Unplugged (28 page)

He nodded. They let go of each other's hands.

Lacy turned to me. “I know we've never been friends, Skylar, but I was worried about you, too. I didn't mean to betray you.”

I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say.

Lacy settled into her seat again, facing front.

No one else spoke.

People had died tonight, and I had killed them.

I'd come to the Real World with so many hopes.

But now I was a murderer.

A war had begun tonight.

And truly, I was in the middle of it.

They woke me when we reached the ocean.

One by one, we stumbled from the van.

I went to the Keeper and, wordlessly, threw my arms around her. “I didn't know if I'd see you again.”

Her arms tightened around me. “I was so worried about you.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you.”

We let each other go and started toward the path in the dunes. Rain waited for us at the top.

“It isn't your fault,” she said as we walked. “This is much bigger than you, Skye. I'm sorry you're caught in it.”

“We all are,” I said. “Aren't we?”

She nodded. Then the Keeper took off to join the others.

I met Rain at the top of the dune and saw the long, curving stretch of beach ahead. I thought about Inara and me on our last virtual day together when she'd landed us by the ocean and the sand. I remembered the tiny sailboats and our race to the island. I remembered how exhilarated I was to be swimming. It was only a couple of months ago now, but it seemed like a hundred years. So much had happened since then. So many terrible things. One last time, I turned to look at the faint outline of skyscrapers in the distance, stretching up toward the sun. The city we'd fled.

But it was only for now. We'd be back.

There was so much more to come.

“Skye,” Rain said. “We should go.”

I nodded. “You go catch up to the others. I'll follow in a minute. I need some time alone.”

“Okay,” he said, a little reluctantly.

But then he left.

I watched Rain walk away, pick up his pace until it became a jog and he joined the group, fitting himself between Adam and Lacy. I descended the dune and didn't stop until my toes met the ocean. Then I walked deeper and deeper, and when the water had risen all the way up to my waist I dove into the sea.

The idea for this novel goes all the way back to a wonderful Descartes lecture given by Tony Dardis, a professor and colleague from Hofstra University, on Descartes'
Meditations on First Philosophy
, for a funky great books-like course we sometimes team teach (with many other profs) at the Honors College there. I feel indebted to my time teaching at Hofstra for sparking so many of the big questions that have inspired my thinking and the ideas in this novel (and subsequent novels in the trilogy), and to Warren Frisina, the dean of the Honors College, for having me teach in this wonderful program.

I am grateful for the careful attention and editorial feedback (and the perseverance!) of Tara Weikum, my editor at Harper, for whom I feel so much gratitude, not to mention a slight bit of jealousy since a lot of her editing took place in Hawaii. Everyone at Harper who has worked on and supported
Unplugged
, especially Ro Romanello, Elizabeth Ward, Joey Jachowski, Andrea Pappenheimer,
and the marketing, sales, and production teams (especially design!), who have made this process so much fun. I am also grateful to Sarah Barley for all her time and editorial feedback on
Unplugged
during the time when she was still at Harper.

And as always, I want to thank my friends and fellow writers for their input, feedback, and moral support as I've worked on this novel, most especially: Rebecca Stead (for our magic lunch, when what was one novel suddenly turned into a trilogy), Marie Rutkoski, Daphne Grab, Eliot Schrefer, Cheryl Klein, and Alvina Ling. My agent, Miriam Altshuler, is the best, best, best and always has been, and this book wouldn't exist (it really, really wouldn't) without her ongoing support and commitment to me as her author and to all the work that I do. Y, por supuesto a Daniel Matus, la persona que vivió este proceso desde el principio, en este lado del Atlántico y en Barcelona, para tu apoyo y amor y un montón de conversaciones mientras bebíamos vino español, siempre estaré agradecido.

Keep reading for a glimpse at

THE BODY MARKET
,

the sequel to

UNPLUGGED.

Nature teaches me that my own body is surrounded by many other bodies, some of which I have to seek after, and others to shun. And indeed, as I perceive different sorts of colors, sounds, odors, tastes, heat, hardness, etc., I safely conclude that . . . some are agreeable, and others disagreeable, [and] there can be no doubt that my body, or rather my entire self, in as far as I am composed of body and mind, may be variously affected, both beneficially and hurtfully, by surrounding bodies.

—René Descartes,

“Of the Existence of Material Things and of the Real Distinction Between the Mind and Body of Man,”

Meditations on First Philosophy
(1641)

I ADJUSTED THE
scarf around my head.

Only my eyes were visible.

I stepped into the crush of tourists heading inside. A great canopy stretched over us, blocking out the cold winter sun. The floor was polished marble, and it shined so clean and new it was slick as ice. To my right, people emerged from the lobby of the tall, glittering hotel, with its carefully trimmed topiaries lining the entrance.

