Still Point (28 page)

Scott and Molly caught up to us.

“We need to do something fast. Half the rioters are leaving,” Scott said.

“You can't really blame them,” Clare pointed out. “Why fight a vote we've already lost?”

“Because we haven't lost,” I said. “That message was propaganda. And standing around looking pissed isn't going to inspire anybody.”

“Get up there,” Clare told me, and pointed at the stage. “These people need to hear something positive right now. There's no morale.”

“Me?” I said. “Kevin Freeman's daughter? I'll just give them one more reason to hurl a rock at the courthouse.”

“Justin, come on,” Molly urged. “You should get up there. We could use a shot of hope right now.”

“This isn't about me,” he said, and I understood what he meant. Justin didn't want to take up the spotlight. He wanted to pass it around.

“But you're so opinionated,” I said, and he smiled. “You're leading this riot whether you want to admit it or not. Just talk like you always talk. Believe me, you'll be inspiring. You're the best teacher I know.”

Justin's eyes took a lap around the disgruntled crowd, and he knew he owed it to them to swing their mood.

He picked his way through the protesters to get to the stage. Even though he was a leader, he still preferred to be invisible and it wasn't because he was shy or timid or insecure. He was the opposite of all of those things. He didn't want to stand out because, in his mind, he didn't. He didn't want to appear larger than life. He wanted to be the same as everyone at ground level.

He climbed up two sound boxes used for stairs. He wasn't your typical hero. He wore jeans and black soccer shoes. His black hooded sweatshirt was unzipped to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. But even from a hundred feet away you could see a calm confidence in his eyes, this peaceful soldier. It made everyone turn and look, and soon people were saying his name and whistling. Hands started to clap, and the spirit spread until the crowd was on its feet.

Justin were as calm as if he was standing in front of a couple of close friends in an intimate room. But maybe this was intimate to him. Maybe that's how he saw life, how he maximized it. He let it all be intimate and personal and real, the small moments as well as the enormous ones.

He looked out at the audience before he spoke. It was his way of reaching down and shaking everyone's hand.

“Here's the thing,” Justin said into the microphone, and the crowd responded with such a loud cheer, even he looked stunned. The ground shook with drums beating and my face cracked into a smile. Instantly the energy was back. You could feel it. You could climb on it.

“Everybody says you should embrace technology,” Justin said. “But I don't think that's true anymore. I think we need to be more careful about what we embrace. I think instead of jumping on every new technology that comes our way, we should take some time to reflect on how it will affect our lives. Isn't the point of technology to better our lives? Well, has it come to a point where it's taken over our lives? Where it's depleting our lives? Those little computers we hold—do we control them, or do they control us?”

Thousands of eyes were still. Bodies stood motionless. People listened to Justin like they were starving and he was serving them food.

“I don't want to be controlled, especially by something as stupid as a little machine. I'd like to think there's more to life than what goes on on that screen. Most kids fight to change their parents' beliefs because they're too old-fashioned or prosaic. But I'm fighting to bring back my parents' beliefs. Because I think we're getting it all wrong.”

The crowd cheered and screamed, and Justin waited for them to calm down.

“Life is about mindfulness. It's about being in the moment, being aware. And ever since I was little, I was confused about living through a computer so much of the time. I never felt like I was in the moment. I was elsewhere. I was missing the moment. That has become a problem. We are always elsewhere. Our minds are never in this moment, in this now. I guess I'm becoming more acutely aware of the nows, these moments we're missing because we are always distracted. Can we somehow plug back in to the now?” he asked the crowd.

I watched Justin high on the stage, towering over everyone in the crowd. Thousands of people were crammed around me, but they all seemed to fade away. Even Justin's voice became a murmur. The past year rushed back to me in fragmented memories. Old conversations resurfaced like photographs. They were as clear as if Justin were whispering them now.

You can trust me. I'll always be honest with you. But it's really hard for me to be there for people. It's just the way my life works. The sooner you understand that about me, the better.

I felt myself caught in a still point. Thoughts spun like a funnel cloud, and I found myself in the middle of it all. And then, just as quickly as the chaotic memories spun, they blew away. My head was clear.

I looked up at Justin, and even though we were standing in the same place, we were in completely different worlds. People don't change. We only convince ourselves they change. We deny what we can't accept. We are only as smart as we are willing to see the truth.

“So, why drop out of digital school?” Justin's voice echoed through the park and snapped my attention back. “It will help our society get unplugged. We can start by spending ten minutes longer, every day, turning off our screens. Get to know your friends, your kids, your neighbors, your parents. Or just turn everything off and breathe. The digital world will always be there. These summer days, these hot summer nights, quality time we can spend with people we love—these are the moments we shouldn't let pass us by. These are the moments we can never get back.”

“So try it,” he said. “And you won't be alone. I'm out here waiting to meet you.” He smiled his daring, contagious smile, and the crowd cheered.

I looked up at the scroll over the stage. People were starting to opt out of digital school by the hundreds.

“I think just about every female in DS dropped out,” Clare whispered to me. I smiled. It was definitely motivation.

The protest quieted down that night. People's egos were still bruised. I crawled into Justin's tent to find him lying down, but with his eyes open. His hands rested over his chest, and his fingers were laced together.

He was breathing long, deep breaths. I lay down next to him and looked up at the perfect seams of the nylon roof joining in the center. I was jealous that something could be so symmetrical.

I hated the questions I was thinking. Is this worth it? Is anything worth it? Is the fight worth it? Are the consequences worth it? When it comes down to decisions, when is it worth it?

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

Justin blinked. “I'm just trying to stay calm.” He swallowed and took another deep breath. I looked at his body, stretched out and relaxed.

