AMBITION By Lee Strauss Ambition By Lee Strauss Cover by Steven Novak ISBN: 9781301979769 Smashwords Edition Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously and nay resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual event or locales, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. AMBITION A short-story prequel to PERCEPTION By Lee Strauss NOAH I propped up the computer pen, its little tri-pod legs springing out, as a virtual monitor appeared on the wall and a corresponding virtual keyboard on my desk. I tapped away and waited for my blog to appear—Down with Gap Policies! My posts were getting lots of hits and tons of comments. Most agreeing with my rants on how GAPs—Genetically Altered Persons—had unfair social and financial advantages over the rest of us left in our normal state. Occasionally I get a dissenting voice, and there was one today: This is typical GAPphobia, man. You secretly have GAP envy, and I don’t blame you. Being GAP is awesome. You wish you had my life, dude, my long, healthy life with more than my share of beautiful chicks who won’t wrinkle and die for a really long time. I smirked. What an idiot. I answered back. The last thing in the world I want is to be a GAP. A hundred years on this earth is plenty long enough for me. I just wish I could live it without having to know a GAP or without them stealing funds and opportunities from the rest of us. I read the next comment: Keep up the good work. The more noise we make, the more they’ll have to stop ignoring us. Your father would be proud. My heart jumped at the mention of my dad. My eyes darted to my photo wall with its rotating pictures and I focused in on one of him. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and his passion for justice. I answered back. Thanks, I do what I can. And…I hope so. I answered a ton more before giving into the demands of my growling stomach. I headed to our kitchen—small U-shaped room with terracotta tiles on the floor and the morning sun shining through a big window over the sink—and rooted around for something to eat for breakfast. Toast and jam. Couldn’t go wrong with that. My brothers, Jonathon and Davis, sat at the table in the dining room that was basically an extension of the living room. I leaned against the door frame and watched them as I ate. They had scrounged up an old-fashion puzzle—its pieces were piled into a small mountain on the middle of the table. Davis crinkled his little nose as he examined the photo on the box cover. “What is it?” he said. “It’s the Eifel Tower,” Jonathon answered. “It’s in France. That’s a country in Europe.” “Looks cool. Maybe we can go there someday,” Davis said. Jonathon grunted. At fourteen he was old enough to know that we weren’t going to France or anywhere, ever, now that there was no fossil fuel left in the earth. Air travel required expensive alternative energy and was assessable to only the very rich—which meant it was another perk for the GAPs. Just more swag in their oversized pockets. A guttural groan bubbled from my chest when my Communication Ring buzzed and I saw Ma’s name there. I knew when she’d left for work this morning that she would be calling. She was too thin, too pale, too ill, to put in an extra shift to prepare for another frivolous event at the esteemed Vanderveen residence. I had offered to cover for her last night when I’d heard, but she refused, and the selfish part of me was glad. I hated substituting for her, something that I’d had to do a lot lately. I tapped the base of my ring as I deposited my dirty dish in the sink and her three inch holographic image appeared. “Hi Ma,” I said. “Noah, I’m so sorry. I just don’t think I can make it through the rest of the day.” “It’s okay. I’m on my way.” I brushed my teeth and got dressed, taking a moment to straighten my bed sheets and clear off my desk. Tidiness gave me a sense of control. It was a false sense, but I liked it anyway. “I have to go guys,” I said. “Ma will be home soon. Stay out of trouble for once, huh.” I scrubbed the top of Davis’s head on my way out the door. We lived in a lower middle-class neighborhood. Mostly one level, single family or duplex homes in a Mextex style, with stucco painted white or yellow or salmon and all with red-tiled roofs. Most, like ours, could use a fresh coat of paint and a good deal of yard work. I strode through the weed-lined path to the Lev Pod transit station and hopped the next pod that glided to the square by my church. My church meaning the church my dad was the pastor of before he died, when people still congregated for services on Sunday morning. It was closed to the public now, but the building was legally mine. Kind of a strange inheritance. It had a clock tower from the past century with a big clock face and rod irons hands that pointed perpetually to