Fast-Tracked (23 page)

Byron just rolled his eyes and laughed back, “Of course that’s what you think. You just don’t get it do you?” His eyes were once again hard and cold.

“Then explain it to me,” I pleaded. I was bewildered by his sudden relapse to scorn and anger.

“It’s not the job. It’s all your fast-tracker
buddies
.” He spat their title out like it was a dirty word. “Some just randomly dock my rations because they can. Others cut them as retaliation for my refusing to do certain favors for them. I guess they figure once I finally get hungry and weak enough I’ll agree to almost anything.” By the defeated look in his eyes, I could tell that he was beginning to think they were right.

“I can give you some of my income credits and double your rations,” I blurted without thinking.

“Yeah, like that wouldn’t quickly get noticed – and cause trouble.”

“No, you’re right, that’s a stupid idea. I spoke before thinking,” I admitted. “But I can buy gold or whatever other goods you need to get by and barter for food with.”

Byron blatantly scoffed at my idea. “There’s not a single store that would trade with me. They’d all assume they were stolen goods, and carrying anything of value is a good way to get robbed and killed.” His tone sounded condescending.

“Then come back to my apartment; let me take care of you. You can’t go on like this.” I grabbed his hand to get him to look at me. But he just rolled his eyes and laughed. “What?” I demanded.

“That’s your most ridiculous idea yet. I’m sure no one would wonder what I’m doing hiding out in your apartment.” He laughed and pulled his hand free.

“No one would have to know,” I insisted.

“Of course they would know. My every move is tracked. Out here I stand out like a sore thumb. There’s no way they’d miss me going outside of my work area.” His level of paranoia was scaring me. He must have seen the concern on my face because he threw his hands up and growled. “Could you be any more clueless? There’s a GPS chip implanted in me. All day long I appear as a little blip on some police officer’s screen.”

I grabbed his arm and forced him to face me again, “Look, I’m only trying to help. I’m limited in what I can do right now until I gain more power, but at least let me try to do
something
.”

Byron dropped his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. I know none of this is your fault, but it’s hard not to feel angry.” He reached out and gently brushed the side of my cheek. “There were just so many things I wanted and had planned for that…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

I placed my fingers under his chin and lifted until his eyes met mine. I didn’t want him to look away, and he didn’t. “Don’t stop wanting or planning. Your life’s not gone, just delayed. Once Camille is assessed you can appeal, and in case that doesn’t work, you have me as a back-up. I’m doing everything I can to gain power and favor with the fast-trackers. One day I plan to have enough power to get you out of this mess.” Saying it out loud to Byron made me feel like it was somehow possible.

“
Lexi
, don’t. Don’t you understand that’s why I pushed you away in the first place? The last thing I want is you to endanger yourself with some harebrained plan to rescue me.”

“I’m not just doing it for you. I’m a newbie fast-tracker, which means my status is precarious at best. I could easily disappear if I angered the wrong person. I’ve seen it happen. If it wasn’t for the friends I’ve made, I’d already be some politician’s trophy wife, or worse. So don’t talk to me like I’m a naïve little girl needlessly endangering herself. I’m already endangered. But I plan to position myself so that no one can ever threaten me or the people I care about ever again.” My face was flushed red with anger, but even as I fumed I knew it masked my shame. Recently my efforts had only been concerned with my status and not Byron.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, especially if there is anything I can do to prevent it.” He grabbed a hold of my hand and squeezed. Then he gave me that crooked sheepish smile with the puppy dog eyes that he knew I could never resist.

Then I had an idea. “Can you make the trash can near the college your last stop of the day?” I asked.

“Actually, it already is. You just haven’t seen me because I adjusted my schedule to avoid running into you. I figured it was easier that way.” As he explained, he didn’t meet my eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed or afraid that I’d be mad.

“Good. Just look in it before you dump it. There’s no limit on my portions; I’ll just take some extra with me. I can just throw some away before you collect it,” I explained, hoping he’d accept. “What time do you usually collect it at?”

“No! What if you got caught? It’s too dangerous,” he protested. I crossed my arms and stared back at him. He knew me well enough to know I’d go ahead with the plan with or without his help. With a soft moan, he rested his head against me. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“So I’ve been told.” But I had won, so I smiled.

“I usually finish by eight o’clock. Just be careful,” he warned.

“I will. I promise.” I crossed my heart before I had to jog away. We could hear someone chatting loudly and they were walking our way. I didn’t feel like explaining what I was doing having a conversation with Bryon.

As I turned and gave him a final wave, I realized the bushes we had been hiding behind were our Amber Flush roses.

Instead of allowing myself to feel distraught or wallow in self-pity, I went to work the moment I got back into my apartment. I ignored Wendy’s questioning expression, which seemed to wonder if I would change my mind and tell her I was just kidding, and I wasn’t her savior but her worst nightmare. I grabbed my collection of Shakespeare’s works, which was really a book safe, and
took
out my collection of recordings. I had told myself that I was waiting until
Autumn
left because it would be safer, but in reality I had become complacent. I was enjoying my new life and hadn’t been working as hard as I should have been to gain power.

Wendy’s continued look of curiosity was starting to bug me, so I explained. “I’m going to be busy the rest of the day with research. Help yourself to whatever food you want and feel free to use the desktop tablet.” I was pleasantly surprised to see her enter the kitchen and start searching through it.

I had hundreds of hours of recordings to search through, and I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I just knew that it needed to be something someone wouldn’t want to be made public. So my search was very slow going as I diligently scrolled through what were mostly boring conversations.

