How to Lead a Life of Crime (14 page)

“Poor kid,” Gwendolyn murmurs.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Didn’t you see? Lucas is in the bottom five.”

I’m not worried about Lucas. He’ll never jump.

• • •

The word
suicide
greets me when I enter Human Psychology. Our instructor, Mr. Davis, has just finished writing it on the blackboard at the front of the room. It’s fifth period, and the subject hasn’t been broached since breakfast. Here at the Mandel Academy, most people seem to move on with their lives with remarkable speed. But the seven other students in my class all flinch when they walk through the door. It’s like they’ve been greeted with a slap in the face. I noticed a few weeks back that the course was filled with bottom-ranking Androids. My fellow Wolves don’t need to learn these lessons.

I’ve been number one in Human Psychology since the first day of the semester. It’s easy to play along. Every time I’m asked a question in class, I imagine that human beings are just arrogant monkeys. We may think we’re superior because some of us love our children or believe in God. But every single belief we hold, food we crave, or mate we choose can be traced right back to the fight for survival. According to Mr. Davis, our lives have only one purpose: to pass our genes to the next generation and ensure the survival of our species.

Sometimes it’s fun to connect all the dots. Why do gentlemen prefer blondes? Well, before Clairol came along, blond hair was a sign of youth. And youth means fertility. And fertility means lots of offspring. And the more offspring, the better our species’ chance of survival. Ding, ding, ding! We’re all just monkeys!

But I’m not in the mood for games today. Mr. Davis has chosen the one subject I refuse to find funny.

“Why do some human beings commit suicide?” he asks. “Who can tell me?”

I know exactly what answer he wants to hear, but for once I’m not going to give it to him. There’s a longer-than-usual pause. We’ve taken a detour from the syllabus, and the Androids are unprepared.

“Depression?” someone ventures.

“Close,” the instructor says. “Flick?”

“The need for escape.”

Mr. Davis looks like a zookeeper who’s just been mauled by his favorite chimp. “No,” he snaps. “The sole cause of suicide is mental illness. It may come in a variety of forms—depression, substance abuse, or schizophrenia, to name just a few—but there’s always an illness behind the act. Not all flaws are evident from birth. Some remain hidden for years. Fortunately, evolution provided sickly brains with a self-destruct mechanism. Suicide is just another way that nature eliminates the weak from the gene pool.”

“Tell that to a samurai,” I growl. I promised myself I wouldn’t be reckless—but I won’t sit here and hold my tongue. I’m not going to let him convince these kids that Felix was defective.

“Excuse me?”

“In medieval Japan, the samurai saw suicide as a way to die with honor. A warrior would commit seppuku rather than fall into enemy hands.”

Mr. Davis nods as if I’ve made an excellent point. “If there was no hope of winning, then the enemy was superior. The act of seppuku may appear honorable, but the end result was the same. The weak died and the strong prevailed.”

I’m losing my touch. I should have seen that one coming. Even the samurai were chimps.

• • •

I nearly killed one of the lesser Wolves in Hand-to-Hand Combat. He shouldn’t have congratulated me on taking second place the day we started training with knives. It took the rest of the class to pull the two of us apart. I didn’t plan it in advance, but as it turns out, nearly slitting a fellow Wolf’s throat was a brilliant move. Gwendolyn seems convinced that I’m still angry about the rankings. I haven’t been thinking about them at all.

We’re in the Wolves’ Den, which is my new name for the tower lounge. Most of the pack went downstairs to dinner a few minutes ago. I have no interest in eating. Gwendolyn is here too. But I’m not in the mood for chitchat, so I lie down and pretend to nap.

“Flick,” Gwendolyn says. “I know you’re not asleep. And I know you think that you should be Dux.”

I open my eyes. She’s kneeling by my side. “And you’re telling me I’m wrong?” I ask. “I’m first in all of my classes. You’re second in two of yours. I thought there was a chance that some dark horse might beat me. But either way, the title should have changed hands.”