twenty five minutes past twelve. I exited off the main pod station near the square and navigated the crowds, walking west. I dodged soundless electric and hybrid vehicles manually navigating around magnetic grid systems and manoeuvred through the mass automated pod buses snaking through the city until I reached the pedestrian overpass. Eventually I arrived at gates of Sol City. I showed the gate security guard my domestic help ID issued to me by Paul Vanderveen so I could fill in for my mom when she felt too weak to work. The times of entry and exit for me was limited to weekdays from six am to six pm unless one of the Vanderveens called in for an exception. My back bristled at the way the guard dismissed me as I passed through the gates, like I was a piece of scum. Sol City was another world compared to my life outside the gates. The houses were ostentatious, the grounds spotless and the people white, blond, blue-eyed and yes, beautiful. In a fake Ken and Barbie doll way. This world belonged to GAPs. They had wealth, health and the best genes money could buy. The Vanderveen residence was an ocean-side monstrosity. A west-facing glass box with folding glass doors that opened to a vast view of the ocean. An infinity pool spread out toward the beach flowing over unto a second tier. I entered through the back door, the one used by the domestic help, and dug through the closet that held the white jackets Alison Vanderveen made the male staff wear. It was her way of reminding us of our proper place. My chest tightened as I shucked it on, squeezed by an invisible band. Though I was as tall as that stone-faced woman, she had a way of making me feel small. I despised her for it. I proceeded down the hall toward the living area. Liam Vanderveen, son and heir, approached from the opposite direction. He had a towel wrapped around a bare waist, and in bare feet he mindlessly tracked water all over the floor. He flicked blond curls from his brow as he passed me, and a spray of sand and water hit my arm. He moved by me without catching my eye, like I was invisible. Jerk. Near the great room, I spotted a set of youthful, white legs skipping up the open slat steps to the bedrooms above. Zoe Vanderveen’s likely. The only daughter, she thought herself a privileged princess. More than once I was thoroughly ignored by her and her superficial friends as they lounged around the pool with not a single care in the world. Ma came down the stairs and I almost gasped aloud when I saw her. She looked so frail and washed out. “Noah, thanks for coming.” “No problem, Ma. Go home. Get some rest.” She gave me her instructions before turning away. My eyes followed her; narrow shoulders slumped forward, feet shuffling with fatigue. It killed me to see her that way. I made my way to the living area which was cavernous, with lots of white. White leather couches and chairs, white throw-rugs over white tiles. The wood accents were dark brown, and silver ornaments sparsely decorated glass surfaces. A wall-size monitor filled the southern wall. It was turned off now, but when it was on, life size objects projected into the room in holographic 3D. I busied myself with dusting and polishing according to Ma’s directions and followed that up with mopping up the spots on the tile floor left by our good man Liam Vanderveen. I was moving backward toward the foot of the staircase when a body bumped into me. I turned and stiffened. It was Miss Zoe Vanderveen herself. Her long, blond hair hung down her back, still damp from a recent shower and smelled strongly of scented shampoo. She wore shorts and a loose blouse and had a startled look on her perfect face. She surprised me by actually speaking to me. “Excuse me, what was your name again?” I kept my expression blank even though I couldn’t believe she didn’t know. “Noah.” Footsteps echoed from the hall above us. Paul and Alison Vanderveen were talking and their muffled voices floated across the high ceilings. Alison's brassy voice echoed, “Do other maids send their sons to do their work?” My heart lurched as I realized she was talking about me. Zoe never budged, but her eyes widened slightly and I knew she heard her mother, too. “He does a good job,” Paul responded. “That's the main thing. Besides you know they need the money.” “So we're charity now?” Wow. Stab me in the heart, Allison. “What's wrong with a little charity?” Paul continued. “Besides, they're not just anybody.” We’re not just anybody. “I don't care. I still don't trust him.” I felt sucker-punch. Humiliated. My lips pulled into a tight line across my teeth as I tried to keep my expression stiff. My heart thudded and my chest heaved. I felt like punching something. At least Zoe had the decency to look mortified. “Did you know the Pikes have a household robot now?” Alison, again. The woman