Shay counted five kids and two teachers missing. And that was without really knowing anyone.
Preeti had run off the second Shay checked her in with Alison at the information desk in Baxter’s. Preeti’s “class” did in fact contain her two friends from before the riots, before she’d come down with the flu. Preeti had seen the girls in the children’s book section—Preeti’s class was old enough to actually try to teach them something—and they’d met, grabbing hands and squealing as if this was an average day at their regular school.
How could Preeti be so normal? How was anyone pretending that life was not simply a waiting game to see who dropped next?
Take Kris, for example. Lunch was late, so he was leading a game of duck-duck-goose. Duck-duck-freaking-goose. The kids loved him like a god and jumped on him every chance they got. “Goose” would topple into Kris’s lap and he would cry out like he was shocked by the attack, then start tickling. Everyone ended up laughing—the ducks and the geese. Shay made a good show of merriment, laughing the best “I’m having a good time” laugh she could muster. But Kris, he was really laughing. He actually was having a good time. What was his damage?
Duck-duck-goose ended and Kris waved for Shay to help him collect one of the art bins Alison had spent the night putting together. “We’ll make masks,” Kris said, holding up a Popsicle stick and paper plate.
“A mask to wear over our masks,” Shay said, hefting a tray of paints and brushes.
“Decorating their face masks!” Kris exclaimed, missing her sarcasm entirely. “I love it. We’ll get stickers and do it after lunch.”
After they’d set down the materials and gotten the kids started gluing sticks to their plates, Shay asked—no, begged, “Tell me. Please. How do you do it? How can you stay so happy when we’re missing five kids—five, just in one day?”
Kris knelt back on his haunches, then sat and propped his arms behind him. “It’s a choice,” he said. “The way I see it, you can look at this as a giant suckfest of death or you can decide to make the best of things and live. Why not stay positive?”
Shay looked at him like he’d just peeled off his skin to reveal the alien hide beneath.
Kris elbowed her. “Don’t look at me like I’m insane,” he said. “It’s not like I’m not scared or sad or kicking myself for coming here that fateful Saturday, but that’s all stuff I can’t change. What I can change is how I react to it, and I choose to stay positive.” He shuffled over to a girl who was having trouble with the glue and getting it in her hair. When he returned, Shay was still gawking.
He mimicked her look back to her. “I sound that nuts? Let me try again.
“My mom died of cancer a couple years ago, just as I was graduating from Tisch. I was really pissed about that. I would look at what was happening to her—she was young, really young, like in her forties—and I felt all this rage at god, the universe, everything. My dad became a wreck, stopped going to work. The law firm ended up giving him an extended leave of absence, but he’s never gone back. My mom, though, she was like a saint.
“One day I said to her, Aren’t you freaking pissed off? And she said, Oh, I’m pissed. This sucks—she said sucks—but I don’t want to spend my last days angry.” He picked a dust bunny from his jeans and flicked it into the air. “That was before things got really bad. By the end, she was miserable and cursing everything, but before, she chose something else.”
Another kid screamed for Kris and he went trotting over to the rescue. Shay felt around inside herself, looking for that energy necessary to break orbit from the emptiness, to choose life, and found nothing.
• • •
To keep from getting crap from the other construction people, Marco had to party plan during meal and bathroom breaks. He’d scrawled some ideas on toilet paper, only to have the sheets dissolve in a deluge while helping some old guy repair a busted faucet on the second floor. This was the kind of crap day he was enjoying.
He’d decided to host this party in the IMAX theater. It was separate from the other theaters, which were being used by the school during the day for child placation and in the evenings for general entertainment of the masses, and he’d confirmed with a guy on security that the IMAX was abandoned. “No one can get the computers to work right,” the guy had explained. Apparently, the projectionist was resting peacefully on the rink.
The IMAX was relatively soundproof, and it was huge. The place also had speakers. Surely a computer genius such as he could get at least the audio portion of the system running. And it had lights on dimmers—party lighting scheme, check. The only issue was getting people in there unnoticed.
The IMAX, unlike the bowling alley, would require people to cross a fire stairwell, not run from one side of the main hallway to the other. This meant he had to find a way to bust open one of the magnetic doors permanently, or he had to station himself at the door and let people through all night, which, given his decision to make himself scarce at the actual event, was not an option. Which was why he was eating his lunch in front of the first-floor fire exit door near the bathrooms.
“You know, there are tables in the courtyard.”
Marco glanced over his shoulder and spotted the senator’s kid approaching. Were we supposed to meet? He had to play things cool.
