Genesis Girl (24 page)

“Fatima?” Ethan asks, as he steps out of the elevator.

I don’t give Ethan a chance to realize his mistake. I push him back inside the elevator and press the button for the door to close. By now Ethan can see my slim figure and realize there’s no way I’m Fatima.

“Wrong guess,” I say. I pull off my helmet, and my brown hair tumbles down.

Ethan’s jaw drops. “Blanca,” he finally says, punching the button for his own private suite. “It’s really you.” Then he pulls me toward him in a crushing hug, the type of embrace that pushes the borders of friendship to the very limit. I peel myself away. I don’t want Ethan to get the wrong idea about why I’ve come.

When the elevator doors open, Ethan leads me into his apartment. It’s pristine white, from the thick shag carpet to the modular furniture with chrome finishes. Ethan flicks his hand and the lights turn on, bathing the whole apartment in bright neon. Then he tries again, and the lights dim, except for one spot by a couch overlooking the thirtieth-story view.

“Nice place.” I follow Ethan over to the enormous couch. The furniture fits him, like his fake glasses, suspenders, and new ability to go online.

Now that I’m in his apartment, I know I made the right decision coming to Ethan for help.
You can always trust a Vestal
. Graduation was six months ago, but it’s like no time has passed between us at all. Ethan won’t betray me. He won’t try to trick me either.

“Why’d you think I was Fatima?” I ask.

“Because she’s missing. It’s all over the Net.”

“Fatima
and
Beau are missing.”

“What?” Ethan asks. “Beau’s missing too?”

“Yes,” I answer. “Headmaster Russell told me. Didn’t you see our conversation on
Veritas Rex
?”

“No. There’s nothing about you up there. But there’re lots of pictures of you on
The Lighthouse
. That’s how I knew somebody was coming.” Ethan clicks on his hand and a tiny video of me on my motorcycle shoots out of his palm screen. “Nobody can tell it was you, though. Even I wasn’t sure.”

On the Net again! This situation was becoming more dangerous by the minute.

“Ethan.” My tone is urgent. “We need a plan. How can we help Fatima? How can we find Beau?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan scratches his head. “I’ve been searching for Fatima all day, but there’s no trace of her online. Only some junk her fashion house puts up.” He flicks his fingers, and pictures of Fatima wearing diamonds and white lace pop up.

I glue my eyes to the screen. “I want to see all of it.”

“Really?” Ethan asks, surprised. He shakes his hand so that the screen appears larger.

I scoot closer. Whenever Cal or Seth showed me something online, I felt hesitant, afraid to really see. But with Ethan, it’s okay to be curious. He’ll let me explore as much as I want, and he won’t judge me either.

“Show me more,” I whisper.

“I’d love to show you more,” Ethan murmurs. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time.” He grabs a blanket from the corner of the couch and pulls it over our laps.

We’re snuggled there, the two of us, and I feel warm and safe. But I know what I’m about to do is dirty.

With his free hand, Ethan scrolls through the screen, and I finally see what
The Lighthouse
is all about.

Fatima’s disappearance is a top story, but there’s nothing about Fatima being pregnant. Most of the site is dedicated to Vestal history. Barbelo’s early writings are there, plus news feeds going back five decades. There are property records from Tabula Rasa and tax records from every Harvest. It’s like somebody has been researching us forever.

“They know about the Archives,” says Ethan, pulling up the video. “A former senator spilled everything. But nobody believes him! Other bloggers are saying
The Lighthouse
is making things up.”

“Why don’t they believe the senator?”

“Because politicians are coming forward and icing him out, saying he’s crazy.” Ethan answers. He points to the headlines, so I can see the names.

“But those are all people who use the Archives too!” I remember a lot of them. Senior year at Tabula Rasa is spent on Archive duty, at least part of the time.

“That’s not the worst part” Ethan crinkles his eyebrows and he pulls up another page. “Amy’s come forward with a tell-all.”

“Amy?” I don’t bother to pretend. Ethan knows about how Amy and I used to be best friends. So when I see her face on the screen, I don’t try to hide it. I let my anger show through.

“She’s told all about us, Blanca, including Headmaster Russell and his logical consequences.”

But I don’t need Ethan to explain. I can read the story for myself right there.
former vestal claims headmaster whipped students on a regular basis
.

“Amy left when she was ten.” I curl my fist so tight the nails pierce skin. “How much can she know?”

“Enough that her parents have asked for police protection. They’re afraid she’ll go missing too.”

“I don’t understand. How long has this website been running?”

“It’s new.” Ethan scrolls through more pages. “It started about a month or two after our graduation. It’s giving
Veritas Rex
some competition.”

Seth. The name explodes in my brain, but I don’t dare to speak the word aloud. “Show me
Veritas Rex
.”

“That’s where things get interesting.” Ethan flicks his hand. Seth’s lion-headed cobra bursts onto the screen. But there’s nothing about my conversation with Headmaster Russell from today.

That Virus tricked me! He didn’t upload me to
Veritas Rex
after all. But what’s up there instead is worse.

It’s a grainy, black-and-white picture from an old-fashioned newspaper. There’s a little girl from almost fifty years ago. She’s got a heart-shaped face.

“It’s Ms. Lydia!” I reach out to touch the picture. My hand falls through the virtual screen, distorting the image.

“She was one of the original Vestals,” Ethan says. “She’s ancient.”