All around me were voices.

They were speaking in languages I didn't understand. I wished for an App to translate what they were saying and then almost laughed. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Apps were a part of everyday life. An entire world
away from the one I was in now. Literally.

I concentrated on the man next to me as we inched forward under the canopy. He held the hand of a woman, maybe his wife. They were nearly the same height, both shorter than me, their hair black as ink, their eyes slanted. I listened to the sounds coming from their mouths, their accents, the tonal cadence of their words. Even with all my gaming and paying attention in Real World History, I couldn't translate the meaning, but with a little effort I could recognize the language.

They were speaking Japanese.

I listened to the others milling around me now, all of us trying to get closer to the reason we'd all come. In the span of five minutes I heard a total of seven different languages. First there were the young men speaking in French, and then a large group shuffling along whispering to one another in Chinese. There was the tall blond couple talking intimately in Dutch, and another nearly shouting in Spanish. I heard snatches of Italian but I couldn't tell from which direction they'd come, and the same went for the female voice talking in German. Even more languages swirled in the air around me that I couldn't quite place.

People had dressed for the occasion.

Many of the women had chosen smart skirted suits, spindly heels on their feet and lavish thick coats to protect them from the cold, jewels drooping from their ears. But there were also a few in colorful saris and even
more with veils that revealed only their eyes. The men seemed to have coordinated with one another, deciding to don formal black suits and boxy wool coats. The world's wealthiest had spared no expense, traveling far and wide for this momentous occasion. My flight from the ball and the fire had certainly made a dent in my sister's plans, but in the end it had only delayed the inevitable. I tried not to think too much about the price that had been paid that night.

Moving forward was all that mattered.

That's why I was here.

Rain didn't think it should be me. He thought that it was too dangerous given my relationship to this place and its founder. But it was because of that relationship that it needed to be me. And then, Rain wasn't high on my list of trusted advisers at the moment. He'd hidden the truth about my sister, and he'd openly lied about Lacy.

He didn't get to tell me what to do anymore.

I wasn't here for him. Not for
his
battle.

I was here for
mine
. I wanted to see for myself the fate I'd so narrowly escaped.

The full extent of the exhibits was a winding labyrinth that covered entire city blocks and extended down, down, down under the earth. The tourists were anxious to get started, excited for the preview they'd been promised. The priciest merchandise trotted out and featured to entice and seduce, the rest of it stored away in
the underground caverns, waiting and ready. An entire city's worth of goods. We shuffled along together, slowly moving forward in the line. Some people had their heads buried in a map, trying to pinpoint where we were in relation to the various displays.

Finally, we rounded the corner.

At the end of the aisle, someone had constructed a dais made of gleaming white marble. A set of stairs covered in lush red carpet led up to the star attraction. People stood within the space marked out by velvet ropes to get a closer look. I got in the back, and soon dozens more tourists took their places behind me. Slowly, we snaked our way through the maze. At least thirty minutes passed before I reached the bottom of the staircase. By now I could see the ends of the long glass box. It was illuminated from the inside. Everything around it was dark, so as to highlight the preciousness of its contents.

Step by step, eventually I was next.

The two tourists ahead of me—a man and a woman speaking Chinese—talked excitedly as they strode forward. I watched as they circled the box, whispering, pointing things out to each other. They glanced back at me and nodded, just before funneling through the velvet ropes toward the exit.

Then it was my turn.

I stepped up to the box and forced myself to look long and hard at what lay before me.

At
who
.

Jude was trying to punish me for my escape.

And she'd done an excellent job.

I pressed my hands against the glass, even though the sign warned me not to. I took in the delicate limbs, the elegant fingers painted a pale pink for the occasion. The way the chest gently rose and fell, shifting the covering that lay across the lower and upper halves of the body. Lips painted red and eyes closed peacefully. Long blond hair fell across the forehead and down along the shoulders and arms, curled and impeccably styled to show off its lustrous shine. The skin was smooth and unblemished, or nearly so.

A tiny scar curved underneath the elbow.

You had to know it was there to see it.

You had to know it was there to even look.

I stared at the body of Inara, my best friend since I was small, on display for all the world to see.

To admire. To envy.

To covet and to buy.

Trader had failed in his attempt to help her escape, and soon Inara would be sold to the highest bidder.

The Body Market was open for business.

Photo credit Allen Murabayashi

DONNA FREITAS
is the author of many young adult novels, including
The Possibilities of Sainthood, The Survival Kit
, and
Gold Medal Summer.
Donna is also a professor at Fairleigh Dickinson's MFA program and at Hofstra's Honors College. Her nonfiction book
The Happiness Effect
happens to be based on research about young adults and social media. Donna lives in Brooklyn, where she likes to spend most of her time unplugged. You can visit her online at
www.donnafreitas.com
.

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