Minders

CHAPTER 4

At a little before one P.M. the next day Sadie lay in the Stas-Case and took her last glimpse of the oval room. It had taken three hours to attach all the sensors and run diagnostics, but she was finally ready.

Or her body was. Because as the minutes of preparation had inched forward, she’d found herself becoming more and more convinced she was making a mistake.

She felt a hand on her arm through the stasis suit and saw Curtis to her left.

“You ready?” he asked.

No! she tried to tell him, but the mouth guard she was wearing made it come out as a gurgle.

She grabbed his hand and looked at him desperately.

“You’re afraid,” he said. “That’s normal. Statistically speaking.”

She glared at him.

“I’m not bullshitting you. More than seventy percent of Minders report having second thoughts before they enter stasis.” He leaned close to her. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of. This is only shallow stasis, you’ll be out in a week for evaluation, and if you need to get out sooner you have the panic button. Can you feel it?”

She concentrated on her left hand, then nodded. The biohaptic gel her body was encased in made sensations harder to read.

“Good,” Curtis said. “You can keep it right there in your hand the whole time. Remember, it has a failsafe built in, so you have to squeeze it three times before Syncopy will be terminated. The first time will put the system on standby, the second will set it to ready, and the third will complete the process and sever your stasis connection. That way you’ll never have to worry about doing it by accident. Do you understand?”

Sadie nodded. She felt calmer.

Curtis smiled. “The computer is going to count backward from nine. As it does, let your mind wander back through what you did last night. Reviewing recent memories will help the circuits build a bridge between your mind and your Subject’s. When you hear ‘one,’ open your eyes. You’ll be there. Okay?”

Sadie nodded again. He leaned out of view, and she heard him say, “She’s ready, Cat.” Near her head a computerized voice announced, “Counting down to Syncopy. In nine . . .”

Sadie’s heart rate spiked, and a monitor near her began to beep. Curtis was back, his gaze holding hers, saying in a soothing voice, “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re going to be great. Take a deep breath and close your eyes, and I’ll see you in a week.”

She let her eyelids slowly come over her eyes.

“Good. Now think back to last night. You left here and drove home. You turned onto your street, and the first thing you saw was—”

“Eight…”

—Cars everywhere. Sadie’s normally quiet street had been clogged with cars when Sadie got home. She knew why when she pulled into her driveway and saw a girl in the burgundy uniform of her mother’s preferred valet service standing under a white umbrella.

Her stomach had dropped. Her parents were having a party. They must have forgotten that they’d said they would have a quiet dinner, just the three of them. Or forgotten entirely about her coming home.

“The hostess asks that guests enter through the front door and then make their way to the pool,” the valet said.

Sadie wondered which of her mother’s charities this was a fund-raiser for. Not that it mattered; she had no intention of going. She would go straight upstairs to her room and call Decca.

Ignoring the valet’s instructions and hearing nothing from the backyard, she turned left before reaching the stairs and followed a path lined with glossy-leafed lemon trees around the side of the house. The white globe lanterns her parent’s landscape architect had designed for outside entertaining were lit, and mirror-topped café tables had been arranged beneath the arbor that ran along the swimming pool. There was a small stage for a band at the far end of the pool, but no band on it. It was like a stage set, Sadie thought—PARTY: CASUAL, EVENING—everything straining in hushed readiness, but no guests. They must still have all been inside.

Between the house and the pool were three long rectangular tables covered with white cloths. One of them was set up as a bar, and the other two looked like they would hold a buffet. Each of them was decorated with an ice sculpture of a walnut.

The sculptures aren’t even very good, Sadie thought as she skirted the tables and made for the door. They looked more like brains than walnuts.

“SURPRISE!”

People burst from under tables, behind lemon trees, beneath the stage. Sadie took two steps backward and would have ended up in the pool if Pete hadn’t caught her.

“I’d say she was surprised,” her father said to her mother. “Guess she’s not made of stone after all.”

“Smile, darling,” her mother said when she leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. “Everybody likes the smiling girl.”

“Seven…”

Sadie remembered Decca appearing a quarter of an hour later, her dark skin glowing in all the candlelight. She’d thrown her arms around Sadie, and while they posed for pictures said through her teeth, “You’re completely miserable, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Sadie asked, smiling.

