Twinmaker

17

JESSE CHASED AFTER his father. With a screech of tires, Dylan Linwood sped away on the electrobike, leaving his son behind.

“Is that all, Ms. Hill?” asked the principal, dragging Clair’s attention back to the office.

Clair hesitated. The video stream had ended with Dylan Linwood’s departure. There were no public eyes on her now.

“What if I said that I had used Improvement and was willing to take the test?”

“Then I’d say you’ve wasted time and energy better spent doing your homework. You look perfectly fine to me. And if you’re thinking of killing yourself, I strongly urge you to talk to a counselor. That’s why we provide them.”

Principal Gordon opened the folder Dylan Linwood had given her, removed the pages, and ripped them in half.

“I have better ways to spend my mornings than with scaremongering students and difficult parents. It’s time for class, Clair. Go.”

Clair did as she was told, her face burning. The principal’s assistant ushered her outside, and she was happy enough to go. That scene couldn’t have gone much worse for her.

The crowd was dispersing, staring at but not talking to her. Jesse was standing, looking lost, next to his own bicycle—a human-powered one, with pedals at the front and a horizontal seating position. He was wearing the same jeans as yesterday but with an orange T-shirt this time. Maybe the yellow one was in the wash, Clair thought, distantly wondering how that worked.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her. “This is his way of helping, believe it or not.”

“Well, he’s not. Was any of that real, or did he fake the whole thing?”

“He thinks it’s real, for what that’s worth.”

Clair didn’t know what to do. She didn’t really think that Improvement was causing anyone brain damage, but the thought was out there now. Who knew how Libby would react? She was bound to get wind of it. Would she understand that Clair had been trying to protect her? Would she see that Clair had put her own reputation at risk in order to undo the damage she had already done to their friendship?

“I want to talk to him again,” she said, coming to an instant decision. “I want your father to tell me everything he thinks he knows.”

“Uh . . . I don’t think he’s going to like that idea—”

“I don’t care. Can you call him?”

“I tried. He’s not responding.”

“Try again. If he’s lying, he needs to take it back. And if he’s right, against all the odds, Libby might be in real danger.”

“I know,” said Jesse, “Libby and everyone else who used Improvement, but what can I do? What can you do? It was her choice to do it. Whether it works the way it’s supposed to or not, it’s on her, right?”

Clair was about to deny that she would ever abandon Libby like that when it truly struck her that she, too, was one of Improvement’s potential victims. If Dylan Linwood was right, she and Libby were in exactly the same boat.

“You look like hell, Clarabelle,” said Zep from behind her. “And no wonder.”

She turned, wondering if he was reading her mind. “What?”

“The video. I saw all of it except for when I was in transit. Fifty people have sent me the link since then. That’s the most popular Gordon the Gorgon has ever been. You too. It’s popping in the wake of the crashlander thing.”

“Oh, great,” said Clair.

“Soon you’ll be famouser than famous—until some cat meme takes your place, anyway.” He actually looked jealous.

“Don’t. It’s not helping.” She pressed her palms hard into her temples, wishing she could squeeze out a solution. Her infield was full of bumps, distracting her.

“Do you think it’s real?” Zep asked in quieter tones. “Nine girls in six months?”

“It can’t be, can it?” said Jesse. “There’d be no missing that kind of correlation.”

“Not if no one’s looking. . . . Hey, you’re the Stainer kid. Son of the lunatic himself.”

Zep held out his hand, and Jesse warily shook it.

“Nice entrance back there, by the way,” Zep said. “Bet you’re looking forward to going home and facing the music.”

“I’m going there now,” said Jesse. He was speaking more to Clair than Zep. “I’m really sorry it went like this.”

“It’s not over yet,” she said. “I’m going with you.”

“What?” Zep looked from Clair to Jesse and back again. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe, and maybe he is too. But I can’t leave it here.” Fury and frustration were making her hands shake. “He’s going to talk to me properly, and I’m not leaving until he does.”

“All right,” said Jesse, looking resigned to an awkward replay of the previous night’s confrontation. “I’ll leave the bike here. We’ll walk together.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Clair.

“Don’t worry about the bike,” he said, misunderstanding her concern. “I’ve got a spare if this is stolen. That’s the trouble with Dad’s plan to reeducate the world. He can only make so many things, which makes them valuable, which makes people copy and fab them so anyone can have their own. It’s stupid. He’s stupid.”

Jesse stopped himself. He had wrapped a chain through the front wheel and fastened it to a water fountain.

“Screw school,” said Zep. “I’m going too. This is for Libby, right?”

Relieved, Clair could only nod.