How to Lead a Life of Crime (21 page)

But that doesn’t matter. Joi’s clearly been brought here to die. I thought I could take whatever Mandel threw at me. I’d endure the beatings and battle his Wolves. I’d make him believe that I was his masterpiece. Then I’d graduate and destroy the academy. I thought this time, I was willing to do anything. Now Mandel will know that it’s all just an act. Because there’s one thing that I will not do. Not even to save the world from a monster. I won’t let Joi die.

“Who is she?” I try to make the question sound casual.

“That’s June,” Gwendolyn replies, and I realize I should have kept my mouth shut. “I wouldn’t get too attached. She won’t last long at this school. She doesn’t even have a criminal record. But Mr. Mandel wanted to give her a shot. He says she had a very interesting childhood. But who didn’t, right?”

“Where did she grow up?” I ask, wishing I’d paid more attention to June’s profile.

“What do you care?” Gwendolyn demands. She almost sounds jealous.

“I thought we’re supposed to figure out what’s going on with the group. Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that Mandel would make a girl fight a guy the size of a grizzly bear?”

Gwendolyn reluctantly pulls the tablet computer out of her handbag and scrolls through June’s profile. “She grew up in Bosnia. Says here her father was some kind of war criminal.”

“Does it mention her last name?”

This time Gwendolyn doesn’t even bother to check. “No,” she replies.

I’m holding my breath when the fight kicks off. I force myself to stay calm. I need to wait for the right moment to intervene. When Joi’s in real danger, I’ll clear the catwalk glass. That’s how Gwendolyn ended my battle with Ivan. But I can’t act a second too soon or I’ll risk looking desperate. If Mandel suspects that I still have feelings for Joi, her fate may be sealed.

The first time Max lunges at Joi, I almost tackle Gwendolyn for the remote control. I resist the urge long enough to see Joi gracefully step to one side, grab the beast by his elbow, and flip him onto his back. Max doesn’t seem surprised, and I begin to wonder if they’ve fought before. He immediately leaps to his feet and mounts a second attack. This time Joi sends him skidding facedown across the mat. She’s obviously been trained in some form of judo. And she’s good. Really good. Five minutes into the battle, Max’s torso is drenched in sweat, and his chest is heaving. Every time Joi throws him, it takes him longer to recover. She should go on the offense. One vicious kick would bring the beast to his knees. But Joi simply refuses to fight.

“The girl’s a loser,” Gwendolyn observes coldly. “She just defends. She won’t attack.”

“Looks to me like she’s winning,” I counter.

“For now. But as soon as June makes one mistake, she’s dead.” I see a self-satisfied smirk appear on Gwendolyn’s face, and I know she doesn’t mean beaten. She’s actually waiting to watch Joi die.

“Has anyone ever been killed in the Incubation Suites?” I ask.

“If not, there’s a first time for everything,” Gwendolyn responds, keeping her eyes on the action. “I only saved Ivan because I thought he’d be useful. But June is worthless. Maybe you’ve got a hard-on for her, but I couldn’t care less if she makes it upstairs.”

“You’re such a charmer,” I say as I slide a bit closer to Gwendolyn.

“It’s a gift,” she replies, edging away.

The contest continues for another ten minutes—long enough for my hope to build beyond reason. And then Joi finally makes a fatal error. Her hair breaks loose from its bun, and black curls spring in every direction. She should tie it back immediately, but she doesn’t. And the next time Max lunges, he gets ahold of a hunk of it. He drags Joi to his chest and wraps a massive arm around her neck. I can see his bicep flex as he starts to squeeze.

Gwendolyn is watching with such glee that she’s forgotten to guard the remote. When I pluck it out of her hands and click the button, she responds by karate-chopping my injured arm. It’s a shameless move, and it’s not very smart. One good limb is all I need. I send the girl flying.

