Xvi (33 page)

Dee hurried into the apartment. I could hear her apologizing to Gran before the door closed behind her. I turned to Sal. “I shouldn’t have—”

“
We
shouldn’t have,” he corrected. “We were both stupid. It won’t happen again. Don’t worry.” He kissed me, and while it wasn’t toe curling, it was close enough.

After dinner, Sandy called. “I haven’t talked to you in forever! You have to see my tattoo, Nina! And Mike has beeped me almost every night.” Even through the PAV, I could tell she was eating something. “He even called on my birthday; which, by the way, was lame because you couldn’t come out. How’s your face now?”

“See for yourself.” I clicked a digi on my receiver and sent it. I ignored her comment about the tattoo. That was the last thing I wanted to think about. “You know, you and Mike have a lot in common.” A thought was forming in my brain. “You both love cows ...” I couldn’t think of another love they shared, unless it was Sandy herself. Saying that would be cruel, and besides, she really was sweet when she wasn’t being sex-teen of the century.

“He told me Derek’s playing at Soma on Saturday. I plan on being there. I’ll take the six-fifteen and meet you guys like before. I suppose Wei will come, too?” I heard her huff. “Oh well. We’ll party anyway. She’s sixteen, too, isn’t she? Doesn’t act like it. Wait till you see my tattoo. It didn’t hurt at all.”

She made her XVI sound like a badge of honor.

“Wear shoes you can walk in, okay?”

She laughed and then told me every single thing she’d have on. Exactly how she was planning to do her hair, etc., etc., etc. Eventually, we were both laughing and being as silly as we used to be. I missed those times in Cementville. Even with the stress of Ed in my family’s life, I’d been close to happy. I loved Sandy, even in her craziness.

We’d only had a half day of school on Friday, and I was home, in my room, sketching my makeshift dresser. I noticed the corner of Dee’s baby book jutting out from under my clothes. It had been well over three weeks since Sal and I had been to his aunt Rita’s and told Rita about it. I’d been waiting for some kind of word from her so I could get Dee’s baby book to my father.

Sal had tried getting in touch with her earlier in the week, but didn’t have any luck. Wei’d asked her parents about my dad again the other day, but they hadn’t heard anything since before her dad’s trip to Amsterdam. With everything that had happened, I still hadn’t been able to get away to listen to my dad’s debates, or risk bringing the baby book out to Wei’s to have her mom take a look. The longer I waited for other people to get me and my father together, the more I felt like I was the one who needed to do something. I’d been waiting almost sixteen years—maybe it was time to do it myself.

I called Wei. “Is your mom back from Tokyo?”

“Yes. She got back yesterday.”

“Remember how you said she knows all about codes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You think she would she be willing to take a look at that thing we talked about?” I wasn’t taking any chances about audio surveillance by speaking more precisely.

“Let me ask.” After a few moments, she said, “Mom can look at it in an hour. You want me to come get you?”

“No. I’ll be there.”

I didn’t want to risk carrying the book in a bag that could be grabbed from me, so I stuck it under my waistband and pulled my longest sweater on and shrugged into my bulkiest jacket. I’d worry about how to sit down on the trans when I had to.

The elport slid to a stop on the third floor and a tall man in a black Turino coat and a wool hat pulled down low on his brow got on. Maybe I should have taken Wei up on her offer. He was not one of the building regulars. I hugged my stomach.

“Cold?” He cocked his head, looking down at me, at my belly in particular, I was sure.

“Kind of.” His expression sent chills up my spine. I shivered and hugged myself even harder, to keep my arms from trembling. Trying to not be obvious, I scooted close to the buttons, in case I needed to press the alarm.

When the elport reached the lobby, he exited. I mumbled something about forgetting my gloves and pressed the button to close the doors, in case he was thinking about getting back inside. Up on my floor, I got out and watched the elport display. It went down and up several times, stopping at many different floors. I waited, giving him sufficient time to leave if he wasn’t trying to follow me. I went down to the first floor again. I didn’t see the man anywhere, so I went outside and stood by the corner of the building, where I was shielded from the wind. I heard some noise behind me and jumped. It was a small group of homeless going through the refuse bin. One of them was Joan.

The women scattered like pigeons when I approached them, except for Joan and the woman who’d been with her before.

“Joan? Are you doing okay?” I ignored the obvious answer.

She looked up at me, and for a second, I thought she recognized me. But then the spark was gone.

“Your family says they haven’t heard from you. I know your mom must be worried.” I hadn’t said anything to Mike yet about seeing Joan. How could I do it without crushing him? Mrs. Trueblood had been so thrilled when Joan was chosen. I couldn’t imagine how she’d feel seeing her daughter the way she was now.

“Can’t,” she replied, staring at her feet. “Dangerous.”

