Chapter Fifteen

 

The next morning, I’m up early for filming. Pero, there isn’t enough coffee in the worlds to have prepared me for what Minda’s telling me. And I forget about my plan to talk to Jimena and Kaliel.

Zantites make these jelly sweets, with sort-of seahorses in the middle, a crunchy savory-sweet treat that looks like a niño’s ball. I’ve never eaten one – mainly because of the human-ish face and needle teeth. And because those seahorses are bottom-feeders.

After all, we’d found one chewing on the bones that we thought might have been Kaliel.

I swallow against a suddenly dry throat. “You want me to make what?”

“Prakk.”

“No, por favor.” I’ve done whatever Minda wanted thus far, and I agreed to do this surprise episode – which is obviously my graduation exam. We’re backstage and I can already hear the audience out there, murmuring. There’s no time to change Minda’s plan without embarrassing her. And no point, if they’ve already steamed the sea creatures, with their bright blue eyes. Unless she’s planning that as the audience participation part. Dios mio, please not that. “It doesn’t even contain chocolate.”

I sound desperate, even to myself.

“Relax.” Minda takes me by both shoulders. “You know I’m not cruel. I talked with… well, with your school – and they’re OK if we replace the grepiskks with chocolate containing crisped grain and seaweed. I just need you to use edible nanites to create some kind of spectacular effect.”

“Something worthy of a graduation exam?”

Minda laughs. “Something like that. I got the idea for this project from Earth’s chocolate turtles.”

My eyes go wide. Chocolate turtles were a pre-HGB candy made of pecans and caramel. The pecans were arranged to give the impression of feet and a head inside a round caramel patty covered with chocolate. Even after all the independent chocolate producers crashbombed, the flavor combination was still popular, so even without the shape, the chocolate, caramel and pecan goodies are still called turtles. “You’ve done your history research.”

Minda shrugs. “I’m not as ditzy as everyone thinks.”

I shake mi cabeza so hard my chunky white earrings brush arcs on my neck. “Nobody thinks that, nunca.”

Minda dabs at her lipstick. “You should see some of the questions I get from my fan club.” She points to a group at the top left of the stands, wearing blue shirts with individual letters plastered on them, that collectively spell, We HEART Minda.

In English.

Which means they’re trying to interact with the people watching this on Earth. Which feels like progress.

They’ve spelled out the word heart.

“The core members all came out for the special episode.”

Which means everybody’s here – except Kayla. She wouldn’t miss this, not if she had any choice.

Minda and I discussed it.

Kaliel’s been keeping to himself, saying he’s tired after his ordeal. Pero, when pressed, he’s admitted he’s still heard nada about his hermosa.

Even though Kayla’s parents are refusing to report her officially missing, we’re going to make an appeal at the end of this show for mi amiga to contact us. Her parents are OK with that, as long as we only use her first name and don’t FeedCast her picture. Kayla hadn’t even told them she was going to be on the show, and they seemed more upset about that than anything.

Why aren’t they doing everything in their power to find their daughter?

They don’t seem to believe she’s in danger. Maybe, secretly, she’s reached out to them – though they keep saying nada, nunca.

I follow Minda out onto the set.

Minda smiles at the audience, and it’s magnified on holos that pop up right in front of the stands. My family’s all there, right in the front row, and when mi littlest hermana Sophia sees that razor-toothed grin, she screams and dives into Isabella’s arms. Isabella’s all of fourteen years old and she looks terrified herself. She’s always been the shyest of my siblings.

Frank thought this was going to be una buena idea? I look for him to give him an I-told-you-so smirk, pero he’s not here. My heart jumps.

I can’t remember having seen Jimena today.

Frank had insisted he wanted to “talk” to her, even after I asked him to back off.

Could he be interrogating her right now? Or burying her?

A dog barks, and I look over to find Botas sitting in the seat next to Mamá. I thought Frank and that corgi were inseparable. Botas opens his mouth, lolls out a happy tongue.

My stomach clenches as ice tickles my spine.

“Oye.” I try to say it quietly, pero Minda gives me a questioning glance. I gesture with my chin for her to address the cameras.

“Who’s ready to learn how to make chocolate grepiskks?” Minda’s looking straight at her fan club, who are cheering the loudest. “Today’s skill tip is how to keep crispy inclusions crisp, while pouring chocolate into a mold.”

Minda really has thought this through, pero I can’t concentrate. I use my sublingual to call Jimena. She answers on the first ring, as though expecting my call. At the sound of her voice, a ball of worry inside me collapses.

Hola, Bo. Lo siento I’m late. I’ve been having coffee with this fascinating older gentleman–

The worry’s back, kneeling on my chest. I force a breath. Is his name Frank?

To someone on the connection’s other end, she says, Bo knows you.

