“Are you sure you’re okay?” I’d never seen Gran so pale. “Maybe you should lie down? Or I could call the clinic doc downstairs.” That was one thing about living in a building full of retirees: there was an on-site medical clinic, open twenty-four hours, every day.
She shook her head. “It’s the shock of getting that.” She jabbed a finger at the paper. “Give me a moment, I’ll be right as rain.”
I poured a glass of water and gave it to Gran. Her hand trembled as she took a sip.
“Gran, I should show this to Mr. Jenkins.” I picked up the document. “Wei said he would help. I’m going to digi it with my PAV and send it over now. She can give it to her dad right away.”
Gran sighed. “They’ve done so much for us already. But, yes. I suppose we’ll have to ask for their help again. If only your grandfather…” Her voice trailed off.
“What about me?” Dee piped up. “What can I do? This is all about me, but I feel so”—she threw up her hands—“helpless.”
I wondered if Gran was as surprised as I was at how grown up Dee sounded, not at all like a little kid. Of course, she was nearly twelve. She’d be a preteen in less than a month. That hardly seemed possible, my little sister, a Pre. As that, surely the authorities would let her have some kind of say in all this. A faint voice in my head, sounding a lot like my mom, informed me, They’ll do what they want—there’s something more behind this, Nina. Seek the truth.
“I can use help cleaning up this kitchen,” Gran said. “No sense in me moping around. Nothing to be done right now anyway. Let’s get cracking.” Belying her words, Gran stayed seated.
Dee, however, began to bustle around. “I’ll start dinner. What shall we have?”
While the two of them formulated the menu, I slipped out of the room with the writ. I’d just sent it to Wei when my PAV beeped.
“Can you come to our place?” Sal asked. “I’ll be there, waiting.”
I raced down the hall, pulling on my coat, when I noticed Pops, still ranting to his friends. The scrambler’s light shone green. Kneeling beside him, I caught his attention. “Pops. Don’t forget what Gran said. Stop talking when the light blinks and the beeping starts. Okay?”
He stuck his hand over his PAV receiver. “I’ve been using this thing since before you were born, Little Bit. I’d never forget something that important. See? I’ve got it right in front of my eyes.” He made a face at the scrambler.
“Gran and Dee are in the kitchen. I’ll be back soon. I love you!” I brushed a kiss across his forehead, then swung past the kitchen, calling out, “I’m going out, I won’t be long.”
“Come back by dinnertime,” Dee replied. “I’m cooking.”
When I got to the street, the number 33 had just pulled away. I raced alongside, banging on the door. Thankfully, the driver had a heart and let me board. My stomach was flip-flopping like a fish out of water. I couldn’t wait to see Sal. I had to tell him about the writ, and I wanted to find out what he’d been doing with Paulette again. Except I had to remind myself to not be jealous. Curious, is all.
I leaped off at the stop in the middle of Lincoln Park, taking all four steps at once. Before my feet hit the ground, I was sprinting in the direction of my mountain, the place where my mom and dad would meet after he’d faked his death. The place where I first met Sal. It was a dead zone. The perfect place for two people in love to meet.
My breath caught when I spied him. He was dressed homeless, like when we’d first met. Over the past couple of weeks I’d come to know what that meant: NonCon business. No one looked at the homeless, and so it was the perfect disguise for NonCons doing saboteur work, like Sal. My heart sank. This meant he’d be gone again. Sometimes it was just a day; sometimes he’d be gone nearly a week. Before I had the chance to wallow, he drew me down the far side of the mound, out of view of the street and prying eyes.
“Nina, I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t a good time to leave. Wei told me CPS is trying to take Dee.” His fingers laced between mine. “She said her dad is going to help, so you’ll be in good hands.”
His eyes searched mine, waiting for a response. Maybe he expected me to be mad that he was going again, but I wasn’t. I was sad. I felt like I hardly saw him anymore. I knew his work was important, but so was I.
And as much as I wanted to talk to him, I wanted to kiss him, too. Lots of kisses. Enough kisses to make me forget that my life was, once again, falling apart. I reached for him and pulled him to me.
After several minutes of pure bliss, I backed off. “I’m going to miss you. I know Wei’s dad will do what he can for us with Dee, but what if it isn’t enough? I feel like I should do something myself to stop the writ. I’m Dee’s closest relative. If I quit school and become emancipated, they won’t be able to take her from me.”
“Nina, Mr. Jenkins will figure out something. You can’t quit school. You’re a good enough artist to get a scholarship and go on to design school. That will boost you up at least three tiers. You’ll be—” He stopped abruptly and reached over to push my hair out of my eyes.
“Be what?” I blocked his hand midswipe. “Up to your tier?” I shot him a questioning look. “Are you ashamed of me because I’m low tier?”
“Of course not.” He leaned in to kiss me, but I dodged left to avoid it.
“You’ve thought about it. About me being lower than you.” My temper was rising. “Is that how come you’ve been hanging out with Paulette? She’s closer to your tier, more acceptable than I am?”
“Stop being ridiculous. This has nothing to do with what tier you are. Nina. Has that ever made a difference to me?”
“I don’t know. Has it?” I waited, watched, as he collected his words, measuring what to say next.
“Tiers may mean something to you, but they don’t mean crap to me. Do you think I do this”—he raked his hand up and down his homeless garb—“because I give a shit about what tier someone is? The amount of credits someone has doesn’t make her somebody worthwhile. It’s what’s in the person, not what’s in her account.”
I wanted to believe him. He and Wei and their friends had never treated me differently because of tiers. It may not have meant anything to them, but that didn’t mean it didn’t mean anything to me. They could ignore tiers because they were upper. I wasn’t. If I managed to get a scholarship, on top of having my Creative designation, I could work my way out of my lower-tier status. Then I’d be closer to equal… ugh. I shook my head, trying to clear away my negative train of thought. Hadn’t anything Ginnie taught me sunk in? She had always tried to impart to Dee and me that everyone was equal. That the tiers were imposed.
Maybe Sal was right. This was my problem, not his. And whoever’s problem it was, it was taking precious time away from the two of us.
“I know you’re—” My PAV beeped. “Hang on, it’s Dee.” I clicked it on. “What? No! I’ll be right there. Dee, I’ll be right there.”
VI
Halfway home I was lucky enough to snag a trans and got there faster than I’d thought possible. I’d left Sal in his homeless clothes standing by our mountain. He couldn’t follow me, not dressed like that.
Storming out of the elport, I raced into the apartment. Gran was on the couch, her arm around Dee, the two of them wet-faced and sniffling. Harriet was next to Gran, murmuring sympathy. The apartment had been torn apart, things everywhere, but one thing was obviously missing.