Gwendolyn slams against the side of the enclosure and drops to the floor with a loud thump. They must have heard it down in the gym because five sets of eyes are now trained on the catwalk’s clear glass. The instructor and four of the newbies are all staring up at me. The other two students are still locked in mortal combat. Max hasn’t let Joi go. Then without any warning, a foot shoots out and slams into the back of his knee. Max’s leg buckles, and he loses his balance. When he topples, Joi rolls away, out of his reach. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who saw what just happened, and I can barely believe my own eyes. Another newbie rescued Joi. And it wasn’t one of the athletic-looking specimens standing on the sidelines. Joi’s savior is a girl who resembles an overfed chipmunk.

Joi jumps to her feet and casts a quick glance at the kid who helped her. Then she looks up at the catwalk. Her face gives nothing away. I’d understand if she didn’t recognize me. I’m not the person she used to know. But Joi is still the most magnificent girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Get a good look,” Gwendolyn sneers behind me.

• • •

The worst thirty-six hours of my entire existence culminates with the Beauty Pageant. I have not slept or eaten since I last saw Joi. I’ve been searching in vain for some way to rescue her. But I can’t think of anything that won’t put her life in more danger. Mandel must know what I did in the Incubation Suites’ gym. He wants to see what I’m going to do next.

I have no option but to wait with the crowd for the pageant to begin. When the elevator arrives, Joi is the last one to exit. My gaze never leaves her as the newbies are led to their lodgings. I’m glad the academy’s groomers let her keep her hair long. I hope it still smells of jasmine. The other contestants are dressed to the nines, but Joi has chosen a simple black shift dress. I wonder if my classmates see what I do—the last person on earth who should be here.

When the newbies have vanished into their rooms, the rest of the students rush to one end of the balcony, where Caleb is waiting to take their bets. I follow the gamblers, hoping for a chance to slip inside Joi’s room while everyone else is distracted. I’m outside her dorm, and I see her. She’s standing in the doorway as though she knew I’d come. She purses her lips and blows me a kiss—right before she slides the door shut in my face.

I feel a hand grip my arm. Someone is leading me away. “Come on, Flick,” I hear Gwendolyn say. “Let’s go have some fun.”

The mob goes quiet as we approach. I don’t recall Gwendolyn betting at the beginning of last semester. But tonight she’s carrying a scrap of paper, which she presents to Caleb. He unfolds it and looks up at her. The others are breathlessly awaiting the verdict. Gwendolyn is the Dux. She knows things that the rest of them do not.

“Win or lose?” Caleb asks.

“Lose,” Gwendolyn says with a smile. “Tell them who.”

“One vote for June to lose,” Caleb calls out to the crowd. The Wolves among them smell blood, and that drives all the killers half-wild.

I see Ella standing nearby with a pad and pen. “May I?” I ask.

Her eyebrows are much more expressive now that she’s let them grow back. I wonder what she thinks she knows. She doesn’t say anything as she hands over the pad and pen. Someone else witnesses the exchange and quickly hushes the frenzied gamblers. I pass my bet to Caleb. I’ve written the name JUNE in letters large enough for everyone to read.

“To lose?” Caleb asks.

“To win,” I correct him.

If there’s no way to escape, I’ll just have to help Joi survive. And that’s going to take a set of flaming brass balls.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE WITCH

T
he first time I visited Joi’s colony, I almost swore I’d never go back. It was six days after our encounter at the Russian Baths. I knew where she lived. I’d spent several evenings camped out across the road, waiting for a glimpse of her. Every night, she’d arrive on Pitt Street with a shopping bag in each hand. The building she entered was lousy with kids. The younger ones were always outside, decorating the sidewalk with chalk drawings or taking turns on a wobbly scooter. A dozen teenagers came and went every hour. I just assumed procreation was the sport of choice on the Lower East Side. I had no idea that the children belonged to Joi.

I tried to convince myself that it was enough to watch her from a distance. But it wasn’t. On the sixth night, I saw Joi turn the corner in front of Our Lady of Sorrows, and my body began to move of its own volition. I’d been avoiding her since the baths, and I fully expected some form of punishment.

