Anna was sitting across from me at a corner booth in Sunset Diner, jabbing a piece of blackberry pie like she was trying to murder it.
When she wasn’t butchering the pie, she interrogated me in staccato bursts. I had to admit, her annoyance and suspicion made a lot of sense. I’d thrown up on her shoes, “stolen” Clyde from her, and said he sort of sucked at his own tribute show.
Also, I was currently busy turning Clyde into Hugo. But Anna didn’t know that part. And if everything worked out, she never would.
“How did you find me?” I asked her.
A skinny young waiter swung by just then, refilling our water glasses. He was coming by our table a lot. Whenever he did, he’d offer a feeble joke, and a pink flush would creep up the collar of his white shirt as he looked at me.
Anna made a disgruntled face whenever he dropped by. Now, she couldn’t seem to decide whether she should scowl at him or me. As a result, she looked sort of constipated.
“I … followed you,” she told me stiffly. “I saw you at the bus stop at the Night Market, so I got on. Anyways, that isn’t the point of this conversation.”
I’d barely touched my own pie. Ever since we got back to the Entertainment District, Anna had been asking me questions, rapid-fire. From the edge of Amaris to the bus stop to sitting down at this booth, she’d been relentless.
Why did I get off at the waiting station? What was the deal with the raven? Where did I get my bracelet from?
I didn’t see how the last question was relevant to her interrogation, unless she was trying to figure out what places I shopped at. This one, a green jade bracelet with a silver tiger clasp, was surely something I’d haggled for at the Night Market. I told her which vendor had them, and she immediately made a note of it on her phone.
“Do you remember where the stall was?” she asked, brows creasing. “Do they have any more of them?”
Anna had been determined enough to stalk me to the edge of the island. She’d been complaining and asking about me at the Institute too. I knew it would’ve been worse to avoid her. I had to play it nice, sort of.
I tried to think of which vendor might have something like my bracelet. Probably any of them that imported goods from East Asia.
Anna took a long sip of her water, then narrowed her eyes at me. “Actually, never mind. Where were you on the night of Clyde’s accident?”
I was saved from a response by the waiter, who came by with my order of scallion pancakes. The only other diner patrons—an older Downhill couple in leather jackets—looked at the clock and rolled their eyes. They’d been waiting for their orders for a while, but the waiter was always busy at our table.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” our waiter said. His yellow pencil hovered over the order pad. His eyes lingered on me hopefully.
“We’re set,” Anna said firmly.
“Oh,” he said, stuttering. “I didn’t realize you two were on a date.”
For some reason, Anna turned beet red. “We’re not,” she snapped.
I couldn’t blame him for asking. We would be a cute couple if this was a date. But it was definitely more of an interrogation.
As soon as he walked away, she leaned in, elbows squeaking against the white Formica table. I squirmed in the vinyl booth, trying to think of an answer to satisfy her. I ate a bite of hot, crispy pancake, licking the grease off my fingers.
“Do you want some of this?” I asked.
“No,” Anna said, looking away. “And you can save your excuses too. I know you saw Clyde on the night of the accident.”
I forked a bite of pie and popped it in my mouth. Ripe blackberries burst on my tongue, both sweet and tart. The consistency of the pie was perfect—not too moist or dry. It was flawlessly baked.
“How do you know that?” I asked, as casually as I could.
“One of Clyde’s friends said he was meeting someone that night and seemed pretty excited about it.”
Excited? That two-timer had suspected that I had something to do with the Cog Lab and had stalked me to his own death.
“It could’ve been anyone. How do you know it was me?”
Anna’s scowl deepened. “This guy said Clyde was meeting up with some muscular babe. Some tall, muscular babe.”
My throat felt suddenly dry. People were starting to talk about me—which was the very thing both Father and Penny had warned me about. Clyde’s friends had mentioned me in passing. Maybe Clyde had even let some of his suspicions about me slip.
If that had happened, I was doomed.
“Did he say anything else?” I asked, as evenly as I could manage.
“Should he have?” Anna countered.
Damn. She would not give me one inch.
I wiped my hands on my ruined pants. Running after the wrong raven to the edge of Amaris tonight had not been the best idea. Anna certainly looked worse for wear too, between her ripped matching set and undone braids. I didn’t even think she was capable of getting messy like that.
It was late now, after midnight. Beyond the diner, people were thrashing to music in warehouses and scream-singing in bars. The dull rumble of rain continued.
I prayed that Penny was still sound asleep.
“You were so weird the first time we met in the cemetery,” Anna went on in an accusatory voice. “It was like you’d never talked to anyone before. And now you’re like … different. The same but different.”
“I haven’t gone out much,” I said, fiddling with my choker. Anna’s eyes followed my hands. “I mean, I just turned eighteen.”
“That doesn’t make it sound like you have Downhill parents,” she said.
“My Father is an Uphiller,” I said, correcting her.
Her eyebrows shot up. She took another sip of soda. “Uphill, huh?”
Uh oh. Had I said too much? Anna certainly looked at me like I’d said too much. When the waiter came around with our check, Anna took care of the bill. She kept looking at me quizzically and looking away when I caught her.
