Genesis Girl (20 page)

“Okay.” If Seth thinks he can trick me, he’s got another thing coming. I know what I’m allowed to say.

I give Seth my best, most innocent girl-next-door smile. I can sell soap, I can sell clean energy, and I can sell Seth the cleaned-up version of Vestal history. I’ll just leave out the part about the dissenters. That’s harder to explain. “The Vestals were founded fifty years ago by a man named Barbelo Nemo, who lost people he loved in the Brain Cancer Epidemic.”

“Was Barbelo Nemo his real name?” Seth interrupts.

“Yes, of course it was. Why would you ask that?”

“No reason. I’m naturally inquisitive. What does Barbelo Nemo look like?”

“He has long white hair, a beard, and glasses.”

“So he basically looks like Santa?”

“Stop being an ass!” I snap. Then I fight not to seem annoyed. Vestal history is pure, and I need to do it justice.

“Sorry,” says Seth, and his apology seems genuine. “Have you ever met Barbelo?”

“No. He stays private now. Barbelo has retreated to his estate, but nobody knows where that is. Nobody has seen him in the past twenty years, but Headmaster Russell receives messages from him almost daily.”

“How?” Seth asks.

“What do you mean?”

“How does Russell get messages from Barbelo, if neither of them are connected?”

What an idiot! “Um, the postal service? Ever heard of that?”

“The mail? You mean like snail mail?”

“Yes.”

“Nobody but the government uses snail mail anymore.”

“Well, Vestals use the postal service too.”

“But,” Seth protests, “you’d have to have a special permit. You’d need to be a politician or somebody to still get the
USPS
. It went bankrupt years ago. Now it’s only for VIPs.”

“Exactly,” I answer.

Seth pauses a second, letting that sink in. Then he asks, “So how did it all start? Why were the Vestals founded to begin with?”

“Barbelo began the order with the children of his friends who had died. He vowed to protect them. He vowed to keep them safe from all the things that had consumed his loved ones. He was brilliant because he saw that technology and cancer were one and the same. Some people were dying of brain cancer and some people weren’t, but everyone was suffering the same fate in the end.
Technology was driving people apart and tearing them away from the physical presence of the people they loved.”

I’ve got my cuff against my heart, and I don’t remember putting it there.

“That’s why the Vestals were founded, Seth. We are living reminders to the rest of the world that there is a better way to live.”

“And you buy that?” Seth asks. “You believe that a bunch of people who died would name Barbelo—if that’s his real name—as the guardian to their kids?”

“Of course,” I say. “That’s what happened. Everyone knows that.”

“Only Vestals would say that,” argues Seth. “Normal people would ask more questions. They’d want to see evidence.”

“I
am
normal.” I get up, ready to leave, but Seth stops me.

“Wait,” he says. “Explain the Harvest to me.”

“That’s easy,” I say. “The world was fed up! People and companies were sick and tired of celebrities hawking products one day and being on the front page of tabloids the next. Nobody could trust anybody. It was bad for business. That’s why companies started harvesting Vestals instead. We’re completely trustworthy and consumers know that.”

“
And
you can’t be scanned.”

“Yes.” I smile. Seth’s finally getting it! “Nobody can look up our past history of transgressions at the scan of a fingertip. There’re no dumb pictures of us as teenagers following us around. Vestals are virtually blank, and that makes us special.”

“Special is right,” Seth says. But he doesn’t say it like it’s a compliment.

“So you see?” I continue, ignoring the slam. “Ms. Lydia and I, we’re completely trustworthy, like the rest of the Vestals. That’s why—”

“Why what?”

“Nothing,” I say. I was about to tell Seth about the Vestal Archives, but I stopped myself before the slip.

“I want to trust you,” Seth says. “But I’m worried about you too.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared for you. Do you know what my mom said the definition of a god was?” When I don’t move a muscle, Seth answers for me. “Somebody you’re willing to bet your life on.”

“I don’t think Barbelo’s a god,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

“You have, and you don’t even realize it. That’s the scariest part of all.”

“Well, now you’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not. You’re so hell-bent on following Barbelo Nemo and believing that whatever he says is right, that you’ve lost all sense of self.”

“How can you say that?” My back tenses.

“Because you don’t make your own rules. You don’t think your own thoughts!”

“That’s not true!”

“Is it?” Seth asks. “Here’s another question: what do you like to do, Blanca? What do you like to do for fun?” Seth looks at me closely. His dark eyes pierce me so hard that I have to fight the urge to look away.

“What type of question is that?” I stall for time. Nobody’s ever asked me that before.

“I’m proving a point. What do you like to do in your free time?”

“I like to read,” I answer. “I write letters. I do yoga. I go running. Normal stuff like that.”

“Those are all things they tell you to do,” Seth says.

I start to protest, but he stops me.

“If you could do anything … If you had one perfect day to yourself, what would it be?” Seth stares at me so hard that all of a sudden I feel like I can’t breathe.

“That’s private,” I finally say, getting up to go.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” says Seth, still sitting on the couch. “You haven’t made me listen to reason yet.”

I don’t bother to argue. The sooner I can get to the cloister in my car, the better.

We kiss in the rain. My white dress clings to me and becomes transparent, but the way my breasts are crushed into Trevor, I’m completely covered. He’s got his arms around me, pulling me up to my toes. The water pours down his back, hitting every angle of his muscled shoulders. It’s another perfect date caught on camera for our companies to market.