just wouldn’t stop. “Apparently it’s very efficient, and at least Mary doesn’t have to worry about things going missing.” I turned my back to Zoe and attacked Liam’s dried and dusty water spots like they were on Alison Vanderveen’s face instead of the floor. I didn’t breathe until I’d turned the corner out of Zoe’s line of sight. The rest of the day was uneventful and I worked hard at not replaying that stupid conversation over and over in my head. Or worse, recalling the look on Zoe’s face. Embarrassment at her mother’s lack of tack I could handle. Pity for me, I could not. I cleaned and assisted the kitchen staff with setting out dishware and setting up tables. The surfer-theme birthday cake arrived. One of the staff told me the evening affair was a surprise party for Liam and that Zoe was in charge of making it happen. I hadn’t seen Liam since the run-in in the hall earlier that morning. I was betting he’d guessed about the party and opted to stay out of the way. He was extra-smart, being a GAP and all. The band arrived and candles were lit. Zoe Vanderveen descended the stairs in a short, sparkly dress. I confessed to staring at her legs a little longer than I ought to. Zoe’s friends arrived; I recognized them even though when I saw them they usually just wore bikinis. All blond and beautiful, they passed me without so much of a nod. Here I experienced something I never felt at home and in the square—what it was like to be a minority. My dark hair and skin didn’t belong here. Thankfully my shift ended before the party officially began. I slipped out the back door and around the corner in time to spot one of Liam’s friends heading toward the main entrance. The tall, wooden doors opened and Zoe waved him in. “Jackson! You’re late. Hurry up before he catches you.” I pumped my arms as I marched away from the Sol City gates, breathing deeply of the smelly, soiled air—the sour scent of too many people spending too much time in the oppressive sun, wafts of smoke from cigarettes and marijuana, and as I neared the downtown center, colliding spices from ethnic food being hawked by street vendors. Normally my chest would loosen as I fell into step with my familiar surroundings, but today my agitation didn’t subside, instead the roots grew and twisted, going deeper. I shouldered my way through the stream of bodies and dodged clusters of humming traffic. I passed by a flashing digital sign in front of a glass high rise: SLEIMAN ENTERPRISES AWARDS EXTRAVAGANZA. The back-patting and self-serving accolades event was being held at Sleiman Center tomorrow—an all day affair. They couldn’t celebrate at the Sleiman Headquarters in Sol City, where all those GAPs actually lived. No, they had to parade their egos in front of those who wished they were like them. The building towered above those surrounding it, including my church, another symbol of the strength of the GAP minority population who lorded their will over the naturals, flaunting their wealth. I hated how intimidating they were, even with their architecture. The muscles in my face tightened as I came to a decision. I tapped my ComRing and spoke into the phone mirage that appeared along my palm. “Dexter.” A three inch tall holographic image popped up, the head of a grinning, toothy guy with a shock of red hair. “Hey man?” he said. “Hey, Dexter. You up for some fun?” “What you got in mind?” “Demonstration in front of the Sleiman Center.” “When?” “Tomorrow.” He whistled. “Dude, that’s pretty short notice.” “I know. The GAPs are showing off. I want to crash their cocktail party.” The toothy grin spread wide. “Ultimate. I’ll call the troops.” A surge of excitement shot through my system. “Meet at the church tomorrow afternoon.” I wished I could go straight home—being around all those GAPs sucked the lifeblood from me—but my day wasn’t over yet. I still had to work my own job. The square was my turf. My church with its iconic clock tower had been crowded out and shadowed by newer glass and steel buildings. The hub of the sky train, subway and MagLev pod transit was there along with the food court one floor underground. I skipped down the steps, wrinkling my nose at the first assault of the mixed smells. Kiosks with every kind of ethnic food clamored for the attention of its customers. I was used to the dingy, litter-prone place, and skirted around the myriad of red-painted tables to the Indian booth in the back corner. I checked the clock on my ComRing. Just made it in time. There were loads of other kids who’d love to snag my job from under me, and I didn’t want to make being a late a habit. Jasminder was cool, though. She had known my dad and I thought she had a soft spot for me, though you wouldn’t know it by the permanent frown on her face, engraved there by a life defined by hard work and long hours. I manned the counter, taking orders and payment for meals when it was busy, and wiped counters and tables when it wasn’t. Katie and Beth, a couple protest groupies, showed up during a slow spot. “Hey, Noah,” Katie said. She always batted eyelashes and stared at me a little more than was comfortable. “Hey.” I glanced away, and moved condiments around to look busy. “Dexter messaged us. Protest at Sleiman Center tomorrow?” I looked around, hoping her voice didn’t carry. She noticed. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that so loud.” She turned to Beth. “Do ya want a soda?” Beth nodded and I brought two cans to the counter. Unlike most customers, they paid with cash. They didn’t have to, but they knew what it meant to me. Katie giggled and took a sip without moving away, her eyes not leaving mine. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was interested in me. And there wasn’t anything wrong with her, either. She was tall and blond, had a cute face. I just didn’t feel anything for her, and I didn’t want to lead her on, so I stayed cool. She wiggled her fingers and led Beth away to one of the empty tables. I watched them go and for some reason out of nowhere an image of Zoe Vanderveen crossed my mind. Her platinum blond hair, ocean-blue eyes, impossibly long legs and that short sparkly dress. A warm flush crept up my torso and I cursed myself. What was the matter with me? She was a gorgeous GAP, out of my league, and not of interest to me. At. All. Maybe I should date Katie? She’d be a good distraction to those kinds of unwanted desires. My gaze darted to her table where she sat with Beth. She was looking at me and giggled when she caught my eyes. I glanced away and chastised myself. I couldn’t do that to her. There was no way she wouldn’t end up hurt and it would definitely kill our friendship. It was a jerkish idea and I shrugged it off. I woke up the next day with excited apprehension. These protest plans were always good ideas the day before the execution. I fought a growing sense of panic when the time actually came. I tried not to think about it too much. Ma went to work again—clean up now from the surprise party—and she looked a bit better after having the afternoon off the day before. I hoped she wouldn’t call for me again, since I had plans. I spent the morning watching cartoons with my little brothers. After I made them a lunch of mac and cheese, I headed out to the church. My cousin, Skye, said she take the boys out for the afternoon, which was nice of her. The last thing I needed was to have to worry if my brothers were okay and staying out of trouble. The guys were waiting behind the church when I got there. “Hey man,” Brian said. “You made it.” “I’m only five minutes late, dude,” I said. I unlocked the door and entered. The girls brought placard paper and pens. Brian brought the posts to attach them to. Dust swirled in the light that streamed in from the upper stained glass windows and from the door I’d left cracked open to offer relief from the summer heat. All the lower windows were boarded up to prevent intruders which also made it kind of dark and moody. Just the way I liked it. Katie bent over her poster board which lay on the floor, scribbling out her words of protest, then held it up for me to see. “What’d ya think, Noah?” It had the word GAP in large block letters inside of a red circle and a big red X was marked over it. It lacked imagination, but got to the point. “It’s good,” I said. “Dude,” Dexter said, holding up his long, skinny arm. His read, Transhumanism is un-natural. I nodded my approval. On mine I scratched out, Science is not a true religion. Brian held his up with a beefy hand. GAP policies SUCK. I grinned. “Nice. Short and sweet.” I tapped my ComRing to check the time. “It’s almost five, guys,” I said. “Time to rock and roll.” We didn’t have far to go. Sleiman Center was one of the glass and steel buildings that crowded around my church. The normally full square was teaming with extra people curious to get a glimpse of the who’s who of the Sleiman world. The crowd swelled noticeably as the protesters began to arrive. My blog announcement got over a hundred hits and I’d expected a good turnout. Limos arrived one after the other delivering attendees. Self-important men dressed in three-piece suits and women in slinky dresses exited the glamorous vehicles like they were showing up at the bloody Oscars. The protesters started a low chant of Down with Gap Crap, growing increasingly louder until it crescendoed, to an ear piercing volume. Down with Gap Crap!! New arrivals to Sleiman Center shot us sour scowls. Dexter chanted the loudest and I worried he was so high that he’d float into the air like a helium filled balloon. He yelled in my ear, “This is fantastic!” The news reporters finally realized that we were the real news here. One of them pushed in toward us and thrust a mike in my face. The setting sun was blinding and sweat dripped down my temples. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “Why are you here?” he said. “We’re here because we are against the injustice brought to the average citizens of America by those who think they are better than the rest of us.” “Meaning Genetically Altered Persons,” he said. “Yes,” I shouted above the roar of the crowd. “GAPs have unfair social advantages. They have the wealth and opportunity allowing them to leap ahead of poorer naturals. They have the best of the best of all things, including real estate. Look at Sol City. It was built on land that once housed lower income citizens. GAP status allowed them to push the poor off their land after the Quake so they could build their walled, GAP-only, utopian city.” I pictured my dad, and the times he stood in front of reporters and said much the same thing. It stirred my zeal. “They fund the government and shape unfair policies. And most importantly, they have time. They have artificially expanded lifelines. They have no right to play God in this way. The alteration of human genetics must be stopped!” Sirens pierced through the noise of the chanters and interrupted my speech. Dexter grabbed my shoulder. “Hey dude. The authorities! Let’s bolt!” We elbowed our way through the crowd, held back by “fans” stopping me to pat me on the back and to shake my hand. I smiled and thanked them for coming, but inside I was antsy and eager to get back to the church. I slumped onto one of the pews, slid down onto my back and let out a long breath. I pressed my hands over my beating heart. My boney shoulder blades pinched as they dug into the wood. Dexter bounced on his heels, his whole body jittering with adrenaline, his arms flailing like one of those old blow-up men that whipped around in the wind. His eyes bulged out of his head reminding me of a cartoon. His voice exploded, “That was so ultimate, man!” I didn’t share in his euphoria. In fact, a dark despondency had settled on me, weighing heavily on my chest. I found it hard to breathe and pushed back up into a sitting position, tempted to drop my head between my legs. I would’ve if Dexter weren’t there to witness it. My head spun and blackness pulsed in the corner of my eyes. “Dude? Are you okay?” I told myself to calm down. “Yeah, I’m fine.” It was a lie. At my core, this wasn’t me. It wasn’t what I wanted to be. Sure, I was opposed to GAP policies, but I didn’t want to lead a movement. I didn’t want to be the leader. “I’m heading back out,” Dexter said. “You coming?” “No, you go. I’ll see you later.” “You sure?” I nodded. “Okay, later dude.” I leaned back against the pew and folded my arms relishing the relative quiet. The din of the noise outside bled in through the walls and windows, but at least I was alone. I stared up at the cross that hung on the wall above where the pulpit used to be. I’d sold most of the church stuff, basically stripped it, just keeping a few pews that we’d set into a semi circle. Wooden floors, wooden ceiling, wooden pews, wooden cross. Lots of wood. There was something about it that comforted me. My mind went to an earlier memory, when there were two rows of pews running from the front to the back, filled on a Sunday morning with parishioners. The lower windows were always opened, not only for air but as an invitation to those passing by to come in and satisfy their curiosity. Maybe they’d like what they heard. Maybe they’d stay. Maybe they’d come again. The meetings opened with music played by a small band consisting of a guitarist—many times me—a bassist and a drummer. Then dad would give his sermon. It was often about the importance of family, blood and otherwise, and how imperative it was that we took care of each other. Toward the end, the focus of his preaching was increasingly about the importance of justice and how to deal with the prevailing injustice. He didn’t have a problem with science when it was used to heal sickness and disease but he had a big problem with science when it was used to alter the core of who man was made to be. His opposition steadily grew as did his following—people who listened to his teachings and admonitions and believed them as strongly as he did. Not everybody loved him, especially those who found his words and power threatening. All it took was one gunshot to end it. I felt a lump form in my throat. I missed my dad. And I was afraid of disappointing him. Dad, I don’t know if I can do it? Leading the protests and taking up Dad’s cause seemed like a natural thing for me to do. I was his first born son. People expected it, especially once I turned eighteen and graduated from high school. There was no one more surprised than me at how popular my blog had become