Joi grinned and handed me one of her shopping bags. I wasn’t prepared for it to weigh twenty pounds. I peeked inside and discovered it was loaded with soup cans.

“I guess you really love chicken noodle soup,” I said.

“It’s a crowd-pleaser,” she replied.

“You’re planning to feed a crowd?”

“Yep. Want to meet them?”

I didn’t want to meet anyone. But I was caught in a cloud of jasmine and cocoa butter, and I couldn’t muster the will to escape.

A kid opened the gates for us, and Joi thanked him by name. When she started downstairs, I hesitated. My every instinct told me not to follow her. But I did. Along the winding hall that led through the basement. Past the little chambers that appeared to be bedrooms. Into the old laundry room with its rusting machines and ratty old furniture. The entire place was infested with children, and they emerged from every crack and crevice to greet Joi.

I didn’t ask who the kids were. It was obvious they were castoffs and rejects. Runaways and orphans. I could barely stand to look at them. I wanted to sprint right back up the stairs.

“Make yourself at home,” said Joi.

“Joi?” A blond girl with heavily lined eyes tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed to one corner of the room. A boy with a mop of curly red hair was standing there, trying his best to blend in with the wall. I thought he might be twelve or so, but he was so painfully thin that it was impossible to tell.

“What’s his name?” Joi asked.

“He won’t say,” the girl told her. “I found him hiding in the ladies’ room at the Seward Park Library.”

Joi walked over to the boy. “Can I call you Curly?” she asked.

He stared at her for a full thirty seconds before he finally nodded.

“Would you like some soup?”

I can’t repeat the story Curly told Joi while I listened in. Even now—after everything I’ve seen. That night, I only heard half of it before I politely requested a name and an address. Then I was up the stairs and out the door. I broke into a SoHo loft and waited an hour for its owner to come home. Then I beat the man so badly that I wasn’t sure if he’d live. I didn’t know what else I could do. It wasn’t rage that made me want to destroy him. I didn’t do it to keep him from hurting another boy. I did it because he’d shown me that the world was even uglier than I ever imagined it could be. I thought I was angry. But I wasn’t. I was absolutely terrified.

I wandered around for hours before finally returning to Pitt Street. One of the urchins led me downstairs. Curly was snuggled up in a sleeping bag on the couch in the laundry room. Joi rose from a chair when she saw the blood on my shirt.

“You found him, then.” It was nothing but a simple statement of fact.

I wanted her to be pleased, and she probably was. The guy deserved everything he got, but beating him wasn’t proof of my bravery. The bravest thing I did that night was go back to Joi’s basement.

• • •

Last night in my dreams, I returned to that SoHo loft. But this time, the man I attacked was Lucian Mandel. I broke every bone in his body. I pummeled his face until it was a shapeless lump of meat. And yet through it all, he never stopped smiling. I woke up this morning with my fists still clenched. I stood at the door until it unlocked, and then I set out in search of him. If I’d found him, I would have killed him. For taking Joi away from Curly and leaving the rest of the Lost Boys alone. Because I remember what it feels like to lose the one person who always promised she’d be there. And for a few minutes this morning, that memory almost drove me mad.

A long, cold shower restored a bit of my sanity. But it will be best for everyone if Mandel stays away from me for a while. I’m not sure I could trust myself in his presence. When I see Joi join the breakfast line on the far side of the cafeteria, the urge to kill him returns. I have to remind myself that if Mandel dies, Joi might too. And nothing can ever happen to her. Until she’s safe, I have a single mission.

Joi’s hair has been woven into a braid, and her simple white shirt is tucked into a black pleated skirt. She’s dressed like a schoolgirl, which makes me wonder if she even knows where she is. She’s smart enough to have figured it out by now. But I see no sign of fear on her face. I’m still studying her when she spots me. And promptly looks away. The gesture says everything. I can think of a million reasons why Joi wouldn’t want to speak to me. Who knows what she’s heard—or what Mandel has told her.