It’s too bad Trevor’s mother is watching. Lilith shoots daggers my way every time I turn around. She makes the camera crew of Vestal Rejects seem friendly.

Then Lilith glares at me one more time, and I finally get it. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure the situation out.

That woman isn’t Lilith at all!

At least, she’s not the Lilith I remember from the Citrus Sunshine commercial. I think she’s actually Sarah, who used to come to my kindergarten class. Lilith and Sarah are dead ringers for each other.

“Am I doing better this time?” Trevor whispers, interrupting my thoughts. The stage techs adjust the rain machine, and a gentle mist envelopes us.

“Much better.” I lean into him. But when my ear is pressed against solid shoulder, I think harder.

Sarah’s been going gray since ninth grade. Now she’s making women all across the world believe that she’s Lilith, and that wrinkle cream will make them look as young as her. And how is anyone going to ever find out the truth about Sarah being twenty-five? They’re not! Sarah has no virtual fingerprint. She’s a blank slate, like me.

But the real question is, what happened to the previous Lilith? Why did they need to replace her?

“I could get used to this,” Trevor murmurs into my hair. “You’re so perfect,” he says before he kisses me again.

And I love him for saying that. Even though I know it’s not true. But with Trevor, it feels like it could be true, no matter who his crazy Vestal-mom is.

We shot a picnic-in-the-park scene this morning, and he fed me chocolate-covered strawberries. Then a scene at the pet store with all the puppies. This has been the best day of filming ever.

Things are about a thousand times better with Trevor than they were last time. He’s really loosened up. It’s like he knows all the right words to say. The only time it’s awkward is when Lilith/Sarah is around.

I wish that Ms. Lydia could be here. She’d know what to do.

Trevor pulls me in for one more kiss. “You’re adorable,” he says. “Am I making you happy?”

“Yes,” I answer. “More than happy.

“Good,” Trevor says. “You’ll come to the Vestal banquet next week, right?”

“Yes! If it’s okay with Cal.”

“Do you think you can convince him?” Trevor asks. “If you tell Ms. Lydia how great things are between us, will that help?”

“Probably,” I say. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Excellent, Blanca. I know you can do it.” Then he kisses me again as the cameras flash.

It’s late by the time I stop by Seth’s apartment. I knock on the divider and ask Alan to text Cal to tell him what’s up.
When you go someplace, leave a note.
I’m trying one last time to complete my mission.

“I thought you blew me off,” Seth says, after I come inside.

“I keep my promises to your dad,” I say. “He still wants you to listen.”

Seth flicks his thumb, and a silvery-gray photo shoots up of Trevor and me just hours before in the rain. Seth points to it with his other hand. “Is this real, Blanca?”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s real! That’s me, isn’t it?”

“Do you actually like this guy? Are you kissing Soap-boy for real or because my dad told you to?”

“That’s not what it’s like! Your dad would never tell me to do that.”

“So it’s real then?” Seth asks again.

“Yes,” I say. “Definitely.”

“For Soap-boy too?” Seth holds up his palm right in front of my face so I can stare at Trevor and me. “How do you know that somebody isn’t telling Soap-boy to make you like him?”

“I can tell when somebody is kissing me for real.”

“Can you?” Seth’s eyes flash. “Because I couldn’t.”

“Well that’s because—” I start to say. But then I stop myself.

“Because what?”

“Never mind.”

“I bet you couldn’t tell,” Seth says. He’s close enough now that I can smell his shampoo. “I bet if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t know if it was for real or if I was faking it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I could tell.” But I don’t move away.

“Prove it.” Seth cups my face in his hands and presses our lips together. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m kissing him back. His arms go around me, and my arms reach for his neck. We’re all tangled up in a mess of heat.

“Real or fake?” Seth asks, finally pulling apart.

I want to be honest, and that terrifies me. It feels like my filters are slipping away. Seth already knows so much. Would it hurt to tell him a little more?

That’s the dangerous part about Seth. He makes me forget everything that’s truly important. All I feel is chaos. For a half second I think about doing something stupid and telling him the truth about what I’m feeling. I mean, what I felt.

“Seth, I—”

From somewhere in the corner of the room, a buzzer sounds. Lights flash and a silvery screen pulls down from the ceiling.

“What’s that?” I shield my face from the tech on instinct.

“It’s okay.” Seth gently pulls down my hands. “It’s only a rival site. All that means is that
The Lighthouse
has another post.” He keeps his arms around me, and I feel his fingers press into the small of my back.

“The site that bashes Vestals?” I ask, trying not to view the screen. That means that I have to turn inward, toward Seth.

“You’ve heard of it?” Seth clicks a hand toward the visual, making it larger.

“I’d better be going.” I step away.

“Wait!” Seth tries to hold on. “Do you still have that white bike?” Seth points to pirated video from my photo shoot.

There I am, tooling around on Trevor’s motorcycle for the whole world to see! One of the Vestal Rejects on the camera crew must have betrayed me and uploaded the footage online. Jeremy better fire the culprit immediately.

“No,” I say. “That was for a photo shoot. So what?”

“So,” says Seth. “Maybe that’s something you might like to do sometime, for fun.”