“I’ll show you where—”
“I know where it is,” I say, cutting Shane off.
I walk down a hallway I’ve memorized a dozen times over. So far, the layout is true to form. If I get “lost” it will be by design. I figure I can use the lost oaf premise at least once if I get caught.
I know where I need to go. Downstairs. That’s where the Secretary and LeGru went. I might at least be able to pinpoint his office. But where I really want to go is straight to Raine. I know where her room is—at least I think I do—and I still ache remembering her stricken face as the Secretary pulled her away. I more than ache. I want to hold her and never let go.
Fallen for her? I’m not sure what that even means. But I know something visceral vibrated through me when I could see but not touch her, an urgent need that rattled through whatever fabricated bones Gatsbro gave me when I wanted to run to her but couldn’t. But I look for the stairway that leads down, because now the Favor is just as important to Raine as it is to anyone, even if she doesn’t know it.
The hallways are narrow and dark. One point two meters across, exactly as the plans indicated, but at my very first turn, another hallway exists where there was none on the plans. I stop and listen, straining to hear any sound, any voices that might lead me to the Secretary and LeGru. Now I have to rely on my instincts more than antiquated plans. As much as my BioPerfect can instill dread in me, wondering what sort of unpleasant surprises it may hold, I’m counting on it right now. I feel the rush in my head, the buzz, and then the silence as my hearing divides the static from the distinct—the distant sound of Vina’s laughter, the click of heels on the marble floor upstairs, and then the lowest of murmurs. Hushed voices that could be the Secretary and LeGru. I head down the unknown hallway, walking close to the wall to avoid creaks. The murmurs grow louder, and at the end of the hall a narrow shaft of yellow light streams through where a door has been left ajar. I edge closer trying to keep my breaths shallow, the sound of my heart pounding so loudly in my ears, I’m afraid they may hear it too. I take another step and the floor creaks. I freeze.
Damn these old houses.
I hold my breath listening for movement but I hear only the steady murmur of their voices. I say a prayer for the floor, the first prayer I’ve said outside of grace in years, and step closer. The floor cooperates and I ease myself into position until I can see through the eight-inch gap in the door. It’s a very large room and at the far end I see LeGru’s back. He faces the Secretary, who sits at a desk. LeGru paces like he’s agitated. I hear a few words but mostly they keep their voices so low, I can’t follow what they’re saying, and with LeGru’s pacing, I can’t read their lips either, but at least I know: This is the Secretary’s office. A critical piece of information for when I have the opportunity to return and look for information.
I’m just about to ease away when I hear movement behind me. I spin. Raine has snuck up on me.
“What are you doing?”
I step closer to her, trying to keep my voice low. “I was looking for the restroom. I must have taken a wrong turn.”
Suspicion flashes across her face. “Down here?”
I shake my head and backtrack. “I was looking for you.”
I hate lying to her but it works. She nods like she understands and holds her hand out to me. “Let’s go back up.”
The office door swings open wide and light floods into the hallway. “What’s going on?” the Secretary asks.
“Locke got lost,” Raine says. “He was looking for the restroom.”
“Really?” LeGru steps past the Secretary. His beady eyes narrow, making him look even more ghoulish. “That’s quite a wrong turn you took, boy,” he says. “Upper floor. Perhaps you should ask directions in the future before you begin wandering.”
“Of course, sir.” I make my apologies, mumbling about my bad sense of direction, and Raine and I depart down the hallway. I feel their steady stares drilling into my back. We turn a corner and I stop to look at Raine, her hair pulled back in a severe braid at the base of her neck, not a hair out of place. I reach up, gently stroking her cheek with my thumb, and only briefly brush my lips to hers, not knowing how long we have before LeGru or the Secretary might follow after us. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
She clears her throat and swallows. “He embarrasses me terribly. I should be used to it by now.” Her lower lids brim with tears and she blinks, willing them away, a skill she has perfected. She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go back up.”
I grab her arm as she pulls away, holding her so she has to return my gaze. There’s so much I want to say but can’t. She needs to escape and doesn’t even know why and I can’t tell her. That’s the worst part. All the lines of my goal—the Network’s goal—are blurring.
She waits for me to say something and I force words out of my mouth that have nothing to do with my thoughts. “Your clothes aren’t wet,” I say. “We need to take care of that before he notices.”
“He’s noticed. He notices everything.”
Not everything. I’m still under the radar. At least for now. For the first time I’m grateful for all the possibilities of my BioPerfect and I’m going to mine them for all they’re worth. “I think I should still pour some water down the front of you when we get upstairs.”
She manages a smile. “You would.” We start up the stairs and at the last step she stops me and kisses my neck, whispering in my ear, “Locke Jenkins, trust meter—a solid ten.”
We join the others and the rest of the evening results in the forced socialization that the Collective requires. Shane LeGru is more than a boy
who makes poor choices. He’s a narcissistic bore. I also have to spend most of the evening trying to avoid Vina’s advances. I notice Raine’s expression darken every time Vina lays a hand on my shoulder, or my thigh, or my chest. She’s not shy about where her hands land. I finally wedge myself into a small armchair across from her, a safe distance from her reach, and Raine gives me a faint knowing grin. It’s more than just a new level on the trust meter between us. It’s something else. I’ve never met anyone like her. Her eyes turn to watch me again, like she knew I was thinking about her. She seems to read my mind. How long can I keep the truth from her?
Ian Dvorak seems to be the most focused of the group, steering the conversation back to the project every time Shane steers it away, so concentrated he seems to be oblivious to Cece’s constant gaze on him. It’s an interesting ensemble. It might be an exclusive group, but aside from the virtual notes they talk into place on virtual screens, in many ways it’s not that different from the assigned study groups I had when I was in school—an awkward mix of personalities trying to make the best of a few hours of enforced confinement. Probably the only thing they all have in common is money and pedigrees. I guess my supposed father’s wealth is what opened the door for me.
Since it’s the beginning of a new term, they must collectively agree on a community socialization project to engage in over the coming year. As a group their project will be researched, outlined, and then proposed to the Virtual Collective for approval. I try to follow and contribute to the conversation as they discuss possibilities but being the newcomer I can fake like I’m pondering it all, when what I’m really thinking is How soon can I get into the Secretary’s office and search it? How long do I have to keep up this charade for Raine? Forever?
I stare at her, following the line of her profile, looking at the lips that eagerly kissed mine last night. She turns to look at me, again somehow sensing my eyes on her. My stomach twists. How can I feel this way about her? It’s the last thing I ever expected to happen, but then again, my whole life has been one unexpected turn after another. Now Raine has become one of them.
Shane catches sight of the two of us looking at each other and I look away but it’s too late. I know I’ve made a grave error. I make a point not to look Raine’s way after that and try to join the conversation. Cece suggests three different projects including fund-raising for removing the ugly river abatement walls that are no longer in use. Vina wants a project to support the arts, especially dance. She winks at me as she says it. If she knew about Raine and me dancing together, that might dampen her enthusiasm. Shane suggests funding an additional Tour Bot to boost tourism at the shore. “Bring more revenue to the city and be done with it. I don’t want to turn this into a time-sucking ordeal.”