“Academics are only part of the equation, Flick. I tried to warn you. Mr. Mandel doesn’t believe that you’re ready to be Dux. He can’t counsel you in person right now, but he wants you to think about the reward you were promised. If you’re going to graduate, you’ll have to focus on that. Nothing else should matter while you’re here.”

My big reward. The proof of my father’s crime. It’s funny—I forgot all about it today. I’ve been running around trying to rescue Aubrey, who won’t even scream to help herself. Trying to defend a kid who’s already dead. Holding on to the memory of a girl I’ll never see again. Wondering how a person could love someone and still choose to leave them behind.

“Why you?” I ask Gwendolyn. “Why does Mandel think you deserve to be Dux?”

“Mr. Mandel knows that this school is all I have. Everything I care about is here.”

“Seriously? You don’t care about anyone out there? What about your mother? Don’t you miss her?”

Gwendolyn snorts. “When I was little, my mother spent more time at the bar down the street than she ever spent at home. She didn’t want to be with me, so what’s the point in missing her?”

She’s right. There’s no point at all.

I reach down and grab Gwendolyn by the waist. I lift her, and she’s as light as a doll. I lay her down on the divan and kiss her. I’m preparing to do much more than that when I hear someone else enter the room. I’m moving too fast to come to a sudden stop. When I do, I find Ivan leering at us.

“You’ve been watching?” Gwendolyn snarls, and Ivan knows he’s just stepped in it.

It’s an excellent opportunity to make a point. “Why don’t you head down to your room, Gwendolyn. I’ll meet up with you in a minute. I just need to have a quick chat with my old buddy Ivan.”

“Don’t get blood on the furniture,” she says, sounding perfectly serious. “If you have to kill him, do it out on the landing.”

When Ivan and I are alone, I spread myself across the divan.

“So do you see how things work around here?” I ask. “Do you see why you’ll want to stay on my good side?”

“Yes,” he says. And he does. I can tell.

“Then forget this morning ever happened. And get the hell out of this lounge. You’re not welcome back until I personally give you permission.”

“But I’m supposed to meet Caleb . . .”

“Screw Caleb,” I tell him. “This conversation is over.”

Ivan leaves, but I’m not in any rush to get back to Gwendolyn. I stay on the divan and close my eyes. Anything, anything. You have to do anything. Mandel was right when he said I’d lost focus. I came to the academy for the proof he promised. But he’s made it pretty clear that he’ll never let me graduate unless I want it enough to let Joi go.

After I found out about Felix, I spent the day wishing Joi was here. If she had been, I know I would have told her what happened to me and my family. The whole story—even the parts I try never to think about. And I might have felt a little bit better. But I don’t need to feel better. I need to grow the hell up.

Joi made me weak when I was around her. I’m not a Lost Boy, and I’m too old for a Wendy. But I want to remember her once before I let go. All I get is a faint whiff of jasmine before my dream’s interrupted. And then the last person I’ll love is gone for good.

• • •

“It’s not the way the system works!” Caleb’s voice grows louder as he scales the stairs to the tower. I can’t see him from where I’m lying. But more importantly, he can’t see me.

“You already lost your Beauty Pageant bet. What do you care who gets to go next?” Austin asks in his BBQ-and-Budweiser drawl.

“I just don’t understand why she’d stoop to spare a Ghost!”

“Aw, come on. You know why. She’s still trying to get into Flick’s pants, and he’s got a weird soft spot for that Aubrey girl.”

“More proof he’s a loser,” Caleb grumbles. “This whole situation is completely revolting. Someone should speak to Mr. Mandel.”

“Give it a week or so. You don’t know what Gwendolyn has in mind,” Austin argues. “Besides, if Flick ain’t had a piece yet, he must not like girls at all. Way I figure, things’ll probably be back to normal real soon.”

They’re in the lounge. They’ll see me any second now, so I better act fast.

