Fast-Tracked (16 page)

No. I won’t let it happen. I’m stronger than any of these fast-trackers could ever hope to be. What happened between Avery and I was simply a physical reaction – the heightened hormones of a teenager temporarily taking over and responding on their own, completely independent of any real feelings. I loathe him and every other fast-tracker around me and that isn’t about to change.

“Damn, you’re good,”
Autumn
whispered to me in a sultry voice. “You keep that up and you’ll have a marriage proposal before you’ve even picked a career.”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and prayed she was wrong.

Chapter 10

Even though it was only early evening when I finally got back to the college, I was completely exhausted. I suspected the cause was more emotional than physical and forced myself to head to the library instead of my bed. I didn’t even bother to change out of my dress.

Unfortunately, the information I wanted was restricted to library use only. So I couldn’t just tap it onto my tablet and read through it at my leisure. So I passed the main kiosk, and headed to one of the red viewing screens that lined the far wall. I quickly located and dove into the database Mrs.
Glabough
had mentioned. It had a great search engine and allowed me to easily navigate through all the different fast-trackers and the history of how they got to where they are today.

I was right about
Autumn’s
father. Laurence Xavier Eggleston and his wife Marana Joyce Eggleston owned most of the farmlands and food processing centers in the east. According to an article I found, their union had caused a big stir among fast-trackers because it had instantaneously propelled the two of them to the top of fast-tracker rank, second only to Theodore and Marisa Winthrop

The list also confirmed my career path for me. The most powerful fast-trackers that weren’t unbelievably rich were politicians. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a single successful newbie fast-tracker politician that hadn’t first been a successful business owner. And that could pose quite a problem for me. Most fast-trackers became owners of businesses in one of two ways; they inherited them or married into them. Neither way was possible for me.

That left me with an impossibly difficult third option. I would need to find a business still owned by a silver level citizen or lower. As a fast-tracker I could simply pluck that business right out of their hands and there was nothing they could do about it. They would automatically become the company’s CEO and be rewarded with a generous salary. But if their business was already successful, it might only be a fraction of what they used to receive.

The hurdles that I faced were daunting. First of all, any business worth owning had already been snatched up by other fast-trackers. Any remaining businesses were guaranteed to be barely getting by or tiny little family-run businesses that nobody really cared about. My only chance of success would be finding a start-up business that hadn’t yet been noticed, but had the potential of being insanely profitable. Then I’d have to push my morals to the side and snatch it from them.

There was a fourth option. It would placate my morals, but it wasn’t very practical. I could somehow build capital on my own and start up my own business – but until the business started making money, I would be without income. The allowance I received ended as soon as I entered the workforce, whether or not I made money in it. Sure, there were plenty of fast-trackers willing to lend capital to other fast-trackers. But as a newbie I had about as much chance of that happening as I had of becoming a politician without first being a successful business owner. I sighed in frustration and banged my head against the table.

Of course that was the very moment Mrs.
Glabough
decided to walk into the room. “Should I be worried about you?” she asked in a casual tone.

“No,” I responded adamantly.

She gave me a doubtful look. “You left with Avery Huntington – need I point out that he’s not a girl? And now, over a day later, here you are in the library sitting in a dress from a commissioned order that hasn’t even been filled yet? Just what am I supposed to think?” she said scornfully. “You wouldn’t be the first newbie to try sleeping their way into the folds of real fast-trackers. Let me assure you, it never ends well.” I automatically cringed back from the look of disappointment on her face.

“I was afraid you’d think something like that when I sent the email, but I didn’t want you to worry,” I explained. “Yes, I went to the party with Avery Huntington, but we got separated and I ran into Autumn Rayne Eggleston.” Her brow furrowed with worry, so I quickly said, “Don’t worry. Against all odds she decided to take me under her wing. I was out with her shopping for a dress to wear to her father’s benefit when I decided to check on the commission.” I gestured to the cocktail dress.

“So you’re not sleeping with Avery or any of the other boys?” Her tone was still skeptical.

Instead of showing my anger at her continued questioning, I nicely said, “Actually Autumn was quite intrigued with how I had managed to gain and keep Avery’s rapt attention. She decided it was my chaste refusal of his advances that finally grabbed his notice. She theorizes if I keep it up I might just be able to get a proposal out of him. So I can assure you of the status of my virtue and I can assure you it’s in no danger of changing in the foreseeable future.” I felt a twisted satisfaction as I watched the worry and concern melt from her face.

“Well I’m relieved that my faith in you has not been misplaced, but I should caution you: while
Autumn
is a very powerful friend to have, she is twice as dangerous an enemy, so tread carefully around her.”

I wanted to snap back a, “Duh.” But instead I shook my head.

My conversation with Mrs.
Glabough
had zapped all of my remaining energy, so I dragged myself back to my apartment, pausing just long enough to open the door without tearing the garbage bag. Again I was glad I had taken that step. This time, instead of bright pink powder there was a jet black powder that bore a striking resemblance to the toner found in ink cartridges we used at my old school. I carefully closed the bag, but set it aside so I could see if it was a disappearing ink, or permanent like I suspected.

I taped a new bag by the door and grabbed my tablet to view the perpetrators. There was no need to hold onto the powder. The recording clearly showed Vera and Myra tapping the ink out of several cartridges and then using a blow-dryer to blow it under the crack in my door.

Not only were these girls complete and total idiots, but there was not a single creative bone in either of their bodies. If there was they would have thought of something new.