in such a short time. This role seemed to be my destiny, but there was a part of me, a big part, that didn’t want to do it. I just wanted to live my own life my own way. I picked up the guitar that was propped up in the corner and started to play, but the tunes that usually calmed my soul didn’t work their magic this time. My legs jittered and a growing restlessness pushed me back outside, toward home. The authorities had broken up the protest, but many of the protesters still loitered around the square. I didn’t feel like chatting and didn’t want to be recognized. I kept my head down as I walked to the pod transit. Ma was sitting in her recliner watching the news when I got home. I startled at the sight of my face peering back at me. I was spouting off as a large crowd pushed in behind me, the iconic clock tower in the background. The ticker that ran under the scene said, NOAH BRODY, GRANDSON OF LESSER KNOWN GENETIC SCIENTIST MATTHEW BRODY, CO-DEVELOPER OF THE PROCESS OF HUMAN GENETIC ALTERATION. The better known scientist was Dr. William Vanderveen, the current Senator of California, Democratic presidential candidate, and Zoe Vanderveen’s grandfather. He was the one everyone credited with the extension of the human life span, primarily because my grandfather was against implementing the science once it had been developed. It was hard to imagine that Zoe’s grandfather and my grandfather had once been good friends and professional colleagues. “She saw it air live,” Ma said. My eyes snapped to her. “What?” “I was cleaning the great room when the news aired your protest live on their TV. Zoe Vanderveen was there. I thought I was going to have to sweep her jaw off the floor.” Several emotions slammed up against me at her words. Pride? Anger? Indignation? What did I care if Zoe Vanderveen saw me rant about her GAP status? If I disrupted her parents night out? Maybe she’d remember my name now, next time she saw me. Maybe I’d be more than a clean-up guy to her. Whatever. I didn’t care what she thought. She lived in a make-believe world. I sighed heavily, forgetting for a moment that I wasn’t alone in the room. “Just because it was your father’s fight,” Ma said in a raspy voice, “doesn’t mean it has to be yours.” My eyes settled on hers, surprised at how she constantly managed to read my mind, to know what was going on in my heart. “I know, Ma,” I said. But I didn’t know that. Not for sure. What if it were a calling or something? What if taking up this cause was my destiny? I kissed Ma on the cheek and went to my room, settling into the desk chair. My blog was opened up on my monitor. Comments about the protest were rolling in. They were waiting for my response. My opinion about the event mattered to them. I felt flattened with the responsibility, but I couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t disappoint. My fingers hovered over the virtual keyboard and I tapped out an enthusiastic cheer. We showed them! We’ll keep shouting our message until they hear. One day, we will see justice! Exhaustion claimed me and I flopped onto my bed. I played with my ComRing, twisting the platinum nervously around my finger. Tomorrow I’d feel different. My mind was messed up because I was tired. All I needed was a good sleep and everything would be fine. Everything would not be fine. Eventually I dozed off, blissfully unaware that the next day would trigger events that would change my life forever. And it would start with an unusual encounter with Zoe Vanderveen. The End I hope you enjoyed reading AMBITION. You can find out what happens to Noah and Zoe in the full-length novel PERCEPTION available on Amazon and at most e-reader stores. Read on for the first chapter excerpt. PERCEPTION PART ONE ZOE Chapter 1 I balanced on my surfboard, right thigh burning and salt water stinging my eyes, while the best wave of the early morning carried me like a goddess on a pedestal to shore. My older brother Liam and I shared a friendly competition, and it gave me a certain, blissful satisfaction to catch the same wave and to get to shore first. “Beat ya!” I shouted over the noise of the crashing surf. Seagulls flocked and circled over us, squawking loudly, adding to the cacophony. The sun glistened off Liam’s damp blond curls as he shook them out. His eyes sparkled as his lips tugged up into a grin. “I let you win.” “Did not!” I smacked him playfully on the arm. “One more ride?” Liam unzipped his wetsuit letting the top half fall down past his waist. He was in fine form, and I understood why all the girls raved about him. He was responsible for a long list of broken hearts. “I gotta get going,” he said, lifting his board. I fell into stride beside him, my feet sinking into the cold, wet sand. “So soon?” He nodded, the glint leaving his eyes. My lips tightened into a frown “You’re taking off with Jackson again?” Jackson was my boyfriend but lately he’d been spending more time with my brother than he had with me. It was starting to tick me off. Liam stared straight ahead. “Lab stuff.” “What are you working on?” I rushed to keep up with my brother’s long, strong strides. He flicked his head, tossing the hair out of his eyes but didn’t answer. “Come on,” I knocked into him sideways. “Tell me!” “It’s just stuff.” “Just stuff? Like what? Top CIA stuff? I know you’re smart but I think the government has been doing a good job without your help.” I meant it as a joke, but Liam huffed. “It’s just stuff, okay? So leave it.” I stopped short, shocked that he’d snapped at me. He turned around and exhaled, “Zoe, I’m sorry.” “Fine. If you can’t tell me, you can’t tell me.” We resumed our trek along the beach, and I pushed back my frustration. Liam used to include me in everything. It was always him and me against everyone else. Him and me against Alison and Paul, aka our mom and dad. Him and me against the surf. We were a team. When did we start keeping secrets from each other? Rather, when did he start keeping secrets from me? I re-adjusted my board under my arm. Maybe I could get Jackson to unzip his lips. Especially if I helped him. He could be easily persuaded if I poured on the charm. I hated to go behind my brother’s back for information, but something about all this–this, whatever it was that Liam was doing–made me uneasy. I couldn’t pinpoint why, it just did. We reached our home, a massive glass box with two floors of windows facing the Pacific Ocean. It was built after the San Andreas Fault shifted and triggered the Big Quake that, along with the subsequent tsunami, wiped out ten miles of shoreline. A nearby white-stucco storage shed housed all our water toys. We stopped there to hang up our wetsuits to dry. “Thanks for surfing with me today.” Liam said, smiling at me, back to his jovial self. “I know it was a sacrifice for you to get up so early.” I smiled in return. “No problem. It was fun.” Surfing with Liam was one of my most favorite things to do. “You’re back for dinner?” I asked. Liam didn’t know it, but once he left, I’d be spending the rest of the day preparing for his surprise birthday party. He’d turned twenty-one yesterday and had celebrated at a bar with his friends. I couldn’t go because I was underage, and it irked me that Jackson went and that he and Liam had once again shared a significant moment without me. I took consolation in the fact that Alison and Paul gave me free reign to plan this party. My heart beat with excitement, and I couldn’t wait to see his face when he got home and found the house full of his friends. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he answered. I bit my cheek to keep my voice even. “Good. We’ll see you, then.” Our property tiered twice before connecting with the sandy beach. Three glass doors slid open disappearing into the corner and creating a wall-less view of the stone patio that encased an eternity pool. Its waters slipped over the far edge into a waterfall that was collected again on the second tier. Liam strode into the house, through the living room and down the hall to his bedroom at the back, his wet shorts dripping on the glossy white tiles. I tightened the towel around my waist and climbed the open-slat staircase to my room. As I passed the maid, Saundra something, her brown face blanched. She stumbled slightly before grabbing the rail and catching herself. “Excuse me,” she said softly at my astonished expression. The woman really didn’t look well, and I was thankful for my enhanced immunization. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about diseases brought in from the outside. “Are you okay?” I asked. She nodded weakly, and proceeded to clean the rails. A trill of anticipation reclaimed my thoughts. I couldn’t wait for tonight. The door beside my bathroom opened into a second room, a walk-in closet big enough to house another bedroom set. Racks of clothes and shoes lined the walls, a well-lit mirror station was located near the sky light and a cushioned leather bench was placed in the middle for sitting. I stood in my closet and stared at the rows of sundresses, blouses and shorts. What to wear? I settled on a lace blouse and cotton shorts, then went to take a luxurious shower, rinsing the sea water out of my long, blond hair. I leaned into the built-in seat that was designed specifically for my body height and shape. Laser lights mapped my head and twenty-eight silicon fingers reached out to massage my scalp while shampooing and conditioning my hair. Most days I had to watch or I’d doze off, but today I was excited. I commanded the water to turn off as soon as the rinse was done. When I was dressed and my hair combed out and tied back, I slipped my