“You’re right, Austin,” I declare as I stand up and unbuckle my belt. “I don’t like girls. I only have eyes for you. What are you now? Number 6? So drop your pants, bubba. You’ve been outranked. And considering the conversation I just overheard, you might not want to turn down number 2.”

It’s probably my imagination, but I think I detect a whimper.

“Flick, I, I . . .” For a future politician, Austin isn’t too good at thinking on his feet.

“Were you really just questioning Gwendolyn’s decisions?” I ask Caleb. “And threatening to take your complaints to Mandel? Do you think you know better than Gwendolyn does?”

“No, of course not!” Caleb insists. “It’s just . . .”

“Just what? As far as I can tell, the system you’re so fond of works like this: you do what the Dux tells you to do, and you keep your mouth shut. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Caleb admits.

“Then don’t forget it again.” I head for the door.

“Where are you going?” Austin asks nervously.

“Gotta answer a booty call,” I tell him. “Let’s hope Gwendolyn doesn’t get all chatty when we’re finished.”

I don’t think I’ll rat them out right away. I have no idea what the consequences might be if Gwendolyn knew what I just heard. But Austin and Caleb do, and I really enjoy seeing them sweat.

I head downstairs to the ninth-floor balcony and start searching for an excuse to go somewhere other than Gwendolyn’s room. I lean over the railing. At the bottom of the atrium, the last traces of Felix have finally been scrubbed away. Lucas is standing one floor below me, surveying the very same scene. I should give him the good news about Aubrey, so I hop on the elevator and beg it to be as quiet as possible.

“Bad day for both of us,” Lucas remarks once I’m standing beside him.

“And a worse one for Felix.”

“I’m not so sure about that. At least he’s free.” Lucas looks over at me. “You’ll get used to it. A couple of Ghosts kill themselves every semester.”

“Every semester? Why so many?”

“I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out.”

“I heard you’re in the bottom five.” Might as well get the subject out of the way. “I’m sorry. If you need any help on the outside . . .”

“I won’t. And you don’t need to pity me, Flick. I’d rather be number fifty-two than number two,” he says. “Gwendolyn’s going to own you now.”

I lower my voice to a whisper. “She’s not as bad as you think. I just heard that Gwendolyn talked Mandel into sparing Aubrey.”

Lucas’s eyes narrow. “Sparing her?”

“From being expelled.”

“Well, I know Ivan will be thrilled to hear that Aubrey’s staying.”

“I’ll be watching out for her while she’s here,” I tell him.

“Oh yeah? And what if the Wolves decide to go after you? You never considered that, did you? I bet you think you’re safe now that you’re the queen’s favorite boy.” Lucas pauses for a dramatic sigh. “Oh well, I suppose while you’re watching Aubrey’s back, I’ll just have to watch yours.”

I feel a flash of annoyance. “What makes you think I need your help? You’re number fifty-two. Maybe you should focus on saving your own ass, Lucas. Why waste your time on me?”

“Good question. Well, we can’t call it altruism, can we? I remember learning in Human Psychology that there’s no such thing. So let’s just say that I’m acting in my own self-interest. I’m trying to save my species.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I demand, just as one of the elevators stops on our floor.

“Looks like you’ve got a visitor,” Lucas says. “Give her my love.” I can see Gwendolyn’s pale hair through the gates. She’s come to collect me. By the time I turn to say goodbye, Lucas is already back in his room.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE WATCHER BY NIGHT

T
his must have been how the world appeared to the gods on Olympus. The greatest city on earth lies thirty-two stories below, and it’s nothing more than a miniature model. Little toy cars race around the grid. Battery-powered boats putter up the Hudson River. Maybe there are people down there as well, but they’re so tiny that they’re completely invisible.

I’m alone on a terrace that circles a palatial Tribeca penthouse. I don’t expect any company out here. The other guests will stay inside where the air is warm and the cocktails are cold. Despite the frigid weather, I’m more comfortable observing the others from a distance. The apartment’s walls are glass, and the owners haven’t bothered to hang curtains or shades. You don’t need to worry about privacy when you live this high up in the clouds.

