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  “Wait—”

  He held up a hand.

  “No, I get it. I screwed up so many times with you. Ever since the day we met I’ve royally screwed up, and you gave me so many chances. I honestly didn’t deserve it. It’s just messed-up timing—you realized you don’t need me at exactly the point when I realized I need you.” He smiled, this sad smile. “Is that how it usually works?”

  Before I could argue against his ridiculous logic, the exit door flew open and I turned to see the two security guards who had left me in the hallway. Now they stood on either side of my dad. They each pointed a gun at Justin. One guard had a trace of a smirk on his face.

  I turned and glared at my father. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said.

  “I never wanted you to be afraid of me, Madeline. That was never my intention. Drop your guns,” my father commanded both guards.

  Their arms fell to their sides, and my dad told them to leave us. He said he’d be inside in a few minutes. They nodded and turned back into the building. One of them waved the peace sign at Justin over his head before the door closed behind him.

  “We need to get back,” my father said. “I have a speech to make, to try to fix what just happened in there.”

  “What’s there to fix? That video was completely honest,” I said. I was bristling with anger, but it wasn’t because of my father. I hated that Justin had doubted me, and I hated that there was no time to explain.

  My dad waited quietly and I knew what he wanted. I walked over to him and he grabbed my arm, at the elbow, and held on. I stood there, in such an awkward place. Even though Justin was just a few feet away, I felt this barrier between him and my father, and I knew I was standing on the wrong side.

  A wind blew through the alley and brushed Justin’s hair over his forehead. He looked calmly at my dad.

  “You need to let her go,” my father warned him, saying each word slowly so there was no confusion.

  “I’m not the one who’s holding on to her,” Justin said. They were the first words he had ever targeted directly at my dad. Up until this point, he had never said a thing to my father. My dad seemed to register that as well.

  “That’s all you have to say to me?”

  Justin leaned back in his seat. “I don’t waste my time talking to people who can’t listen,” he said, his voice smooth and direct. They regarded each other with the same determined eyes.

  “Stay away from her,” my dad said slowly. “I mean it, Justin. Look at what happens the second you come into her life. Guns are pointed at her.”

  “I wasn’t too concerned,” Justin said through a smile. “Those guys are friends of mine.”

  My dad’s fingers flinched on my arm. It was a small indication that he was annoyed, but his face still hid behind a stoic mask. “You think this is funny? Do you have a cocky comeback for everything?”

  Justin smirked. “Is this your idea of collaborating with your daughter? Physical force and threats?”

  “And this is your idea? Storming the National Education Benefit? Ruining this event? Can you operate on a level other than extreme?”

  I stared between them and felt like I was caught inside a crossfire.

  “Can you?” Justin threw back at him. “You know, you’re not the only one who can spread a message,” he pointed out.

  “It’s not that easy,” my dad said.

  “Would you stop doing this?” Justin said, his patience withering. “Just talk to people, talk to Maddie. She’s your daughter. We’re human beings; stop talking in some cryptic language all the time. Can’t you just tell us what you want?”

  We could hear scuffling behind the door. My dad’s fingers flinched again.

  “You better get out of here,” he warned Justin. “Now.”

  Justin studied my dad, and for a second his expression changed. His eyes narrowed. Something surprised him. His eyes cut to mine before he slid his helmet on and gunned the engine of his bike.

  My dad tugged me to the door as Justin’s bike peeled out of the alley.

  Chapter Four

  My dad pounded his fist against the metal door three times, and one of the security guards let us in. Paul was stomping down the hallway toward us, his eyes burning.

  “Was she trying to run away?” he said accusingly to my father, and then he glared at me. “I knew you were in on this.”

  “I’ll handle it from here, Paul,” my dad told him, and pressed his hand against Paul’s chest, warning him to back off.

  “We need to question her, Kevin. She’s a number one suspect for this,” he said.

  “I said I would handle her,” my dad ordered. Paul looked between us and stalked through the stage door. One of the event staff stood in the doorway and motioned for my dad to come inside.

  I glanced through the open door into a room lit under bright fluorescent lights and saw Paul and Damon standing inside with a cluster of reporters and a few cops. Paul glared again in my direction. My father told the worker we needed a few minutes, and he nodded and shut the door.

  My dad turned to me. A long sigh told me he was fighting to stay calm.

  “Your sworn oath to never communicate with Justin Solvi lasted a whole two days,” he grumbled.

  “I had nothing to do with this, if that’s what you’re wondering.” My eyes were steady on his.

  He leaned his head to one side and regarded me. “Yet, you somehow knew Justin would be right outside those doors? It doesn’t add up, Maddie.”

  That’s because people are more than numbers on a chart, I wanted to say. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” I insisted.

  “I let the dress go, and your obnoxious hair, and your defiant attitude in general, but this is getting ridiculous. Do you want me to send you to prison? Is that what you want?”

  “I want you to stop treating me like a wild animal. You treat me like I’m some kind of a leopard that needs to be caged. So I’m going to play the part. Start taking me seriously, Dad, and maybe I’ll stop acting out.”