I slip behind Joi at the breakfast line and slink into whispering range. She’s ladling oatmeal into a bowl when she hears me say her name. Joi dumps the contents of her bowl back into the pot and marches off—leaving her tray behind.

“Looks like June’s not into cripples.”

I step out of the food line and give Gwendolyn a patronizing pat on the head.

“Keep nipping at me, Fang, and I’m going to bite back,” I warn her with a smile. “Now scram.”

“Is that any way to treat someone who’s just brought you a present?” Gwendolyn hands me a course schedule. “It’s from Mr. Mandel. You were still in a coma during registration, so he chose your classes for you.”

“He’s here today?” I growl. “You saw him?”

“Sure. He stopped by your room first thing this morning, but you weren’t around. So he came up to my dorm thinking you might be there.”

It’s a lie. Mandel could have found me if he’d wanted to. I doubt he’s forgotten that there’s a chip in my head.

“So!” Gwendolyn chirps, flicking the sheet of paper that’s still clenched in my hand. “Think you’ve got any classes with your old girlfriend this semester?”

Mandel told her who “June” really is. I knew he eventually would. But it’s best if I keep playing dumb. “Don’t flatter yourself, Gwendolyn. You were never my girlfriend. Just a blow-up doll with a pulse.”

I enjoy watching the smirk slip off her face, and then I skim through my schedule.

Introduction to Industrial Espionage

Waste Management:

Polluting for Profit

Hidden Treasures:

Finding and Controlling the World’s Natural Resources

Brazilian Jujitsu

Let Them Eat Cake:

Exploiting America’s Obesity Epidemic

The Ultimate Insiders:

Mandel Alumni and the SEC

I fold the list and cram it into my back pocket. The movement sends pain shooting through my shoulder and down my arm. I guess I can count on failing jujitsu. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I ask Gwendolyn. “Hasn’t Mandel given you another assignment yet?”

“Nothing has changed, Flick. You’re still my project, and Mr. Mandel told me to give you a message. He thinks you should keep your distance from Mr. Martin for a while. You got his son kicked out of school.”

My whole body hurts when I laugh.

“Oh yeah,” Gwendolyn continues, and I notice her smirk has returned. “You might not want to skip lunch today. Caleb’s planning to announce the pageant results.”

• • •

My first two classes are now little more than a blur. I’m sitting in Hidden Treasures, and Joi just waltzed through the door with her chipmunk savior. There’s an empty seat next to me—and another in the very last row. Joi never even glances in my direction. She heads to the back while the chipmunk fills the place beside me.

“Hello, Flick,” the girl says as if she’s known me for years. Even high-ranking Androids wait for the Dux to speak first. And this kid is a Ghost. A few days at the academy, and she’ll start fading away.

“Hi,” I respond, hoping the conversation will end there.

“I’m Violet,” she says.

“Yes, I know,” I tell her. I know more than her name. I already know everything about her. Joi must have adopted another urchin during her stay in the Incubation Suites. All I had to do was look at Violet’s hope-filled eyes and guile-free grin to realize that she’s not going to make it here. And I suddenly see the problem with Jude’s brilliant advice. Be who you want to be, he said. Well, the person I’d like to be would save Violet. But that would be dangerous. I could die trying—and there’s only one of me to sacrifice.

Maybe my brother the elf thinks all lives are equally valuable. But they’re not. My life wasn’t worth his. The world got a raw deal when Jude died trying to help me. If I did the same thing for Violet, how long would she last? No more than a month at the academy. Maybe a year if she made it back to the outside. But Joi might stand a chance if she’s able to escape. And her life is worth ten of mine. Which is why I always tried so hard to keep her at a distance. I didn’t want another person I loved sacrificing herself for my sake. And Joi’s just the sort who would do it. She’d take a bullet for anyone. Even for someone as doomed as Violet.

