Middle Ground (8 page)

***

It was after three in the morning when Matt and Jeremy dropped us off at Pat and Noah’s apartment. When we got inside, Justin checked the rooms, and everyone was still out.

“The party couldn’t have been that bad,” he noted. I found some blankets and sleeping bags in the hall closet and we spread them out on the floor in Noah’s studio. The room smelled like electronic equipment.

Justin threw down some couch cushions for pillows.

“This is why I need my own apartment,” he said as we looked at our makeshift bed. He tugged his coat off and put it over a speaker and dove down on top of the pillows. He flipped over and sprawled out on the floor and then placed his hands behind his head and looked up at me.

“I’m not tired,” I said. “It’s hard to get tired around you.”

“Even after tonight?” he asked.

I shook my head. “There’s always too many firsts. My first virtual club, my first attempt to shut it down, my first car accident, my first riverside restaurant. You’re always there for my firsts,” I said. “You’re like the tour guide of my life.”

He smiled. “It’s a fun job.”

I looked down at the hem of my short red dress. “I didn’t bring pajamas,” I said, and I could feel the blush warming my face.

“That dress wouldn’t be very comfortable to sleep in,” he pointed out, and he kicked off his shoes, flinging them to the side.

“You’re right,” I agreed. It was tight but stretchy with spandex and I easily pulled it over my head, which left me in just my heels and underwear.

“Off,” I said, and the lights snapped off. I slid off one shoe.

“On,” Justin said, and the circular overhead light snapped on again to reveal me. He smiled.

“Off,” I argued. This went on for a while, the light snapping on and off, until we both were laughing. Until he pulled me down on the soft blankets with him. We agreed to dim the lights.

***

The next morning I sprinted into my apartment; I could smell coffee brewing so I knew Joe was up. I turned the corner into the kitchen, which wasn’t much bigger than a storage closet, and Joe stood next to the counter, pouring a cup of coffee.

For a second I had a flash of my perfect life: Justin living in Los Angeles. Finishing DS and finally being free from my probation, my parents’ control, and my past. Meeting my brother for coffee. Clubbing with Clare and hanging out at Noah’s concerts. Trying to bring back face-to-face classes and jobs. For the first time ever, everything was falling into place, and my life was becoming a clear, solid picture that was focused and centered and colorful.

“Nice timing,” Joe said, and started pouring a second mug.

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry.” I had just enough time to shower and change before I met Justin downtown. He was leaving for San Diego tonight and I was determined to spend every possible second with him. We had a list of apartments to tour before he left.

“Give me five minutes,” he said, and offered me the mug. “I want to talk to you.” I glanced at the clock on the refrigerator wall screen and back at Joe.

“Okay, three minutes,” I offered. I took the coffee and slid onto a stool next to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. It was so rare we spent any one-on-one time together, I didn’t want to pass it up.

Joe studied the wrinkled T-shirt and shorts that Justin had loaned me and the plastic bag I was holding, which had my dress and shoes inside. “Where have you been?” he asked, and glanced at the tennis shoes that I’d borrowed from Clare’s suitcase.

I considered skirting around the truth but reminded myself that Joe wasn’t my dad. I took a chance.

“Justin’s in town,” I said, and felt a girlish grin brush my face.

His eyebrows rose. “That’s who you were with last night? You told me you were going out with Clare.”

I sighed and set the bag on the floor near my feet. Bringing up Justin’s name around Joe usually sparked a heated debate. I couldn’t blame Joe for resenting him—it was true that he encouraged my rebellious side. But that side was dormant only because Dad had smothered me with regulations for so long. I was just living in a shadow. It was interesting that two such vastly different men had had the greatest impact on my life.

“He met up with us,” I said, like it wasn’t a big deal.

Joe sat down on a stool next to me. “You know something, Maddie? I really don’t think Justin’s your type.”

I fought a groan and took a sip of coffee. Do older brothers feel it’s their birthright to screen who their younger sisters date? “You don’t know my type,” I assured him.

“I have some friends who are single, if you’re looking for a boyfriend.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of anyone replacing Justin.