“Is there something I can do? You want me to call them for you?”

Joan’s woman friend pushed herself between the two of us. “You can leave her alone,” she said. “GC’s done enough to her and everyone else like her.”

“She’s got a family,” I said. “And friends. We can help.”

Joan reached past the woman and grabbed my arm. “Tell Mike ... I miss him.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and she turned back to the bin.

“Hey, girl. Tell him at your own risk. His, too.” The woman glared at me before putting her arm around Joan. She led her away like a little child. They rounded the refuse bin and disappeared.

I was torn. I wanted to tell Mike that his sister was back, but I didn’t dare. Not after that warning. If everything Wei’d told me about FeLS was true and the GC was involved, it was probably safer for him not to know anything.

Walking out of the alley, I spotted the man in the coat, leaning against a light post across the way. It’d been at least twenty minutes since we were in the elport together. Luckily, the transit was just pulling up. I hurried over to the transit stop, and squeezed between two ladies waiting for the number 33, ignoring their irritated looks. When we boarded the transit, I swung into the seat behind the driver and carefully sat down. I saw the man in the coat through the transit window, still standing in the same place, watching me as we drove off. The bottom edge of the book dug into my thighs. Fortunately, the ride was short, otherwise I was sure my legs would’ve fallen asleep. Wei was at the stop waiting for me.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” I stuck my hand in my jacket, arranging the book.

“What are you doing? Got an itch?”

“It’s in here. We have to hurry, there was a man at the transit stop ...”

Wei started laughing. “Nina, you didn’t need to worry. Dad’s friends, you know.” She nodded toward a blue trannie parked on the street. Inside was the man in the coat. He nodded to me. I felt the heat rush to my face, a combination of relief and embarrassment.
What an idiot I am
! I thought. Wei pulled me along to her house.

“I’m helping my brother, Chris, in the kitchen,” Wei said, opening the door. “Mom’s waiting for you in the living room.” She gave me a quick hug and left. I pulled the book out of my waistband before going in.

“Here it is.” I handed it to Wei’s mom, and another wave of relief washed over me.

“Take your coat off. Do you want some hot chocolate or tea?” Mrs. Jenkins had a tray with two covered pots and a plate of what smelled like freshly baked cookies. I slipped out of my jacket and sat down. “Hot chocolate, please.”

“Take a cookie, too.” She handed me a mug and I snagged a still-warm cookie. “Now ...” She opened the book, perusing the pages.

I stopped mid-chew, holding my breath, watching her face.

She raised an eyebrow. “Come with me.”

I set down my cup and stood.

“No, no. Bring it along. Maybe the cookies, too?” Her smile warmed me to my toes. I didn’t hesitate snatching up the plate as I followed her out the door. We took the stairs to the third floor.

Mrs. Jenkins inserted a long metal key into the lock of a pair of doors that were identical to the ones on the floor below. I heard a click and the doors swung open.

I’d never seen such sumptuousness. Silken fabric stitched with golden threads hung on the windows. Pillows of red, yellow, and purple plumped the corners of oversize sofa and chairs. Everything looked so inviting, I wanted to snuggle into a seat and stay there forever. It seemed like the sort of place where nothing scary or bad could ever happen.

Mrs. Jenkins didn’t stop there, but continued down the hallway. We entered a room with bookshelves along three walls. They were filled to capacity with leather-bound volumes, many of which had crackled spines and worn corners. I’d never seen so many real books in one place before. It made Ginnie’s few paperbacks look paltry. The fourth wall was taken up almost entirely by a cabinet with the same lacquer finish as Mrs. Jenkins’s box of herbs and potions. A large intricately patterned carpet covered the floor, and in the center of it was a massive wooden table with carved legs.

She placed Dee’s baby book on the table and went to the cabinet. When she returned, she was holding two paintbrushes and several small bottles.

She uncorked two of the bottles and poured some liquid from each into a saucer. She dipped in a brush and said, “This will tell us what she had to say.”

I stood transfixed as she swept the brush across the blank inside cover of the book. Within moments, I could make out the neat contours of Ginnie’s handwriting.

“That’s unbelievable. How did you—”

“When Ginnie and I were young we sent each other secret notes in school. Sometimes we used code, but mostly we wrote with invisible ink. Code was fine for typical schoolgirl notes, such as ‘I really like so and so, what do you think of him?’ However, if we had to communicate information of great importance, we would write in invisible ink.”

“But how did you know there was writing in this?”

“That little flower by her signature. Of course, there had to be a sign so we could let each other know when a note contained a hidden message.”

“The flower.”

“Yes, the moment I saw it, I knew what to look for.”

She pulled a lamp close and shone it on the faded brown letters.

Below that was a P.S. dated a week before she died.