Violet gasps when our instructor arrives. I recognize her as well. The woman used to be a talking head on one of the business channels my father liked to watch. A dark beauty who unnerved me because she never seemed to blink. She walks up to the blackboard and writes Ms. Smith in letters about a foot high. I think she’s a bit worried that someone might slip up and use her real name.

“So . . . what will be the most valuable natural resource in the second quarter of the twenty-first century?” Ms. Smith asks the class.

An Android hand shoots up. “Oil.”

“Perhaps,” says Ms. Smith. “But I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Rare earth metals?” another Android offers.

“Possibly. Though you’d have to fight the Chinese for them. Any other answers? Let’s hear from some of the new students. Violet?”

“Gold,” says the girl sitting next to me.

“Always good to have around. How about you, June. What do you think?”

“Clean, fresh water.” It’s the first time I’ve heard Joi’s voice in four months. It’s still smooth and low, with no hint of anxiety.

Ms. Smith nods. “I happen to agree with that answer. But why did you choose it?”

“Because you can live without oil or earth metals, but no one can live without water.”

“But water is free, isn’t it?” Ms. Smith probes, playing devil’s advocate. “What’s going to make it so valuable?”

“It’s free here,” Joi says. “For now. While there’s still enough to go around. But in other parts of the world, it’s already disappearing, and the little that’s left tends to be polluted. When people’s children start dying of cholera and typhoid, they’ll do just about anything for clean water. I’ve seen it happen. There are companies all over the world trying to buy up freshwater supplies. And if I had the money, I’d buy one of them. In a few years, I’d be charging top dollar for something everyone in this country has been taking for granted.”

“Excellent answer,” Ms. Smith says. “I know a few Mandel alumni who’d be more than happy to back such a venture.”

“Then tell them to give me a call.” Even though she ends with a laugh, Joi’s response sounds less like a joke than a dare.

I can’t resist spinning around for a look. Because there’s no way in hell that the girl I knew on the Lower East Side could have ever come up with an answer like that. But unless Joi has an evil twin, that is Pitt Street’s former saint twirling her braid and pretending that I don’t exist.

“Brilliant, isn’t she?” I turn back to find Violet watching me.

“Yes.” No point in denying it.

“She said you’d be surprised,” Violet adds with a giggle.

• • •

Ms. Smith’s collagen-plumped lips have been moving nonstop for almost an hour, but I haven’t heard a single word of her lecture. Until now, I assumed there was only one possible explanation for Joi’s bizarre appearance at the Mandel Academy. I thought she’d been brought here against her will. I figured she was meant to be Mandel’s final test—the one that would prove whether my mutant gene had been activated.

But now I realize that there may be another possibility. Maybe Joi got a scholarship because Mandel wants to make her one of his monsters. Maybe he’s not going to give me the choice to trade my life for hers. Maybe he’s found another way to force me to watch the girl I love be destroyed.

I don’t think Joi would let him turn her into a predator. But I’ve never been very good at predicting what other people might do. The last shock I suffered came damn close to killing me. I doubt I could take another. And Mandel probably knows it.

• • •

After class, I wait outside on the balcony for Joi. She’s chatting with Ms. Smith in an obvious attempt to avoid me. But it’s lunchtime, and I’ll spend the whole goddamned hour here if need be. Then I spot Caleb boarding one of the elevators, and I remember the pageant. I start hopping down the hall. I need to be in the cafeteria when the results are revealed.

“Ah, just in time,” Caleb drones when he sees me limping toward the Wolves’ table. “I was beginning to think you had something better to do.”

“I knew he didn’t.” Gwendolyn pats the stool beside her. “That’s why I saved him a spot.”

“Thanks, Fang,” I say. No one laughs.

The friction between us must have been obvious before, but our Beauty Pageant bets made it official. Caleb is observing us with his usual bored expression. But I know he’s too smart to miss the opportunity that’s unfolding in front of him. If Gwendolyn and I take each other out, Caleb stands to inherit our title—and the lifelong rewards that come with it.