“Great,” I said. “I’d love it if you’d pimp me out to your friends. Are you going to introduce me as your juvenile-delinquent little sister?” I knew I was being a brat but I was tired of my family condemning me for dating the most amazing person I’d ever met.

“I will if you act like one,” he said, and his face was serious. “What about your friend Pat?”

“Pat?”

“He’s into you. He’s
unplugged,
as you like to refer to it. And he isn’t running from the cops on a daily basis.”

“That’s no fun,” I said, and Joe frowned. “He’s Justin’s cousin,” I pointed out. “And he knows we’re just friends.”

Joe shook his head. “Guys don’t want girls as friends,” he told me. “If he’s hanging out with you, it’s because he thinks he has a chance.”

“Whatever,” I said, and took another sip. I told my brother it was none of his business who I dated. I never picked on the girls he liked. “Not that I care, but why don’t you think Justin’s my type?”

“Other than the fact he’s leading a revolt against our father?” Joe asked. He scrunched up his face. “I don’t know. He’s kind of a hippie.”

I set down my cup and stared at him. “People still use that term?” I asked, and Joe shrugged. “He is not a hippie. He’s like James Bond in blue jeans,” I said with a smile.

“Well, when your tree-hugging Bond boy leaves and goes running around trying to save the world, what are you going to do?”

“Probably help him,” I said.

“So you’ve decided to join his side?”

“I’m leaning that way. Why fight gravity?”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t learn anything from your mistakes, do you?”

“Mistakes are simply a matter of opinion,” I said. “Joe, I’ve had full-time babysitters my entire life. I could really use a break. I know it’s well intended and I appreciate you care, but there’s a fine line between caring and controlling. And I’m very sensitive when someone’s trying to breach that line.”

Joe stared at me like he didn’t recognize me. “Who are you and what did you do with my baby sister?”

I took another sip of coffee and gave him a proud smile. “I grew up, Joe. It’s finally me.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He rubbed his finger thoughtfully along the rim of his white mug.

“Paul called me last night,” he said. “He saw footage that people took of you at the dance club. He was wondering why you weren’t keeping a low profile since you’re supposed to be in the LADC.”

“Paul Thompson?” I asked, my throat already tight. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth. That you were still hanging out with DS dropouts.”

I stared at the ceiling. “Why would you tell him that, Joe?”

“He’s a good friend. The Thompsons are like family to us.”

“Paul Thompson wants to see me burned at the stake. His dad’s my probation officer. What were you thinking? You should have just dropped me off at the LADC.”

“What were
you
thinking?” he shot back. “Paul told me you helped out with an interception. And you crashed a cop car? This isn’t funny anymore, Maddie. This is serious. You could have killed someone.”

“That’s what airbags are for. They’re designed to withstand impacts at over sixty miles an hour.”

“What are you, some secret agent all of a sudden? One of the cops is in the hospital with broken ribs and a punctured lung. How do you feel about being responsible for that?”

I looked down at my lap and felt terrible. “I’m sorry. We didn’t plan the interception; it just happened. That kid stopped our shuttle and we were only trying to help.”

“You help the wrong people,” Joe insisted. “Don’t you see that? Maybe you shouldn’t be hanging around Justin anymore. The guy’s bringing you down.” He looked away from me and sighed. “I did some research and the LADC doesn’t sound that bad. It’s a rehabilitation clinic. It might really help you.”

I stood up and tried to laugh but it got caught in my throat. It sounded like a whimper. “I’m getting out of here. Nice talk. Now I get to go into hiding again.”

We were interrupted by a knock at the front door. I looked at Joe with suspicion, but he refused to meet my eyes. No one ever knocked on our door. For a second I foolishly thought it was Justin, but he knew better than to come up here; he knew where he wasn’t welcome.

“What’s going on, Joe?”

“You should get the door,” he told me. “It’s for you.”

The muscles tightened around my lips. “Open,” I told the sensor, and the door unlocked.

Two tall uniformed figures walked in. My first instinct was to run but my feet were locked in place. Damon and Paul blocked the only exit in the apartment. They stared at me and their faces held identical cocky grins.

“We meet again,” Damon said.

“It’s been a while,” Paul added.

I glared at Joe. “You knew they were coming all along?”