I force my hands to uncurl themselves from fists. He said he wanted to talk to her. Maybe that’s all this is. Can you put him on the phone, por favor?

I guess. Jimena sounds confused.

When he comes on the line, I ask, Well? Does she get to live?

Frank laughs, like this isn’t serious at all. So far, the results are inconclusive.

I’m not doing this with you again, viejo. You start threatening people, and I’ll be on the next ship off this rock.

This has nothing to do with your mother. I’m not the kind to cheat. In other words, he’s not trying to leverage anybody to get me to do what he wants.

In the background, I hear Jimena squeak, You’re seeing someone?

“Bo?” Minda says, and I get the idea it’s not the first time.

I gotta go. Don’t do anything rash. I wonder if Frank gets as strong of a sense of déjà vu as I just did. Por favor.

I mean it, though. I’m willing to leverage myself – leverage Earth – to keep from winding up in the middle of HGB’s web again.

Minda’s fan club has made their way down from the stands. There’s only so much room at the prep table, and one of the guys nips at one of the girls, pushing her out of the way as she cradles her bleeding elbow.

Minda turns back to the audience. “And while they’re working, they’ll be serenaded by our special guest, Verex Kowlk.”

The crowd goes loco.

Tyson’s in the back row, looking broody and lethal and unimpressed.

Verex comes out, a squatty, barrel-like instrument in his hand. He plays a few electronic chords, and the fan club girl forgets about her bloody elbow, which Brill is trying to patch up for her. She swoons in mi vida’s arms, dragging him to the floor with her weight.

Brill’s eyes are violet. He’s not hurt.

I launch into teacher-mode and get these fan clubbers working on their project. Verex starts singing, and half my volunteers stop working to watch. I sigh. This is going to be a long show.

I motivate them the best I can, then I step over to the workstation where I must program the nanites. The culinary curriculum I’d been a part of on Larksis 9 brings together an eclectic set of skills necessary for coping in an inter-planetary kitchen. In addition to working with unfamiliar food, we’d studied linguistics, diplomacy, first aid – and coding, which is my weakest area. Fortunately, I can use the bits and swatches of code I’ve pulled together for different assignments – my entire school archive has been downloaded onto this laptop – as long as I string them together to create something new. The image of prakk as a child’s ball has given me an idea for a carousel, where the balls bounce up and down and change colors to the tune of one of Minda’s songs.

A slow breath moves my hair. Brill is standing behind me, watching. He is so curious by nature, so intently enamored with being alive and every possibility that brings.

“You forgot to close your brackets.” Brill is a whizz with code.

“Gracias.”

“De nada, Babe.”

It suddenly embarrasses me, him watching my clumsy work. Especially after he corrects me a couple more times. Which saves me hours of debugging – which I don’t have – but still makes me feel estúpido. Another camera drone’s following something occuring on the other side of the kitchen. “What’s Minda doing, mi vida?”

“She said the audience needs something to watch while you’re staring at a computer screen.”

The fan club’s done, the molds with the mock sea creatures are all chilling, and Verex is sitting in the audience next to my sisters – who seem to have gotten over their fear of him. Isabella’s even playing a game with him that involves touching hands and making shapes with their fingers. And yes, Tawny’s making sure the cameras are capturing that, from several different angles.

“Pero what is Minda actually doing?”

Kaliel’s in the prep kitchen, chopping up some of that sticky glowing fruit, and it’s not for anything I’m working on.

Brill points out another failed bracket close on my screen. “She’s determined to make a proper cake. Didn’t you hear her tell the audience that this is her graduation exam too?”

“No, mi vida. Unlike some people, coding takes every bit of my concentration.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder, brings his face even closer to my hair. “But you’re doing an amazing job. I never would have thought of bringing some of these elements together.”

“Pero I keep making mistakes.”

“La, everybody makes coding mistakes. Fixing them’s just rote patience. It’s the creativity behind it that’s hard.”

Heat floods my face. I turn back to the screen and try to work faster. It still feels like forever before I can simcheck it, and another eternity before I can eject the tubes of prepared biodegradable nanites.

Jimena should be preparing the jelly that will hold the whole thing together, pero Valeria got pressed into doing it. The pots are all lined up, and there are quick tape-strip labels in neat hand-lettered Spanish detailing the flavors in each one. If she wasn’t already so skilled as a stylist, I’d offer her Jimena’s job.

Minda pops her cake in the oven, and together, me, Minda and Valeria get everything molded and prepped. Then Minda declares an intermission while everything sets – and the FeedCast rolls Verex Kowlk’s first – and so far, only – film. About half the audience sits raptly watching the holoproduction. Everyone else starts milling around, heading for the bathrooms, or going outside to find some actual food.