“You're not calm?”

“It's a fight sometimes,” he said. “I really wanted to throw something today. I wanted to charge those cops.”

I rolled over and looked at him. “Why didn't you?”

“There's no point. It's what they want. They want a reason to arrest all of us.”

“So your strategy is . . . ?”

“Don't rise to the bait,” he said. “Sometimes the strongest impression you can make is not to strike back. You beat them in their own game.”

“It's okay to be angry, you know. Anger can be righteous.”

He smiled. “Righteous?”

“Sometimes anger can be a wake-up call. It can get you moving.”

“I don't want it to turn that way. It won't do any good here, not with all these people.”

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” I asked.

“A little,” he admitted. “I've accepted what the outcome will be. I'm just worried how all the people will react when we lose the vote.”

“Have you ever considered that we still have a chance?”

“No,” he said, and looked at me. “This is all a game, Maddie. We're building a team. That's what we're doing here. You can't do anything without support. We're showing up tomorrow to recruit a bigger team; that's how you eventually win the game.”

I was quiet for a few seconds.

“I guess I still never considered losing an option.”

Justin smiled. “It would take a miracle. And I don't believe in miracles.”

That surprised me. I looked into his clear brown eyes. “Really?” I asked.

“Asking for a miracle is sitting around wanting something to happen. It isn't acting on it.”

I laughed at the ceiling. I was so exhausted I could barely hold my eyes open. “You don't think we've worked hard enough?”

Justin opened his hands. “I think we're playing chess. And we're still waiting for that one move that's going to change the playing field. It hasn't happened yet. It's not impossible, but the odds definitely aren't looking good.”

“Justin,” a voice interrupted. We looked up, and a boy was leaning in the tent doorway.

“Yeah, Kurt?”

“The police are passing out fines to everyone. For camping on government property.”

“Ignore them,” he said. “They're just trying to scare us away. We're not on government property.”

“The fines are five thousand dollars. People are freaking out.”

Justin got to his feet. “Let's collect all the fines. I'll deal with them.” He followed Kurt out of the tent.

 

I waited for Justin, dozing off and on, but I could hear talking and laughter and music outside. I climbed out of the tent. The air smelled like wood campfires, and it reminded me of Eden. There was a scattering of fires burning in old grill pots around the park. The night air was cold, and I wrapped my hands around my shoulders, warming them up. I stopped close to one fire and listened to two guys playing guitars. I stood and listened to the music for a couple of minutes, and my head nodded to the beat.

I needed to find my rhythm. My pacing felt all out of whack. We're all looking for a rhythm, a movement that isn't forced, that feels right. I wanted to be more surefooted. I was still searching for the perfect pace.

I found Clare and Gabe sitting next to one of the fires. I sat down next to Clare and hugged my knees to my chest. I recognized a laugh, and my stomach jerked like someone had jabbed my side. I looked across the fire and noticed Jax. He regarded me with a small smile, and his eyes reflected the flickering firelight. I looked away before anything lingered.

I concentrated on the crackling conversation of the fire. I missed sounds of the outside world. Sounds are three-dimensional, just like images. They come at you from every direction.

I watched a girl next to Jax laugh. She leaned her head back and arched her neck and her shoulders shook. They sat on a square blanket together, and there was something intimate about it. I wondered if Jax would kiss her later. I wondered if he really did hold his breath when he kissed. I wanted to stick my head in a hole for wondering.

I sighed and stared at the flames growing and shrinking and playing leapfrog over the wood. They peeked around logs, they jumped, they danced.

“You okay?” Clare asked me.

“I don't know,” I said. “We're so close, and part of me doesn't even care anymore. I just want it to be over,” I confessed.

“I know what it is,” she said. “You're not fighting with your heart anymore, Maddie.”

I stared deeper into the flames. She was right.

“My brother always told me the only way you're satisfied in life is if you're doing something with your heart. If your heart isn't in it, you're not on the right path. I believe that.”

“So what do I do?” I asked. “I've never given up on anything.”

“You find a different path,” she said. “That's not giving up.”

I nodded because what she was saying summed up so many knots in my mind, why they were there, why I couldn't work them out.

She stood up and I didn't realize anyone was next to me until an elbow poked my knee. I looked over and saw Jax had sat down. He threw a blanket at my feet. I was surprised how relieved I was to see him, how I instantly felt lighter.

“Thanks,” I said, and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. Even sitting so close to the fire, I felt the cold wind off the river chill my back and neck. I couldn't help glancing across the fire, where the brunette with the annoyingly loud laugh had been sitting next to Jax. She was gone.

“Where's Scorpio?” Jax asked, resting his arms on his bent knees.

I kept my eyes on the orange glow of the flames. They mesmerized me. The coals were the most gorgeous part, burning bright neon red. I wondered if part of their beauty came from knowing you couldn't touch them.

“He's busy trying to save the world,” I informed Jax. “I don't know what else to do.” I looked over at Jax and watched his eyes reflect the orange flickering light of the fire. “I've tried everything. I came back home to recruit everyone I could. I even have my dad on our side, and it hasn't made a dent.”

“You don't know that,” he said.

“Have you looked at the votes the students are casting?” I asked. Justin's speech had recruited twenty thousand supporters, which was nothing compared with the millions of people still against us. “Your dad was right,” I said. “People are addicted. And they don't want to admit they have a problem. No one cares.”

Jax stared at the fire. “Stop thinking about the vote,” he said.

“I can't,” I said.

“Well, stop worrying tonight,” he said. “There's nothing you can do right at this second.”

“That's the problem,” I said.

Jax tapped his hands on his knees. “Let me handle it. I'll think of something.”