“Sorry, Maddie,” Joe said. “I just care about you. I don’t want to see you throw your life away because you’re too naive to know what you’re doing.”

I slumped down onto the stool and pressed my face into my hands. I wondered if there was a website where you could buy and trade brothers because my current one sucked. Disownyourfamily.com. I’d have to look into it.

“It was a cute prank,” Paul said.

I looked up at him and rolled my eyes.

“Is this your new goal?” he asked. “To free the world one digital dance club at a time?” He laughed at his own joke.

“How thoughtful of you to come all the way down here to be my personal escort,” I said.

He asked for my hands; I grudgingly raised my arms and he slapped metal handcuffs around my wrists. “My dad and I made a special trip down here to keep your arrest private. That way no one could intercept you this time. Nobody knows about this. We were open to working with you and your father until you almost killed a cop last night.”

I stood up and Damon grabbed my biceps tightly with his hand. “You’re about a month late for your registration at the LADC.”

I mumbled that I preferred to be fashionably late wherever I went. I tried to play confident even though my hands were shaking. Damon’s eyes pierced mine. His patience was gone.

“You don’t speak unless I give you the privilege. You understand me, young lady?”

He squeezed my arm so tight I flinched and forced myself to nod. If there were two words together that made my skin crawl, they were
young lady.
Only adults used that expression and it was just to be condescending.

“Let’s try this again,” Damon said.

I glared at Joe before they hauled me out the front door. I wondered if it was a curse in our family to let one another down. I could feel tears brimming behind my eyes but I refused to let these men see me buckle.

I concentrated on one image. One face. I held that picture in my mind and it reminded me who was on my side. It gave me the courage to hold my head high as they dragged me down the empty hall to the elevator.

I looked out the tinted car window and watched the scenery pass but I couldn’t make out a single detail in the landscape. It was too hard to focus when my thoughts were spinning. The confined space in the car made it an effort to breathe. Panic always had this effect on me.

Just when I thought my life was falling into place, it was all pulled out from under me, like somebody yanking a tablecloth from beneath perfectly set dishes, toppling everything and leaving a disarray of chipped plates and broken glass.

The sound of voices raging in my head was the worst. Regret screamed at me for screwing up.
Why is it my destiny to be a perpetual screwup? Why can’t I be a nice, easy, simple, obedient teenager who is content to wake up and go to school every day? Why can’t I be satisfied with good grades and a clean bedroom and my own flipscreen and wall screen and social dates and movie nights and online friends? Why can’t I be content with a structured, predictable life? Why do I have to take the risks? Why do I have to mess everything up that is neat and easy and laid out for me? There are so many clean paths trimmed and paved and I always have to run through the middle, where there is no path; there are vines and brambles and rocks and holes and I fall down and scrape the hell out of my life. For what? Kicks?

I watched my world narrow in on all sides until it became so small I was trapped. I knew no one was coming for me this time. My arrest wouldn’t be in the police listings for Scott to hack into.

I closed my eyes and imagined Justin waiting for me downtown. He had an even sharper intuition than I did. Maybe he would sense something was wrong. But by the time he figured it out, it would be too late. And I knew one thing: no one had ever escaped from a DC. No one had ever broken in. My future was officially carved in stone. That was the most unsettling idea of all.

Skyscrapers gave way to a warehouse district, and the car slowed down in front of an old abandoned shipping yard. A railroad track used to run through the area, but it was bent and uprooted in the Big Quake. Pieces of iron twisted and poked out of the ground like a giant fossilized reptile. Damon pulled the car up to the entrance of the detention center. He opened the back door and grabbed my arm to lift me out. I looked up and down the sidewalk, searching the area for anywhere I could run, just as Damon attached a second handcuff to connect his wrist to mine.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

I stared around at my new existence. A white sign read
LADC
in black letters and evoked all the warmth of a snarl. A tall electric fence encircled the deserted lot, and a low hum emitted from the charged lines. Behind the fence stood two buildings at opposite ends of an open, dusty lot. The one in the far corner was a small, single-story office building. Looming across from it was a modest sky-rise, about ten stories high. There were no windows, and I assumed, judging from the grainy, beige exterior, that it was made out of suber, like all of the modern skyscrapers built after the Big Quake.