“Is there something on my face?” I asked.
“No,” she said, turning red again. “I’m not staring at you. And even if I was, it’s only because I’m trying to figure something out.”
On one hand, I was relieved that Anna wasn’t interrogating me about Clyde. On the other hand, questioning me about Father might’ve been even worse.
“I know a lot of Uphillers, from working at the Institute. Maybe I know him,” she said.
“I don’t think you’d know him,” I said, swallowing another bite of pie. This time, it didn’t taste quite as sweet as the first bite.
Anna didn’t reply. She looked like she was thinking really hard. Like she was trying to piece things together. I would’ve killed to know what she was thinking about. Fuck.
The diner shift was starting to turn over. Our helpful waiter was replaced by a brusque older woman. The older Downhill couple had already paid and left. Now younger Downhillers, coming from the bars or music venues, were heading in. It was the late-night crowd.
“I have to go,” Anna muttered, with a sidelong glance at them. “My boss will be on my case if I don’t have her presentation formatted by tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks for paying,” I said, trying to sound normal. Internally, I was screaming. Anna would unquestionably try to figure out who my father was. The idea of her connecting me to Father and the Cog Lab was horrifying.
“Talk soon, Helga,” she said, with a wave of her manicured hand. She smoothed down her rumpled skirt and left while the new customers streamed through in a cacophony of squeaky wet fishnets, wet leather, and jangly silver pendants.
When I looked down at my plate, I realized that for the first time in my life, I hadn’t finished eating something. Half a slice of blackberry pie and most of the scallion pancakes remained. Because of Anna’s persistent interrogation, I’d completely lost my appetite.
I zipped my hoodie up all the way so that it looked like a shiny metal spine. I walked through the rain, telling myself that I didn’t feel a small sting whenever the rain landed on my skin. Downhillers were tough—and I was a Downhiller.
I trod through the wet road, where blackberries were coming up through every crack. I pulled my hoodie closer and took the long way back to Penny’s, stopping by the Night Market to get trinkets for Hugo.
I walked up the hill and silently crept into the window of Penny’s garden-level apartment. The lights were off. But someone was sitting upright on the couch in the dark. Penny was awake.
My Cog scrambled for excuses. I was just out getting air. I was getting a little snack. No one saw me, I swear.
Penny didn’t even acknowledge my entrance, though. Even in the dark, I could see that her eyes were red. Penny had been crying.
“What happened?” I asked. Penny was never awake at this hour. I knew it had to be bad. My Cog raced, imagining different possibilities. Maybe it was blackmail or another accident. Another death, even.
But Penny shook her head. “It’s not for you to worry about. I got a message from my student loan officer. They’re doubling my interest rate. Private loans are such a scam.”
Her face crumpled, then she broke down. “It came out of fucking nowhere. I’ll never, ever pay it back,” Penny said, sobbing into my shoulder.
Tentatively, I hugged her. “Don’t worry, I can steal from more tourists.”
Penny laughed hoarsely. “No, this isn’t the kind of money you can get back like that, Helga. I’d need a significant pay raise, like, yesterday.”
“What are you going to do?” I couldn’t think of anything, unless Father gave her a big raise. Knowing him, I really doubted that would happen.
It seemed wild to me that anyone could do the things that had been done to Penny. That a landlord could raise her rent with no warning, that loan officers could double her interest. Penny was at the mercy of people who could crater her life at any moment.
This was worse than stealing cash from tourists. To squeeze everything out of a person on an ongoing basis until they dropped dead—this was systematic and soul-crushing. Penny couldn’t live like this. No one should ever have to. Being worked to the bone with nothing to show for it.
“I could try to save,” Penny said. Her voice was choked. “My parents can’t afford to help me. I could move Downhill and take the bus to work. I’ll figure something out. I have to.”
Then she’d be tired from the long commute, I realized. And Penny was already so tired all the time. She could spend less, and live further away, but the problems were still there. The problems were always there.
“Or, if this is how things are, then I might as well say fuck it,” Penny continued, with a grim smile.
“Fuck it?”
“Yeah, fuck it. What’s the point in trying to do everything the right way when there’s so much against me?” Penny’s smile was starting to alarm me. There was an edge to it that I had never seen before.
Penny had been the one to pull me back from doing stuff. It would be weird for me to counsel her on the best way to live, especially as someone who had only been alive for a little over a week.
And yet, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see fuck it–mode Penny.
“Something big needs to happen,” she continued quietly. “Bigger than graffiti, bigger than smashing kiosks. Things can’t stay like this. It’s not working.”
“What do you think we should do?” I asked. I was almost afraid of her answer.
Penny looked me over. “I’m not sure,” she said. Something about her voice was guarded. “I’ll help you with Hugo, of course. Might as well get everything out of that lab that I can. But after that … Who knows what I’ll do?”
She lit up a cigarette and exhaled smoke into a poster of a Downhill rock band. In the dark room, her eyes gleamed. “You know what? It’s time to really live the way I want.”
I squeezed her hand, which made her wince immediately. It was hard to gauge my own strength sometimes.
“Finally,” I told her.