“It’s not funny, Sandy.” I could feel myself starting to blush again. “What if they had had one, and ran me? What if the Bureau of Safety and Security took me? Huh?” How could she not realize what could have been? My temper was rising.
“Oh, come on, Nina. Everyone knows that sixteens are emo wreckage. Cops hardly ever ED them, for that reason alone.” She hooked her arm in mine and I started breathing a little easier. “I was just kidding, okay? I wouldn’t have let them do anything to you. Besides, it’s not like it was B.O.S.S. They were just local police.”
We headed north on LaSalle, toward my old neighborhood. I vaguely listened as she babbled on about how cute the younger cop had been. Even though the sun was bright, my mood wasn’t. Those eighteens on the express, forays, NonCons, cops, and then setting my mind running worrying about my mom—well, it could ruin anyone’s day.
IV
“There’s Mike,” Sandy said. “Derek’s with him.”
The guys sauntered down the street toward us, Mike gesturing like crazy and Derek laughing. Just seeing them started lifting the cloud on my mood. They were such opposites. Mike was short and round. Derek was at least a foot taller and skinny as a temo shaft. I’d known them both since the first day of kindergarten; other than Sandy, they were my best friends.
Before they got to us, Sandy turned to me and asked, “What happened to Mike?”
He had the scabbed-over remains of a gash across his forehead, left eye, and down his cheek. “His dad,” I whispered. “Those government experiments sometimes make him crazy. Don’t say anything, okay?”
“Sure.”
They joined us and we headed down the street as a group. Verts blasted out from every store, hoping that in the five seconds or so it took for a person to walk by they’d hear something that would lure them inside. They were the most annoying form of advertising I could imagine. Everywhere you looked downtown, there were flashing signs, moving displays, and audio sales pitches. It made me dizzy. As always, I clicked on my PAV to listen to some music and ignored everything else.
Sandy pressed her nose to the window of every clothing shop. “Come on, Nina… just this once?” She’d been sucked in by a group of mannebots in the window at Mars 9.
Their vignette was about one girl and three guys in a school hallway. One of the guys was supposed to be the Tylo, who was the hottest teen vid star ever. The girl-bot sported a XVI tattoo and an ultrachic outfit that I was sure cost more than what Ginnie made in a month. The guy-bots were circling around her like Saturn’s moons, but she only had eyes for the Tylo.
“We can’t even afford to breathe the air in there,” I said, dragging her away from the display. “Let’s go eat.”
An hour later, we were sitting in a booth at TJ’s fiddling with the remains of lunch.
As usual, Mike didn’t have any credits, but Derek was full up. He’d been playing music on the streets in his neighborhood. I joked that people only gave him money to keep him quiet. The truth is he’s a good musician. When he covers Van Stacy’s “Girl’s Gone to the Moon,” it makes me cry.
“You gonna finish those fries?” Mike asked Sandy.
“Take ’em.” She shoved the plate catty-corner across the table. “I’m not a big fan. Besides, I’m watching my weight.” She patted a nonexistent belly bulge.
“Oh, puh-leese,” I said. “Your mom is who’s watching your weight. You look fine. You know you can eat anything and not put on a pound.”
“Mom says—”
“Your mother is totally obsessed with your food intake.” I reached over and grabbed a fry. “There is nothing wrong with the way you look, and you know it. But you can give me those, I’m not watching anything.”
“Want more?” Derek asked. “I’ll get you some.”
“Huh?” I wrinkled my brow at him. “No.” Leaning on the table, I rested my chin on my hand, staring at a small rip in the plasticene seat between him and Mike, avoiding Derek’s eyes. He’d been acting strange lately. I’d been doing my best to ignore each little incident, like him buying me Astro-Lite’s latest music chip for no reason, but they were piling up. I had to put a stop to it, but I wasn’t sure how, and it was making me kind of mad.
I loved Derek, but not as his girlfriend. I didn’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend and Derek knew that. Better than almost anyone.
He knew that I’d much rather stay fifteen. Everyone knows what’s expected of a girl when she turns sixteen. They don’t call it “sex-teen” for nothing. We’re all supposed to be so excited about sex and willing to do whatever with practically any guy who asks. But the whole sex thing was definitely not what I wanted. I’d seen more than just the Health and Sociology vids at school. I knew girls hadn’t always been treated like that, making me wish I’d been born one hundred years earlier.
The thought of Ed crossed my mind and I shoved the fries away, shutting down those images. I was so wrapped up in my own head I didn’t notice Mike sneaking his hand across the table until he’d knocked my elbow out from under me.
“What the…!” I managed to catch myself before my face smacked onto the tabletop.
“On the moon, Neenie-beanie?” He grinned at me. Sandy laughed out loud.
I glared back at both of them, ignoring my grade school nickname and trying to recover some dignity. Derek opened his mouth to say something, which I was afraid was going to be an overly concerned You okay? So I went for a quick comeback before he had the chance.
“For your information, Mikey, I was thinking about my birthday this December and how I’d just as soon not turn sixteen.”
“Not an option,” Sandy said. “I’m looking forward to it myself.” She tossed her bangs to the side and glanced around the restaurant, most likely looking to see if anybody was checking her out. Two boys were sitting across the restaurant. Sandy unzipped her sweater, exposing the slide top that barely hid anything.
I sighed. Gran was right. Sandy needed watching over.
“I can’t wait until selection day. I plan on being chosen.” She squirmed around, trying to get the guys’ attention. “I wonder if the FeLS rep will be cute.”
“I don’t think that matters. It’s probably the only time you’ll see him.” Twice a year, a man from the Governing Council’s Liaison Department came to select sixteen-year-old girls for training as Female Liaison Specialists. All tier-one and -two girls—the lowest of the low—were required to fill out applications when they turned fifteen. Upper-tier girls never went into FeLS. It wasn’t even an option for them. It was the only option for us low-tiers: the government had set up the program so that only the bottom two tiers were eligible.
On selection day, the FeLS rep—everyone called him the Chooser—interviewed everyone and made his picks. The GC sent the girls who were chosen to an education center on one of the space stations where they were trained for diplomatic service.
“It better not be your mom’s boyfriend.” Sandy wrinkled her nose. “He’s gross.”
“Yeah.” No way could I argue with that. “You don’t really want to go into FeLS, do you?” I was 99 percent sure I didn’t want to. Ginnie certainly made her opinion on the matter clear. I’d filled out my application, but only because it was mandatory. The idea of moving up in the world was certainly attractive, but the program didn’t sound all that great. The worst part of it was you couldn’t have any contact with your family for the entire two years you were in the program.
“Yes,” she answered, but she wasn’t paying attention to me. One of the guys had noticed her. “It’s the only way for girls like us to get into the upper tiers.”