“Only to me.” Decca got serious. “Do you want me to start a fire so everyone has to be evacuated?”

Sadie suddenly felt much better. “No.”

“Say ‘not yet,’” Decca told her. “It’s best to leave your options open.”

“Six…”

Sadie remembered Decca disappearing “to chat with that nice man at the bar” when Pete came up and slipped his arm around her.

“Come here, there’s something I want to show you,” he’d said, too loud, drawing her into the shadows next to the pool house and kissing her.

The air was warm and heavy with the citrus scent of the lemon trees. She’d reached up, twined her fingers in his hair, and pulled his mouth hard against hers. The kiss was deep, intense, and long. When they separated, Pete stared at her, breathless. “It’s nice to know you missed me.”

“Of course I did,” she told him.

“So how was spy camp? Learn all the secret handshakes? Get asked out by a lot of nerds?”

Before she could stop herself Sadie snapped, “It wasn’t like that.”

Pete gave her a wondering look. “I was kidding. Relax. I’m sure you were much too busy learning how to manipulate people without them knowing.”

Sadie tried to keep her tone light. “If I could do that, do you think we’d be having this conversation?”

He grinned at her. “How was it really? You look great, by the way.”

“It was amazing, Pete. Incredible.”

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “And you’re excited to start?”

“More than I’ve ever been for anything in my life,” she said. She’d known it was the wrong thing to say the minute the words were out, but she couldn’t take them back. She braced for his reaction.

But he surprised her. He said, “I’m so happy for you, babe. Of course, I’m going to miss you.”

She looked up at him gratefully. “I’m going to miss you too.” She touched his cheek. “A lot.”

“And miss kissing me?” he asked, his nose rubbing against hers.

“And miss kissing you,” she confirmed.

“Maybe we should do something about that.” His hand slid up her thigh under her skirt.

“Pete, there are people—”

His lips were at her ear. “Your parents are great hosts. No one is paying any attention to us. We could leave, and they wouldn’t notice.”

That was true. Apart from Decca and Pete and a few of her father’s partner’s kids, all the guests were her parents’ friends. “I’ve been going nonstop today, and I haven’t showered,” Sadie said, reaching down to halt the progress of his fingers up her thigh.

“So?” He pulled away slightly and gave her a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind getting a little dirty.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “That’s disgusting.”

He grinned at her, his adorable grin, then took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs to the house. “Come on, let’s not waste time.”

She planted her feet. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s our last night together for six weeks. I was thinking we should make it… memorable.”

No, she thought, her heart sinking. Not tonight.

“Five…”

Smile, darling, Sadie heard her mother’s voice in her head. “We agreed to wait until we felt ready,” she said. Her voice sounded high and a little panicked.

Pete didn’t seem to notice. “Until you felt ready,” he corrected, tucking her hair behind her ears. “We’ve waited for a year. Isn’t that enough? Come on, babe. I love you. You love me. What more do you want?”

She wanted to feel excited. She wanted to want it. And she didn’t. But she couldn’t tell Pete that. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Trust me, it will be. Stop worrying. You’re overthinking it,” Pete coaxed. “Sometimes I wish you were a little less cerebral.”

“There are plenty of airheads who would be happy to date you,” Sadie said coldly.

He smirked at her and tapped the tip of her nose. “That was a joke, babe. Relax. You don’t have to take everything so seriously.”

Over Pete’s shoulder Sadie saw Decca leaning against the side of the bar. She was telling a story, her hands cartwheeling in the air, the bartender captivated, laughing. As Sadie watched, Decca leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear, putting her hand on his chest. He took the hand and kissed it, and Decca tipped her head back and laughed.

Why couldn’t she feel what they did? Why was it so easy for everyone besides her? What was wrong with her?

Her eyes moved back to Pete, looking at her earnestly.

“Seriously, babe, what are you so afraid of? It’s me, Pete. Your boyfriend. Who you love. What do you think is going to happen?”

Nothing, she thought. I’m afraid of nothing—of feeling nothing, no connection, no passion, no heat.

She reached up to straighten the collar of his shirt. “It’s just—this is a big deal,” she said, calling up an argument that had worked in the past.

He made his comical frowning face. “To be clear, by ‘this,’ you mean sex.”

“You don’t have to keep saying it. Yes.”

