks he owns everything, or a weasel like Medgers—or you—stop me. I decide what to do with my life!”

“But you're putting yourself at risk!” Dorian yells.

“You sound like your dad,” I yell back.

“It's better than being your mom,” he says. “She wouldn't stop either and look what it got her!”

“OUT!” I yell at him as I stomp toward Brie's door. “It got her out of this hellhole life.”

“If you get caught, you could lose everything,” Dorian calls after me. “Just like your mom did.”

I spin around and stare at him, seething. “What did she lose? A crap job in a warehouse?”

“She lost a lot more than that!” When I stare at him blankly, he steps toward me with his hands out and he says, “She lost you.”

 

VERSE FIVE

ORPHEUS

Since I've decided
to stay at the Complex for a while longer, I have a few things to take care of the next day after work. First, I have to find a shower and some new clothes. Five days in the same pants has killed the self-cleaning microbes in the fabric, and washing in the river isn't doing much to get me clean. Second, I have to find a place to live because if I sleep in my car much longer, I'll permanently become a hunchback. When I come out of the warehouse after the seven o'clock buzzer, I look for Zimri. Jude moved me to a new sector today, no doubt as payback for standing up to him, so I haven't seen her all day, which sucks.

While I'm searching the crowd for her unmistakable puff of hair, a girl called Veronica, who worked in the same sector as me today, saunters up. “Hey there, Aimery! You heading up to the Strip for some fun?” she asks in a singsong voice.