  He mulled this over, as if he was just realizing this was the case. We were interrupted when the stage door swung open and the same staff worker stepped out and gave my dad a nervous glance. He cleared his throat.

  “Mr. Freeman, sir, we can’t find the benefit video. It appears to have been deleted.” My dad nodded quickly to him and motioned for the guards, who were waiting at the end of the hall.

  “Escort her back to the dining room,” he ordered them, “and make sure she stays there.” His eyes dug into mine. “You are not to leave your seat the rest of this evening,” he said, and turned to the stage door.

  I followed the guards back to the table, empty now except for Becky, sitting all alone in the circular space and staring into her phone. I felt eyes stick to me as I walked. The entire room watched the procession, and I could already hear the whispers, but I kept my eyes focused straight ahead at the table.

  Overhead music snapped on, which was a relief from the hum of gossip.

  One guard sat down next to me, and the other guard backed away and stood against the wall closest to our table.

  I chewed on my nails, annoyed that I would be blamed for this, but even more annoyed at Justin’s words. Scott was right; I should have waited to talk to him before I left Eden. Of course it looked like I was leaving him. I needed to talk to him, the one person I was forbidden to communicate with.

  I watched Becky and waited for her to look up from her phone screen. Her head was down, her eyes fixed, like they were connected to the glowing pixels.

  “Becky,” I said.

  “Hm?” she mumbled.

  “How long have you been working with the DS Dropouts?” I didn’t care if the guard next to me heard. If they were friends with Justin, they probably knew what was happening tonight.

  Her eyes stopped scanning the screen, and she pulled out an earpod and looked at me. “What?”

  “I think you heard me,” I said. She blinked for a few seconds, stalling.

  �
��I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

  “I saw one of your messages,” I told her. “From Riley. How do you know Riley?”

  I looked over and saw my mom and Mrs. Thompson coming out the stage-door entrance. I didn’t have much time. Becky’s eyes focused on mine, wide with fear that I had discovered her. I knew I was right. I pressed harder.

  “Was it just a coincidence that you got up a few minutes before the video started?” I asked her. “There aren’t any other DS protesters in here. It had to be you.” Her eyes flickered between me and the guard.

  “Did you tell her, Ryan?” she grumbled at him, but he shook his head. I raised my eyebrows. So she definitely was in on this.

  “You helped set this up, didn’t you?”

  I watched her and waited. Her dark eyes cautiously settled on mine, still contemplating what to confess. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that it was her. It made sense. Damon was almost as controlling as my dad. Usually that encourages at least one kid in the family to start asking questions.

  I nodded to the phone in her hand. “Your screen saver is of a rock stack in the ocean,” I added. “I recognized it. That rock stack is in Eden.”

  Her eyes lit up. “You’ve been there?”

  I nodded.

  “Riley told me about it. It sounds like—”

  “So, you are friends with Riley.”

  Her face flushed. “We’re a little more than friends.”

  I smiled. I could see it. It’s amazing what people don’t have to say, what you’re capable of seeing from their reactions. I loved that about being face-to-face. Those small, intimate reactions. You could read people. Their eyes were chapters and their faces were books. Their expressions were stories. It always fascinated me.

  “Are you going to rat on me?” she asked.

  “Do I look like I would?” I asked. I glanced over and saw my mom and Mrs. Thompson heading toward our table.

  “You’re probably going to be blamed for this,” she pointed out.

  “True. Then I guess you owe me a favor,” I said.

  “What?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  “You can help me get in contact with people,” I said. “I need you to come over to my house this week.”

  She laughed. “No offense, but I’m not allowed to hang out with you.”

  I tapped my fingers on the table and smiled. She wasn’t going to get out of it that easily. “You obviously know how to sneak around your parents, if you helped set this up. I’m not allowed to leave my house. But if I’m with you, my parents might let me go. They trust your family.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, stalling again.

  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I’d hate to have to tell my mom what happened.”

  Becky glanced up just as our moms arrived at the table. My mom still looked startled by the events. She sat down on the other side of Ryan and took a sip of white wine. Mrs. Thompson remained standing, and I looked up at her. Her back was straight and tight, and her hands gripped the silky black fabric at her waist.

  “Let’s go, Becky,” she said quickly. Becky stared at her, her eyes widening.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, worried that she was caught. She was completely obvious, I thought. More doubt than confidence. I seemed to be the only one who noticed. It’s amazing what people allow themselves to be blind to.

  “I’m sorry, Jane,” Mrs. Thompson said to my mom. “But I’m not going to sit here when this entire night was ruined by your daughter,” she said. “I respect you and Kevin, but I truly feel sorry for you. This girl should be locked behind bars. Take one good look at her. She’s out of control.” With that, she turned and walked away. Becky slid out of her chair and gave me a fast, apologetic frown before she caught up with her mother.

  I chewed on the black polish of my fingernail and snuck a look at my mom. I was waiting for her to kick me out of the room before she lost all her friends.

  “Do you hate me too?” I asked quietly. My eyes started to burn. I felt like I’d let down everyone tonight, and she was the last person who deserved it. Before I had time to doubt, she reached across the table and grabbed my hand.