He cleared his throat, pulled something witty from the creative void. “But out there, you don’t have the luscious aroma of the johns to accompany the delicious stink of the meal.”
She smiled. It was weird, having a girl flirt with him.
Lexi looked around where he was sitting, perhaps thinking he was hiding something. “You’re all alone?” she asked. “No girlfriend?”
Marco was confused until he recalled having told her about his having a girl who was a friend. “Just needed to think,” he said.
“I get that,” she said, sitting next to him.
Clearly she did not get it if she was sitting with him. “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” he said. He had twenty minutes to figure out how to bust the door lock, find Ryan for the names of the rejected guys, and locate Mike and Drew to ensure they never found out about the party.
She fidgeted with her sneaker. “Maybe I could help?”
Marco did not want to drive the girl away permanently, so there was no sarcasm bomb dropping allowed. He decided to take her up on the offer. He pointed to the door. “I was wondering if it was possible to permanently unlock one of these doors,” he said. “In case I lose my card and we have a date.”
He had not fully understood the phrase Her face lit up until he watched the change that came over Lexi’s as he spoke.
“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled, blush visible even on her dark cheeks. “I mean, sure, I think I could try, I mean, it’s a mag lock.” She stood and trotted to the door, poked at the mechanism between the door and the frame, then pushed the door open. “Just unscrew this,” she said, pointing to a metal panel on the door. “Assuming you can open the door, which deactivates the lock, you’ll have like thirty seconds or something to unscrew the panel from the door before the alarm sounds. Once the panel is off, you place it so it touches the magnet, which is this box attached to the door frame. That will engage the lock, trick the system into thinking the door is sealed, and the alarm won’t sound. Meanwhile, the door will swing free.” She let the door close. “The screws are on the face of the panel. It shouldn’t be hard to get it off the door if you use a screw gun.”
It was so simple, it was genius. He wanted to kiss her. Literally. He had an image in his head of actually touching his lips to hers. It was bizarre. It was unnerving. He began sweating in unfortunate places.
“Thanks,” he managed.
Lexi hugged her arms over her chest. “If that solves your problem, do you want to finish your lunch with me?” She fidgeted with her sleeve, shrugged slightly.
Marco couldn’t come up with a reason why not. Lexi ran to grab her plate from where she’d left it, then they found seats at a small, plastic table.
“I had hoped survival rations would be less depressing,” Marco said, running his spoon through the stuff.
“They’re not called enjoyment rations,” Lexi said, swallowing a mouthful. “It’s the bare minimum—eat only what you need to survive.”
“Spaceballs?”
Lexi smiled warmly. “A fellow dork?”
“Was I hiding it that well?” Marco was actually surprised his dorkiness was news.
She took another bite. “You seemed pretty cool to me.”
Marco was utterly speechless. This girl thought he was cool.
“I mean, until now,” she said. “Now the dork is just coming off you in waves.”
“Alas, I’m only Bruce Wayne without my suit of cool.”
“Bruce Wayne is still pretty good.”
Marco wasn’t sure if they were flirting or talking about Batman.
“How are things in the boys’ dorm?” Lexi continued. “The JCPenney is a sorority nightmare. Last night, the bathroom on my floor was mobbed by six girls in the middle of a who’s-got-the-better-boobs competition.”
“It’s Lord and Taylor of the Flies over there,” he said.
“Someone nailed a pig’s head to the wall?”
“If there were a pig,” Marco replied, “I’m sure some guy would decapitate it.”
They were chatting, talking, like people did on television. Marco was even enjoying himself. It wasn’t until ten minutes later that he happened to notice the time and realized he had a mere five minutes left to complete two necessary tasks. He shoveled the last bites of his meal into his mouth.
“I have to go,” he said.
“Oh,” Lexi said, dropping her spoon. The smile evaporated.
“I mean, I don’t want to go, but I have to do something.” He was now observing the polar opposite of a face lighting up—a face shutting down. “Tonight. I’ll see you tonight, right? In your office?”
“Oh, okay,” she said, face brightening. “Right, the lock.”
“Exactly,” he said. “So I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Great.”
“Good.” He grabbed his plate and walked away to shut off the verbal diarrhea erupting from his lips.