I put the tablet aside. I was too exhausted to do anything about it right now. I resolved to deal with it in the morning.

 
I set my alarm to wake up early the next day. After a weekend of overindulging, I needed to exercise. The school gym was closed until the rest of the fast-trackers arrived. So that meant a nice long run instead. My feet hit the pavement at five fifteen. The sun wasn’t due to rise for another fifteen minutes, so it was still pretty dark out. But the park was reputed to be one of the safest places in the city. So I began my run without fear. However, knowing no one was about to jump out of the shadows at me didn’t keep my mind from imagining it.

I was the only one running the park’s perimeter at this early hour and the quiet seclusion amplified every little noise I heard. On the plus side, it caused me to run faster than I usually would have. On the negative side it left me as nervous as a
hare
in the middle of a butcher’s shop.

So it was no surprise when I neared the college that the crash of a garbage can being emptied caused me to scream and jump. When I saw the back of a man in an orange jumper I chastised myself for being so silly and continued with my cool-down jog.

“Sorry, ma’am.
I didn’t see you there,” a voice nervously apologized.

The familiar quality of the voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned and saw the man had already collected his things and was quickly hurrying away toward the next can. This time I was dressed to pursue and quickly caught up to him. I finally understood how he was able to disappear so quietly and easily the other night. The large collection bin that held the garbage used a quiet hover technology instead of wheels and glided quickly and easily between bins.

I placed my hand on his arm and caused him to flinch. My breath caught when he turned around. I saw the heavily shadowed blue eyes of Byron staring back at me.

Despite all the things I wanted to tell him and ask of him, I was so overcome with emotions that I couldn’t talk. Instead I just stared at him while tears streamed down my face.

“I tried to get reassigned to a different area, but they wouldn’t allow it,” he said somberly. I couldn’t tell if he meant it as an apology or a complaint.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. He was covered head to toe in dirt and smelled horrible. But none of that bothered me as much as the sad defeated look I saw in his eyes. I knew his new life would be pretty miserable, but he had always been so strong that I never actually worried about how he would deal with it until now. I was suddenly scared for him. Automatically I reached out to comfort him.

“Don’t!” he warned and jumped back from me.

“Byron,” I pleaded. “Please let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help,” he growled back and started to walk away.

Quickly I darted back in front of him.
“Why not?”
I demanded. “I want to – and despite what you say, you obviously need it.” I immediately regretted my words: they came out much harsher than I intended.

“The only thing I need is make it through the next year. I need to wait until Camille has safely made it through assessment and been placed. Then I can fight to get my placement corrected.” His face had contorted into a scowl, but at least a spark had returned to his eyes even if it was an angry one.

I tried again to reason with him. “Then what harm is there in letting me help make that year easier on you?” I asked as I tried to place my hand back on his arm. The moment he caught sight of the motion he jerked back like my mere presence offended him.

“I already told you I don’t want help from the likes of you. So why don’t you go back and enjoy the pretty little life your dad’s ass-kissing bought you. I’ll go back to the one earned by my father standing up for people who can’t stand up for themselves.” He let out an angry huff and once again started to leave.

Meekly I called after him, “Wait, are you saying the only reason I was fast-tracked was to aide in the example made of your father compared to mine?
Follow the rules and your family is rewarded, make waves and your child gets sunk
?” Byron swung back around, and I searched his face frantically, desperately hoping for some sign that what I said was off-base.

But his face only confirmed what I was saying. “Something
like
that.” Then he shrugged and added, “At least my assignment wasn’t the result of unnecessary deaths.” Again he started to leave.

“Hold on,” I called after him. He couldn’t drop a bomb like that and just walk away. “You can’t just say… I mean, it’s not…”

Barely turning to face me, he answered, “Look, it’s just the way it is. Don’t go and do anything stupid and rash over it. Hurting your status will only hurt you. It won’t do me a darn bit of good, so don’t bother. Just get on with your silly little life and stop bothering me,” he snarled coldly at me.

I felt my heart snap in two. I realized even if I was able to fix this mess he was in, I couldn’t fix us. In such a short amount of time the Byron I knew and loved had completely disappeared and had been replaced by a cold, hardened man who was determined to hate me for my father’s actions.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?” a passing jogger suddenly yelled as he ran over to me. “Is this worker bothering you?” he demanded.

“No, I’m fine,” I insisted. I pressed at my red eyes to dry them.

“You don’t look fine. Look, if that scum did anything…”

“I said I’m fine!” I looked up and realized Byron had already disappeared. Seeing the jogger wasn’t anywhere close to convinced, I explained, “Look, I’m just upset. I once knew that guy and it’s disturbing to see him fallen so low.”

The jogger suddenly appeared very uncomfortable and nervous. “As long as you’re okay,” he said and then quickly jogged away.

I sprinted the entire way back to my apartment, throwing the door open so hard that it shredded the garbage bag behind it. Grabbing my tablet I quickly punched in my home number.

My mom answered. “Hi, honey, I was hoping to hear from you soon,” she chirped.

“Where’s Dad?” I barked.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

My response was flat: “Just get Dad.”

“Uh, okay.” She disappeared from the screen.

She must have warned my dad, because before his face was even visible in the screen he was asking, “Alexandria, what’s wrong?” His alarmed tone only fueled my anger.

“Did you have something to do with my fast-tracker status?” I demanded.

“Whoa, calm down and take a breath, honey. What’s going on?” His tone sounded patronizing.