The graduates of the Mandel Academy convene once a month, and the Dux has a standing invitation to join them. Attendance seems a bit sparse tonight. My guess is the guests are all Mandel’s supporters. I know for a fact that the head of the opposition is absent. When Gwendolyn asked me to escort her, she assured me that my father would not be attending the party. Turns out she’s on a first-name basis with everyone here. I recognize some of the guests, but every one of them knows me. Apparently they’ve been following my rise. A few seem to have been doing much more than that. Earlier in the evening, the head of some mutual fund pulled me aside and told me he’s rooting for me. And he made it pretty clear that he knows exactly what it will mean if I win.

I chatted with various alumni for over an hour, and I could feel my hair standing on end the whole time. Then I realized why they gave me the creeps. They look, speak, and chew their hors d’oeuvres just like humans. But they’re nothing like the rest of us. Not anymore. They live in a world where their toilets magically clean themselves. Wrinkle-free clothes appear in their closets. Everyone jumps at the chance to do them all favors. Nothing but flattery and praise ever reaches their ears. There aren’t any problems that their checkbooks can’t solve. And it all seems perfectly normal because everyone they know belongs to the same elite club.

What would it be like to exist in a world without suffering? To have no needs, only desires? To be surrounded by so much beauty that you forget how ugly life is for everyone else? Who wouldn’t want that? Who wouldn’t be willing to fight for it? Whatever the alumni did to get here—lie, cheat, steal, kill—I’m sure they’d all say it was worth it. And I bet they sleep soundly because they know that their nameless, faceless victims would have done the same thing.

Mandel has taught me the secret of the alumni’s success. You have to be willing to pay any price. The gates to this paradise won’t open unless you offer a sacrifice to the gods who dwell here. And they only want the things you cherish the most. Your freedom, your honor, or your soul. Whatever those people inside the penthouse gave up, they don’t seem to miss it anymore. But I’m just through the gates, and I can’t help but look back. Joi’s out there somewhere. And part of me is still with her.

A burst of canned laugher draws my eyes back toward the party. Gwendolyn is entertaining three captains of industry who’ve been celebrating a victory. Earlier, I overheard one of them discussing “the company’s” plans to move forward with the launch of a product called Exceletrex now that a certain Illinois congressman has decided to call off the dogs. The “little people,” it appears, no longer have a voice. Representative Sheehan must have had something scandalous stored on his cell phone. And I may have been the one who told the Mandel alumni where to look. I suppose they’d have found it anyway.

I see Gwendolyn scanning the room for me. The Mandel Academy’s golden duo should never be far apart. The dorms reek of hormones and secret sex, but we’re the school’s only true couple. The Prince and Princess of Vice. In September, Gwendolyn may be leaving the academy and heading to Harvard. She wants her prince to join her if Mandel lets me graduate. I haven’t made any promises. Gwendolyn is brilliant and beautiful, but I don’t love her—and I’m not going to try. I’m with her because Mandel forced me to surrender. All my good things are gone. Vengeance is the only thing keeping me alive.

Gwendolyn finally spots me on the terrace and excuses herself. From this distance, she resembles a young Grace Kelly. She’s wearing a low-cut black dress with butterfly sleeves. Her hair is swept up, and a diamond choker circles her throat. The wind catches her dress when she steps outdoors. For a second I think that she might float away, but Gwendolyn is a lot more solid than she looks.

“Come back inside before you freeze,” she says.

“Give me another minute,” I tell her. “I haven’t had any fresh air in months.”

She joins me at the edge of the terrace and rests her head on my shoulder while she snuggles against my side for warmth. “I love it up here,” she says.

“Do you remember being down there at the bottom?” I ask. Or have you already become one of them?

“Feeling nostalgic?” Gwendolyn teases.

“Not at all,” I say. “But I’m not sure I want to forget.”