“But at graduation you said—”

“I know what I said at graduation. And that’s true.” She smiled at him. “Only tonight seems so rushed.”

“Rushed? It’s been a year, Sadie.” His voice rose with emotion. “I’ve waited for a goddamned year.”

Sadie gazed at him in shock, hardly recognizing her boyfriend in this guy with the hard eyes and set jaw. The smile felt galvanized on her face. “Are you angry? Because I won’t have sex with you?”

“Yes. No. I’m—” He dropped his arms and took a step away from her, raking his hand through his hair. “I’m confused. If you loved me the way I love you—”

“I do.” She did.

“Then you would want this too.”

“You know I do. Very much.”

“But not tonight,” he said.

“Right,” Sadie agreed hopefully, not realizing, until it was too late, that it was a trap.

He looked beyond her. “I don’t know, Sadie. I just don’t know.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “I should go.”

Sadie blinked, feeling cold and confused. “Like that? You’re going to leave it like that? For six weeks?”

He avoided her eyes. “No. I just—let me cool off. I’ll be in touch.”

“Four…”

I’ll be in touch.

I’ll be in touch.

I’ll be in touch.

“Three…”

Torches were still casting gold light at the corners of the pool, but the party had thinned out, and the band was packing up.

Decca stood looking down at Sadie, who was lying on one of the chaise lounges.

“The usual?” Decca asked.

“Oh yes,” Sadie said, getting to her feet.

They grabbed two leftover bottles of champagne and went past the pool and out the gate in the hedge fence that separated the Ames house from the golf course. Picking a spot with no trees overhanging, they each popped the cork on their bottle.

They gave the toast they’d been giving since they were six with apple juice, saying “To friends like you” in unison. Then, sitting back-to-back for support, they looked up at the sky. It was dark enough that they could see thousands of stars.

“You should have let me start a fire,” Decca said. “We could have been doing this hours ago.”

Sadie took a gulp of champagne. “Right. I promise I’ll listen to you next time.”

“That would be confusing,” Decca said, and they laughed.

They stayed like that, sipping from their bottles, watching the sky and talking only to point out a shooting star or comet.

“What’s he like?” Decca asked after a while.

“Who?”

“Your guy. The one whose head you’ll be in. What does he look like?”

“How do you know it’s a guy?”

“Is it?” Decca asked.

“I’m not supposed to say anything,” Sadie told her.

“Why? Is it like a wish, and if you share it won’t come true?”

“Exactly.” Sadie watched the bright light of a satellite moving slowly across the sky. “He’s really cute,” she said finally.

Decca hooted. “I knew it. What color hair?”

“Dark. And blue eyes.”

“Mmmm, I love that type.” Decca leaned her head back against Sadie’s shoulder. “I know it’s confidential and all that, but I have an incredibly important question that you will be uniquely qualified to answer.”

“What is it?”

“What guys talk about while peeing at urinals.”

Sadie laughed and pretended to flick her on the head. “I’m going to miss you,” she said softly.

“I’m going to miss you more.”

“Two…”

After Decca left, Sadie had curled herself into the window seat of her bedroom. Her parents were asleep, and silence had settled over the house.

When Sadie was younger, spending time alone in the echoey house when her parents were out had scared her, so she’d made a list of different kinds of silences. Silence of anticipation, silence of grief, silence of tranquility, lonely silence, welcome silence, intimate silence, pregnant silence, silence of contempt. The silence surrounding her now was familiar, the silence of gates and guards and wide lawns and double-paned windows that kept you safe. Locked in. The silence of home.

She left the lights off, not needing to see the slate-gray walls of her room, the string of ribbons won over ten years of spelling bees hung above the six tennis trophies and three cups from the national debate championships. The pictures of her and the tennis team, her and Decca, her and Pete. Especially the ones of her and Pete.

Instead she stared out into the darkness that spread in front of her like an inky carpet, past her backyard with its perfect squares and rectangles, past the golf course to the shimmering glow on the horizon.

City Center.

She knew what she was seeing was just the halcyon lights on the highway that marked the outer perimeter of the City Center. And she knew the twinkling was an optical effect caused by humidity in the air. But to her it still looked like a mystical Valhalla, sparkling with passion, adventure, and—

“One. Syncopy engaged.”

—life.

She opened her eyes.