• • •
It had taken all morning, but Ryan had managed to scrounge some Pepto tablets from a drawer under the checkout counter of Victoria’s Secret. He’d run into the store to avoid a patrol of guards, but once inside, he’d taken a moment for himself. All the sexy stuff was gone, but there were still pictures all over the walls of half-naked chicks. He wasn’t a pervert or anything, but still, seeing a picture like that, all air-brushed and whatever, got a guy going. He wondered if it was too early to visit Shay. He wondered if she wore stuff like these models had on—not here obviously, but like at home.
He had to focus.
There was still a line of people waiting for the showers when he got to the pavilion, but they were all women this time, and there was now an old lady handing out the towels and soap. It would look weird if he loped down the stairs now—the only reason a normal mall person had to go to the garage was to shower. So crap. How to get to Jack?
He stood near a crowd of guys loitering around the central fountain and tried to think of a plan. In that moment, Ryan wished that he were more like Marco—though he’d be damned if he’d ever admit that fact out loud. Marco was a thinker. He planned things.
“Dude, you hear about the party last night?”
Ryan turned his attention to the guy standing behind his right shoulder.
“Some guys got a hold of a keg and ran a party in the bowling alley.”
“You think it’s on again tonight?”
“Hell if I’m not checking it out.”
Mike and Drew would have to move back to the parking garage—no way they’d stay anywhere people were going to start haunting on a regular basis. So now he had to figure out a way to get to Jack, then get back up to the third floor, then get Mike and Drew back to the garage, all without stupid Marco, who seemed to drift in and out of existence.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Speak of the devil . . . Marco appeared in front of him, brow knit like he actually gave a crap if Ryan got caught.
“I had to get some medicine,” Ryan replied coolly, not letting Marco’s asshole tone get him riled. “For my kids.”
“That entire thing you have going is a mistake.”
“Like your party idea was so stellar.”
Marco smirked. “About that,” he said. “You kicked some people out? Can you tell me who they were? Maybe pick them out in the lunch crowd?”
The guy had to be smoking something. Like Ryan remembered— “Him.” No joke, the tool who’d picked a fight with Drew was hitting on a hot girl by the soda machine.
Marco’s smirk became a scowl—it was like his face could only express varying degrees of pissed off. “Awesome. Thank you.” He began to walk away.
“Wait!” Ryan said. He had the planning expert right in front of him! “I have to get to the basement, then up to the bowling alley to tell Mike and Drew to clear out. Those guys by the fountain said they were planning on checking it out tonight. They think there’ll be another party.” From the strange look that flashed across Marco’s face, Ryan sensed the guy had not stopped whatever weird projects he was running behind Mike’s back. “Is there going to be another party?”
Marco waved Ryan away like he was a bug. “No, whatever, I’ll talk to Mike. And if it will get you off my back, I’ll let you into the service halls.” He walked toward a hallway, then disappeared down it. Ryan followed.
Taco slid his card through the reader and pushed open the door. “First right, through the door, down the stairs.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said.
Marco didn’t respond, just grunted and speed-walked back toward the central fountain.
What was the guy’s deal? He was helpful—or, really, his card was helpful. But still. Something was off with him. He was running some kind of play behind Mike’s back. And Ryan would find out what the hell it was.
• • •
Lexi could not have felt better if John Lasseter himself had called and told her he was using one of her CG shorts at the beginning of the next Pixar film. She’d actually had the balls to talk to Marco in public. And he’d responded! And then had lunch with her! That was totally another date. They were dating! And he was meeting her later that night!
When she returned to the table she’d started at, where Maddie and Ginger sat gawking at her like hungry dogs, Maddie had grabbed her wrists and said, “Details.”
“He’s nice.”
Maddie faux fainted, dropping onto the bench of the picnic table.
“Nice is not going to cut it,” Ginger said.
So Lexi told them. Every word. Every facial expression. About their rendezvous for later that night. She wanted them to know because then they could tell her if she was reading things right. “So that was a date, right?” she asked when she got to the end.
“That was lunch in the cafeteria, not a date,” Maddie said with authority. “A date involves the potential for badness.”
“Badness?”
“She means hooking up,” Ginger clarified.
This took Lexi back a few lines of code. Did Marco expect her to “hook up” in the office later that night? She was in way over her head.
“I think I need help,” Lexi mumbled.
“Well, sister, you have come to the right place.” Maddie clapped her hands like she’d been waiting all day for this moment.
“I think we ask to be assigned to clothing for the afternoon?” Ginger was consulting with Maddie like Lexi was not even there.
“You take Miss Thang to clothing,” Maddie said, slinking her hands through both Ginger’s and Lexi’s arms, “and I will check out what’s available in the lingerie department.”