“You won’t. We all leave our old lives behind, but we never forget. I’ve been at Mandel for three years now, and I haven’t forgotten a thing. I still remember growing up in an apartment that was half the size of my room at the academy. I remember that my mother was usually high by noon and my father only showed up when he felt like punching her. I wore the same clothes to school every day, and the other kids said that I stank up the class. I ate every bite of my free lunch because I knew dinner would probably be cat food. It was the only thing my mom could afford after she traded her food stamps for liquor. And you know what? Not one single person down there ever bothered to help me. So I decided to help myself.” When Gwendolyn faces me, she’s no longer a girl. She’s a furious beast. “I won’t forget, Flick. Because I want to remember to treat them the way they all treated me.”

“No one helped you?” She must think I’m surprised, but I’m not. Other than Jude, Joi, and my mother, only two people ever tried to help me. Neither tried very hard. And both failed in the end.

“You know what kind of creatures they are down there.” Gwendolyn sneers as though the whole species revolts her. “They’d be like us if they could, but they’re too stupid and weak. So they just sit on their couches, watching crappy reality shows and stuffing their fat faces. They know that, right down the street, some little girl could be eating cat food for dinner. Or maybe it’s a boy being beaten to pulp. But the worthless slobs couldn’t care less.”

“Not all of them are like that.”

“Yeah, I know your last girlfriend was a saint,” Gwendolyn snaps.

“I was talking about my brother,” I lie. “Besides, you’re not as hard and heartless as you pretend to be. I found out what you did for Aubrey. I heard you kept her from being expelled.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes narrow. She’s annoyed that I know. “How did you find out?”

“I just did.”

“Well, she’s beyond all help now. Mandel told me it would be a waste of time. And he was right. I stuck my neck out, and Aubrey never even tried.” Gwendolyn’s fury quickly cools. “But just so you know, I didn’t do it for her. I did it because I love you.”

I’m not going anywhere near those last three words. “You did it for me?”

“First that kid jumped. And then I beat you in the rankings. I was worried that one more thing might make you lose sight of what’s most important.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I assure her.

“I’m not talking about your father. I’m talking about this.” She sweeps a hand through the sky. “I’ve been Dux for two years, and you’ll take the title next semester. That means when we graduate, we’ll get the best jobs. We’ll earn more money than anyone else. This world will be ours, Flick. Yours and mine. Just think of what we’ll be able to do with it.”

I don’t want it. I would never have traded Joi for this. But everyone has his price, and Mandel found mine. All I want is the proof that my father killed Jude. The headmaster probably thinks he got a hell of a deal.

“I can’t see that far into the future,” I tell Gwendolyn. Why even try? There’s nothing there.

“You better start looking,” she says. “Those people inside are all behind you. I’m behind you. There’s no way you’re going to fail.”

• • •

Lucas has been dogging me all day. He must have seen me leaving for the party last night, and he knew who would be on my arm. He just won’t accept that I’ve lost the battle. He doesn’t realize that I surrendered so I’d be able to keep fighting a war. From the moment I failed to win the Dux title, he’s been waging his own whispering campaign against Gwendolyn.
How much do you really know about her? What does she want from you?
To be honest, he’s become a real bore. I don’t care what the truth is as long as Gwendolyn continues to help me. He should know I’m in no position to pick my allies, and war is never pretty. FDR had to team up with Stalin to trounce the Nazis. George Washington turned to a decadent French king when he wanted to make America a democracy. Who the hell is Lucas to question my tactics? As far as I know, he may just be bitter because he got dumped.

Curfew is a few minutes away, and Lucas is waiting for me on the balcony outside our rooms. I’d head back up to the lounge, but he’s already waving me over.

“If this is about Gwendolyn, I’m not interested,” I tell him.

“It’s Aubrey,” he croaks.

“Aubrey?” I’m starting to feel a bit nauseous.

“She’s gone, Flick. They’ve stripped her bed and cleaned out her room.”

“She’s been expelled? But Gwendolyn . . .”