“That’s not possible—” I start to say, but then I stop myself. Sometimes I’ve thought Ms. Lydia was forty, or perhaps older than Cal. At other times she seemed much younger, like she was in her thirties. I really have no idea how old she is. But then I think harder. Her contract was for twenty-five years, and she was harvested at eighteen. That means Ms. Lydia is at least forty-three.

“Do you realize what this means?” Ethan takes off his fake eyeglasses.

“No,” I whisper, confused.

“It means Ms. Lydia knows Barbelo!”

“But how did Seth—I mean, how did
Veritas Rex
find that out?”

“Who’s Seth?” asks Ethan.

“Nobody important.” I examine my cuff. “Just my purchaser’s son.”

“Oh,” says Ethan. He puts his glasses back on.

That’s when I get it, clear as day. Headmaster Russell’s right, like always. Ms. Lydia is in danger. She’s been in danger all along. And it’s my fault!

Seth’s been pumping me for information about the Vestals so he could plaster it all over the Internet! Was Cal in on this too?

It wouldn’t be the first time I was bait.

“Do you understand now?” Ethan asks me. “We’ve been lied to our whole lives.”

“What do you mean?” I shiver underneath the blanket.

“The Internet isn’t evil. It doesn’t rip relationships apart.” Ethan pages back over to the picture of Amy. “Look. With one click, you could reconnect with your old friend.”

Amy’s blue eyes gaze at me with their familiar warmth. I blink and look away. “But the Internet is addicting. It tears users apart from the people they love.”

“It doesn’t have to.” Ethan pulls up one more shimmering image of Amy. This one shows her surrounded by her mom, dad, and a panting golden retriever. “Finger-chips make things better if we don’t become obsessed. That’s what they should have taught us in school.”

McNeal Manor has never looked more imposing. It’s backlit by moonlight and looms in front of me, like the whole mansion anticipates my arrival. But there’s only one person I want to see, and Ms. Lydia isn’t home.

Cal, however, is.

“Blanca,” he says to me as soon as I enter the foyer, like he’s been waiting for me too. “Where were you?”

“At Ethan’s.” I set down my helmet. “Didn’t you get my note?”

“A note?”

“Under your shaving kit?” I prompt.

“No. There wasn’t a note.” Then Cal gasps. “Unless … Let’s check again. I’m positive there was nothing.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me along.

I’ve never seen Cal like this before, so brusque and demanding. It’s making me fearful as I follow him up the stairs and through the halls in silence, trying to figure out what’s going on. Cal doesn’t say anything either, not until the metal door of his room shuts behind us.

It’s dark and quiet, like we’ve happened upon the sleeping stillness of the entire house. Cal turns to me in the half-light and says harshly, “Headmaster Russell is never to come here again. Do you understand me, Blanca? Don’t trust Headmaster Russell!
He’s dangerous!
”

“Yes, Cal.” I stop myself before “of course.” But how did Cal know about Headmaster Russell coming today? Seth didn’t post the video, after all.

Cal pulls me into the bathroom. He picks up his shaving kit and shakes it out in front of me. “Do you see?” he asks me. “Nothing!”

I don’t know what Cal wants. “I swear,” I say. “I left a note folded up in a square and put it right there.”

Cal looks at me hard. At first I think he’s examining me, trying to discern if I’m lying or not. But then I realize he needs me to listen.

“Lydia must have gotten to your note first.”

“I don’t understand.” I jerk back. “Ms. Lydia wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t read something that was private.”

“Not like some people,” says a voice from the doorway. Ms. Lydia steps forward, emerging from the shadows.

She’s wearing color.

And she’s holding a gun.

“You thought you could trick me, Calum? You thought you could share our private conversations with that Virus son of yours? Well, the joke’s on you.” Ms. Lydia aims her weapon straight at Cal, like she knows what she’s doing. Then she throws some rope to me. “Tie him up, Blanca.”

Is this a trick? Ms. Lydia knows I can’t do that to my purchaser! I take orders from Cal, not her.

“Well?” Ms. Lydia snaps her fingers. “What are you waiting for?”

But I don’t move.

Cal looks scared. His sun-worn face grows old in the bathroom light. But he also looks brave. “Blanca.” His voice is steady. “Remember your promise. Keep yourself safe.”

Tears roll down my cheeks. I’m so confused I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I take the rope to where Cal stands, and he puts his hands behind him. I tie up his wrists, like Headmaster Russell used to do to us during Discipline Hour.

Then, before I lash the final knot, I feel Cal grab my fingertips. He slips something into my hand that Ms. Lydia can’t see.

It’s his chip-watch.

I tuck it up my sleeve just in time.

Ms. Lydia’s coming toward him, about to knock Cal out cold with her platinum cuff. But right before she does, Cal manages to speak to me, one last time. His brown eyes have never appeared so kind. “Blanca, remember you are loved.”

“Good girl, Blanca,” Lydia says to me across Cal’s slumped-over body. “Now I need to tell you something.”

“What?” There’s nothing Lydia can say that will make me listen, not after what just happened. She doesn’t deserve my respect.

Lydia holsters her gun underneath her jacket. From an inside pocket, she pulls out a picture, folded in two. “This is what you need to know.” She hands the picture to me.

I don’t want to take the photograph, but I do. When I open it, I see it’s the same picture I saw on
Veritas Rex
, only this picture is in color.

And Lydia’s version is complete.

There before me is her childhood visage, her face a perfect little heart. Standing next to her is a young man, maybe in his thirties. He’s got long brown hair and glasses.

“That’s Barbelo,” Lydia says. “He wants to meet you.”