By the time I found anything useful it was almost dark out and the kitchen was filled with the pleasant aroma of dinner. The recording showed Congressman
Norwinn
and the back of someone I couldn’t identify. They were discussing what it would cost for the Congressman to ensure that the latest construction bid would be awarded to the faceless man.

While I was wrapped up with my recordings, Wendy had taken the time to make a shepherd’s pie. I didn’t even remember having the ingredients for it. But then again,
Autumn’s
servants had always kept the kitchen well stocked.

I thanked Wendy and then the two of us ate in silence. Then I helped her clean the kitchen. She was reluctant to accept my help, but after insisting several times that it made me happy to be able to help, she stopped protesting. She didn’t question, but watched intently as I separated the leftovers – half into a storage container and half into a large plastic baggie.

I announced I was going for a walk and headed outside with the baggie. I took a quick stroll through the closest part of the park and discreetly as I could dropped the bag in the garbage can as I passed.

When I returned to the apartment Wendy greeted me by saying, “You should get a dog.”

“Huh?” I was surprised at her sudden boldness. “Is a dog something you want?” I asked gently.

“Not particularly, but a small
yapper
would make your food donations less conspicuous. Just place them in a poop bag and no one will give it a second glance,” Wendy explained. I threw my arms around her – she yelped.

“Sorry. That’s just a great idea.” I released her from my grasp.

“So who’s it for?” she asked.

“A childhood friend.
His dad pissed off the wrong person, so he wasn’t very lucky when assessment time came,” I explained, but there was a note of finality in my voice that warned I didn’t want to go into it any further.

“I imagine you feel a lot like my friend Emily did when I had to leave,” she answered sympathetically. But she didn’t explain any further: instead she busied herself wiping the already clean countertops.

Appreciative of her respecting my wishes, I went back to reviewing my recordings. The night was still warm and nice, so I took my tablet out onto my patio.

“The far left corner has the best view,” Wendy called over her shoulder.

Sure enough, when I looked down, I could see the garbage can I had so recently visited. I had a difficult time focusing on my work and had to keep rewinding it, until I finally heard the noise I was listening for. I looked down and watched as Byron emptied his last trashcan. Before he left, he tucked my bag into his overalls. It might have been my imagination, or wishful thinking, but there seemed to be more of a bounce in his step as he walked away from my view.

It was almost midnight by the time I went to bed. I had finally found another useful recording to copy. This clip I felt had more value. It surprised me when I first found it, but gave me a valuable lesson on backstabbing: being friends didn’t protect you from it.

Theodore Winthrop and Bryce Bennington were conspiring to squeeze Grant
Kuttler
out of the steel market. That would allow Winthrop to corner the market on tram repair and production. Bennington was going to slowly raise his prices for Grant
Kuttler
until it got to the point that buying refined steel was no longer profitable. Bennington was the only steel refiner in the country, so
Kuttler
would be out of the tram business. As a reward for his help, Winthrop would then sell some of his stock shares on the ore mines. Apparently it would give Bennington the fifty-one percent in stock that he needed to control the mining company.

It wasn’t the backroom deal that surprised me, but the fact that Bryce Bennington and Grant
Kuttler
were Slade’s and
Grayson ’s
dads, and supposedly life-long best friends. I had been naïve enough to think that actually meant something in business.

Chapter 15

 
I headed out early the next morning. My parents had been pestering me to come home for a visit. I hadn’t seen them since I first left for college. Even worse, lately I barely ever called them – or answered their calls. I had been too wrapped up in my fast-tracker life. Needless to say a visit was long overdue.

The visit would also give me a chance to safely hide a set of the recorded copies I had made. I already had the exact spot picked out: somewhere none of my enemies would ever know to look. I had considered giving Wendy the day off to relax and get used to her new home, but then I remembered all of my old clothes. She had nothing to wear right now, except the white dress that clearly marked her as an orange level servant. That dress needed to be burned.

So I loaned Wendy my most casual jeans and a plain top and had her accompany me for the day. I talked her through her first air-tram flight, and then told her stories about what my mom and dad were like. So by the time we knocked on their front door she was looking forward to meeting them.

“Oh
my gosh
!” my mom squealed. She yelled, “Ethan!” Then, turning back to me: “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Why didn’t you call? I would have gotten something ready for you. I don’t even have a cake, cookies, or even any brownies…”

She would have continued rambling, but I put a hand on her shoulder and laughed. “Mom, that’s exactly why I didn’t call ahead. If I had I’d probably be walking home to a full parade and fireworks,” I teased. “I don’t need any fuss. I just want to see you and Dad,” I explained as we walked toward the kitchen.

My dad waited at the doorway with his arms open for a hug. “Notice or no notice, I’m just glad to see you, sweetie.” He wrapped me in his arms. A shiver of regret ran through my body. I had forgotten how good his hugs were. They always managed to silently tell me how loved I was and that no matter what, everything would be all right.

I wiped my tears on my arm before they could be seen.
“Mom.
Dad.
This is Wendy
Bernally
. She’s, ah, my, ah… assistant.” The lie didn’t come out very well. Regardless of how good I’d become, my parents remained the two people I couldn’t fool.

“Oh,” my mom responded suspiciously. “You’re a little young for an assistant, aren’t you?”

I froze up. I couldn’t tell my parents the truth about Wendy. I mean, really, how do you tell your parents that the girl standing next to you is your servant? Sure, I could explain that she was doomed to a life equivalent to slavery simply for being an orphan. But that would only lead to more questions. Questions that would leave my parents terribly worried about me, and that was a burden I was unwilling to give them.