“Aubrey wasn’t expelled. She was here on the eighth floor last night. But she didn’t make it to breakfast this morning, so I came up to see if she was okay. Her room was already empty. Whatever happened went down after curfew.”

“Was Ivan involved?” If he hurt Aubrey, it’s all my fault. I was supposed to be watching him, and I let down my guard.

Lucas shakes his head. “Unless he broke curfew, he wouldn’t have had time to do anything. Besides, Ivan would have ambushed her, and I think Aubrey knew that she was in some kind of trouble. She left a note for you. She slipped it under my door a few minutes before lockdown.”

“Why didn’t she slip it under my door?”

“You weren’t here,” Lucas says pointedly. And you should have been. “She probably thought someone else might find it first.”

“Well, where’s the note?” I demand.

“Not out here on the balcony where someone could see us,” he says. “Come back to my room. But remember—be careful what you say.”

Lucas’s room is a mirror image of mine. Except for an artwork that’s pinned to the wall. It’s one of those old-fashioned travel posters that lured early jet-setters to exotic lands. In this case, the fabled city of Los Angeles. The image shows a Sunshine Airways plane gliding over a pristine blue ocean while two bathing beauties in floppy hats and movie star glasses wave from the beach. I suddenly know Lucas’s real name. I know why he’s here. And I have no idea why he’d have that poster on his wall.

I was still in military school when his picture hit the papers. His was one of those stories that makes the whole world choose sides. And I knew whose side I was on. Eleven years ago, at the age of six, the kid I know as Lucas boarded a flight out of Los Angeles. The airplane crashed into the ocean shortly after takeoff. He was one of ten people who survived. His parents and sister died. An investigation determined that the airline was at fault. The company’s new CEO had cut costs by firing 30 percent of the employees. There weren’t enough mechanics left to inspect the planes, and the boss had encouraged the ones who remained to falsify maintenance reports. The plane that Lucas and his family were on should never have been in the air. Two hundred and six people perished—and no one was ever punished.

Ten years passed, and an anonymous hacker took control of Sunshine Airline’s computer systems. Flights were grounded. Hundreds of thousands of people were stranded all over the globe. The airline’s stock price plunged. The hacker responsible clearly intended to put the company out of business. I don’t think he expected the chaos to claim lives. One of the grounded flights was delivering organs for transplant. The patients waiting for them died when their new hearts didn’t arrive on time.

Most people were certain it was a terrorist plot. Then the police located the hacker in Ohio. It was a sixteen-year-old kid in a foster home. He’d done it all with a homemade computer and a dial-up Internet connection.

“You’re the hacker,” I mutter.

“I knew you’d figure it out. That’s why I never invite anyone in,” Lucas says. “That poster was here the day I moved up from the Incubation Suites. They put it there to remind me.” Just like Aubrey’s teddy bear, I now realize. And the yearbook page with Jude’s picture that I keep in my desk drawer.

“You didn’t need to hide your identity from me,” I tell him. “I always thought you were a hero.”

“For a while, I did too,” Lucas says. “And then Gwendolyn took me to an alumni party at some swanky Tribeca apartment. It was the same night she gave me the boot. But before she broke my little heart, she introduced me to the former CEO of Sunshine Airlines. Turns out, he’s a Mandel alum. He called me ‘son’ and told me he had no hard feelings.”

I imagine what it must have been like to stand face-to-face with the man who might as well have murdered your family. “What did you do?”

“I turned around and left the party,” Lucas said.

“You left?” I feel my respect for Lucas crumbling. “Why didn’t you take the bastard out to the terrace and push him over the side?”

“Because that’s what they wanted me to do. If I’d killed the guy, they’d have won. I’d have been just like the rest of them. But the thing that really scared me was that I was already halfway there.”

I’m trying to make sense of the statement when Lucas hands me the note Aubrey left. “It’s getting close to curfew. We can swap stories some other day.”

The paper has been folded three times. My name is scrawled on the outside. A few seconds ago, my mind was bursting with questions I couldn’t wait to ask Lucas. Now I can’t remember a single one of them.