  “Mrs. Thompson has the compassion of Genghis Khan,” she told me. “She doesn’t want her daughter to be influenced by you—well, as far as I’m concerned, those women don’t deserve the privilege of your company anyway.”

  I squeezed her hand back, so relieved that I laughed. “I thought you were friends.”

  “Friends don’t treat each other like that.” My mom looked at me. “They don’t get up and walk away just when things get hard. I know you didn’t do this, Maddie. And even if you did do it, honestly, I don’t care. I’m proud of you. You’ve never done anything wrong. Maybe we’re the ones who are doing it all wrong. I don’t really know anymore.”

  My mom let go of my hand. I sat back in my chair when the emcee came onstage to introduce my dad. I snuck a look at the security guard, and he was holding his phone under the table. He pointed to his screen, and I glanced down. There was a message there. It read, “Tell Maddie, I never got the chance to tell her something. It’s three words. They’re too personal to say over a screen. But she knows what they are. ~J.”

  The guard and I shared a smile before the lights dimmed.

  May 24, 2061

  Parents show you life is a paved road. Friends show you the road isn’t there yet, it’s waiting for you to carve it out. Parents show you life is a handbook, with rules set in place. Friends show you how to break the rules you’re handed.

  With my dad I always felt like I was living life in the passenger seat, watching it go by. Justin always put me in the driver’s seat. He never gave me directions, he just showed me how to accelerate. The steering was up to me.

  Family has the greatest influence, but friends make the greatest impact. That’s something I’ve learned over the last year. Influence and impact mix together, like ingredients that shape us into who we are. Influence only goes so far. It lays the foundation. But impact disturbs the foundation. It makes it crack or sink or rise, maybe topple altogether to start over again. I guess that’s why parents are so protective about what kinds of friends we make when we’re young. They seem to be in on this secret.

  Chapter Five

  “You’ve been home for forty-eight hours, and you’ve already managed to have two guns pointed at your head,” my dad informed me during breakfast the next morning. He was dressed in his usual uniform of a business suit. My pink hair was tied up in a ponytail. I felt like a color photo displayed next to something black and white.

  This was a conversation I had hoped to avoid. I had the naïve wish that my dad would let what happened at the benefit the night before be a blip in my otherwise perfect behavior. I watched the wall screen in front of the table, where the morning news was on.

  My dad cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to ignore the topic. I busied myself with stirring loose pieces of cereal off the sides of my bowl until they all swirled together in the center.

  “Technically, I’ve been home for seventy-two hours,” I said. “And technically, those guns were pointed at Justin’s head.” I asked him a question that had been bothering me all morning. “Why didn’t you just have Justin arrested last night?”

  Dad set down his coffee. “And give him the publicity he wants? That would have been doing him a favor. If we tried to arrest him, it would have sent a mob of rioters to the building. All it would have done was draw attention to his cause, and it probably would have pointed back to you.”

  We were interrupted when a local news story flashed on the screen. An animated cartoon of a reporter spoke to us behind a desk littered with advertisement banners. Although the voice of the reporter sounded mature, the cartoon character depicted a woman closer to twenty-five, with long, golden hair that curled in waves around her tight, black blazer. Her eyes were so large and crystal blue, they looked like a pool you could dive into.

 
; “Due to the declining use of public transportation, half of the city’s ZipShuttles will be retired this month,” the voice informed us. “Also, all ZipTrains will be rerouted to account for fewer stops needed around the city. The south-side Langdon Street offices have closed downtown, deciding to go completely online, which is fantastic news, as this will save on electricity, fuel, and energy bills. Now you can find anything you need on their websites.”

  I frowned at the screen. This is great news? I thought. That the world, every day, is drying up? And we were supposed to feel like this was a positive sign? Maybe, if we were robots running on electrical wires.

  My dad surprised me by turning off the kitchen wall screen. We always had it on while we were eating. I glanced down at his black suitcase.

  “Business trip?” I asked.

  “I have meetings with lawyers about the detention centers.”

  I leaned forward. Now, this conversation interested me.

  “Are you finding the evidence you need to shut them down?” my mom asked, and Dad shot her a look.

  “You know I can’t talk details of the case,” he said. My mom nodded, backing down, but I wouldn’t settle.

  “When are they freeing the rest of the centers?” I pressed.

  My dad finished his coffee. “They’re still on lockdown, Maddie. Last I heard, the centers were going to keep operating.”

  “What?” my mom and I said in unison.

  “Changes will be made,” my dad said in a simple tone, as if the only changes they had to make were remodeling buildings, not dealing with chemically brainwashed kids.

  “Dad, where is Richard Vaughn? Why isn’t he in jail after what he did to the people at the detention centers?”

  My dad’s eyes shot straight into me. “He isn’t your concern, Maddie. This is out of your hands. Don’t make Vaughn your responsibility. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  My dad’s eyes were so severe, I lost the nerve to argue. My mom stared into her coffee cup, and the room was silent except for the hum of lights and machines and wires.