platinum Communication Ring onto my left middle finger. I tapped it which produced a holographic image of my phone apps on my palm. I touched the clock icon and holographic digital numbers appeared in the air. Ten already? Where did the time go? That was the thing with summer holidays; every hour ran languidly into the next. I imagined the cook and her crew were busy preparing for the party in the kitchen. I’d requested fresh sea food and simulated roast, fresh fruit and vegetables, an assortment of fancy chocolates and baked items, plus a three-tiered, surfer-themed birthday cake. I skipped down the stairs to check on the progress, but in my hurry to the kitchen, I slammed into a body. “Sorry,” a male voice said. I stepped back, agitated. I recognized the dark-haired boy wearing the white tunic my mother made the male staff wear. He was the maid’s son. He held a wet mop in his hand, and I figured he’d been cleaning up Liam’s spotty water trail. He stepped politely out of the way, but the expression on his face was stoic. Even though he was clearly from the outside and the help, I still expected some small sign that what he saw when he viewed me was pleasing. A twinkle in the eye, a slight upturning of the lips. These were the responses I got from all the boys. The straight ones, anyway. He wasn't especially attractive but I didn't see people with his appearance very often. He had eyes the color of imported coffee beans and skin like caramel candy. His nose was wide and his jaw-line sharp. I was suddenly intrigued by him and surprised myself by thinking he looked exotic. “Excuse me, what was your name again?” I asked. “Noah.” Right. I remembered now. I waited for him to say something, but he stayed quiet. Footsteps echoed from the hall above. My parents spoke together, their muffled voices floating across the high ceilings. “Do other maids send their sons to do their work?” Alison's voice had a brassy tone that carried through the cavernous space. I felt a flare of red creep up my neck when I realized Alison was talking about Noah. My eyes darted to his, but he kept his averted. “He does a good job,” Paul responded. “That's the main thing. Besides you know they need the money.” “So we're charity now?” “What's wrong with a little charity? Besides, they're not just anybody.” “I don't care. I still don't trust him.” I was mortified. My feet felt cemented to the floor and I didn’t know what to say. Anything would come off as trite since nothing I could say could undo what Noah had heard. “Did you know the Pikes have a household robot now?” Alison, again. “Apparently it’s very efficient, and at least Mary doesn’t have to worry about things going missing.” Noah’s jaw tightened and he turned his back to me. He attacked Liam’s dried and dusty water spots aggressively and soon had disappeared around the corner. “Zoe?” Alison click-clacked down the wooden stairs. She wore a pale yellow pant suit and high heels even though it was Saturday. She was in-between careers now, having spent the last fifteen years in law. She barely looked thirty years old and with lots of time ahead of her, she could do anything. Probably several things. “Mom! You have to keep your voice down. How many times do I have to tell you your voice travels in this glass box? “Oh.” She looked mildly shaken. “No matter. Is everything coming together to your satisfaction?” “I’m just checking in on things now.” “Your father and I are meeting people for lunch. What time is the party again?” I blew a frustrated breath. She could at least pretend she cared enough to remember details I’d told her a dozen times already. “Seven.” “Right. We’ll see you at seven.” Things proceeded throughout the day as planned and I was pleased with my ability to pull off an event like this on my own. The decorators showed up at 1:00 as promised. The band arrived to set up at 3:00. I got dressed at 4:30, having bought a thigh-length mini-dress that sparkled with tiny crystals just for the occasion. My hair and makeup girl arrived at 5:00. I tapped my ring and called Jackson at 5:30. “Where are you?” I said to the three-inch holographic image of him that popped up above my palm. “You said you’d help.” “Sorry, Zo. Got tied up at home.” “Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.” It was odd. No one in Sol City ever got really sick, but it wasn’t unheard of to get run down if you pushed yourself too hard. Jackson had been working a lot lately. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Uh, spent most of the day in bed.” I felt a little panicky. “You’re still coming, aren’t you?” “Of course. I’ll be there soon.” Alison and Paul arrived at 6:30 along with all of mine and Liam’s friends. I hushed everyone at 6:55, giving instructions on when to shout “Surprise!” It was all a wasted effort. Liam never showed.