Pulse (2 page)

“Stay to the right, down the hall,” he said, flashing that smile again. “You’ll find your way. And don’t go past any of the barriers; some places are closed.”

Liz slid through the doorway before Mr. Reichert could hold out his hand, and the two girls were mercifully inside their new school. It was quieter than Faith had hoped, soft echoes from distant places bouncing off the long corridors heading off in three directions.

“Here we are,” said Faith, suddenly unsure about the tightness of her jeans and the specter of a new school.

“Yeah,” said Liz nervously. “Here we are.”

Old Park Hill was constructed and managed under the assumption that 2,000 students would pack its halls on a normal day. And there was a time when this had been true. Back in the 2010s the school had even been
over
populated for a while. But now the student body had dwindled to 80 students, down from 140 the year before. Faith’s previous school had been getting even smaller; at last count there had been 53. Old Park Hill, being the slightly less run down of the two, was now the proud host to all 133 students from both schools.

As Faith parted ways with Liz and began the search for her first classroom, she became aware of the almost complete lack of adult supervision. Budgets being what they were—nearly zero according to some estimates—the student-teacher-administrator ratio had gotten even worse. When there had been 2,000 students, there had been about 75 teachers. Now there were only 133 students, and a couple of teachers would have to suffice. And they’d need to double as the principal and vice principal.

One hundred and thirty-three students.

Two staff.

And one overworked janitor.

That was what high school was like at Old Park Hill in the year 2051.

Faith glanced down the hallway, searching for help finding her class, and saw a redheaded girl surrounded by guys. She had the white complexion of a fish’s underbelly, which made her green eyes look like shiny marbles about to pop out of her head. Faith knew this girl, Amy, from her old school. Faith wondered what the guys always saw in Amy; it must have been her curvy figure that attracted them.

“Hey, Amy!” Faith yelled down a long, nearly empty corridor. Amy turned at the sound of her name, her red hair moving softly like flames in a campfire. “Help me find English 300, will you?” None of the guys Amy was standing with had gone to Faith’s old school, but Amy had never been one to waste any time building a coalition of boys starving for her attention. The moment Amy saw Faith coming, she took the arm of one of them and dragged him into a classroom.

“Such a
tool
,” Faith whispered. Amy was the other person besides Liz who remained in Faith’s life from the old days. She still played a lot of junior high drama games, and when it came to guys, Amy was a terror.

Faith showed up late to her first class with Miss Newhouse, who made up one half of the teaching staff. Miss Newhouse hardly paid attention to anyone in the room, and this was the other reason why so few teachers were present at Old Park Hill.

They weren’t really needed.

It was often hard for Faith to imagine it any other way, so completely did her Tablet assume the role of teacher, counselor, and truant officer. The teachers didn’t teach. They babysat. The Tablet did all the real work. Lectures were streamed in from the best teachers in each of the two States, who were given multimillion-dollar contracts and fancy cars and big houses for being not only experts in their field, but outrageously talented at teaching the material they knew. The local teachers at Old Park Hill wouldn’t even administer tests. They were there to make sure no one got hurt, contain the drug use, stop fights from breaking out, and keep the lights on.

Faith sat down at her desk and reached for her Tablet. “Who do you have for English lit?” said a voice behind her. “I’ve got Rollins. Oh, my God, he’s insane.
So
good. If he weren’t teaching Shakespeare, he’d be a comic genius, no joke. Who do you have again?”

Faith turned around in her seat and saw a short, geeky-looking kid. “I haven’t said,” Faith whispered, and then turned back around as her own lecture started (not Rollins, but Buford, who was also amazing, but widely known as “not funny”). She put on her headphones and began listening while a red keypad was projected onto the flat surface of the desk in front of her. She was able to take notes on the lightboard and insert them on a time line running along the side of the lecture, where she would also be able to reference the material later. This was how she took quizzes and tests as well, and asked questions when she needed to. Teachers had between a thousand and ten thousand aides, depending on how many students were taking their classes. If a student had a question, he could type it in twenty-four hours a day and usually get an answer within five minutes. The Tablet delivered study halls, test prep units, and instantaneous feedback on homework. The only thing it didn’t provide was microwavable snacks, and there was a rumor floating around that a future version would even do that.

A message appeared along the bottom of Faith’s screen, which surprised her. Usually when a lecture began, her Tablet automatically locked out all incoming messages.

I see you got Buford. He’s pretty good. Rollins is better. What’s your name again?

Faith looked around the classroom, filled with thirty other students. Another message appeared on her screen.

Behind you : )

Faith slowly turned around and smiled painfully. Then she turned back to her Tablet, rolling her eyes as soon as she could without being seen by the crown prince of dorks.

Perfect,
Faith thought as she listened to Buford dissect the meaning of
Henry the Fifth
.
I’m here ten minutes, and I pick up a stalker. And a hacker.

Faith typed out a terse message and tapped
SEND
.

How did you activate messaging during a lecture? And I’m busy.

There was a pause of about four seconds.

Easy! There’s a back door in version 25. It takes about an hour to code for each Tablet, but once you’re in, you can com with anyone during lectures. It’s a two-way door when I open it. Cool, right? Didn’t you hear about it?

No,
Faith thought,
I don’t troll the online nerd threads.

Faith tried to listen to Buford until another message scrolled across her screen.

I’m Hawk. And you are?

Faith ignored Hawk and went back to work, tapping out notations and tagging them to the screen with her finger. She tapped the corner of the screen on the Tablet, and a menu appeared, from which she chose a drawing stylus. A square of soft light appeared on her desk next to the lightboard, and she began drawing the outline of a face. She was very good at faces and usually only needed to get a really good look at people once in order to draw them.

She looked around the room for a subject, taking in the new students, and her eyes landed on a guy in the back row. He wore skater shoes, skinny jeans, and a tight V-neck T-shirt. His hair was thick and black, and to her surprise, he was writing. With a pen. In a notebook. He seemed to be ignoring his Tablet.

She sent a message to Hawk and began drawing with her finger.

Who’s the caveman in the back row?

A moment later, Hawk answered.

Dylan Gilmore. He doesn’t talk too much. At least not to me. Also, he’s an a-hole.

Faith stole one more glance. The profile of his face and upper body revealed a strong chin and muscular arms.
Please be tall,
Faith caught herself thinking. Whatever he was working on, he was really into it. And his head was moving up and down. It looked to her like he was listening to music, not to a lecture. But that wasn’t possible. The Tablet wouldn’t let him do that during a lecture.

There were three more messages from Hawk before the lecture came to an end. When it did, Faith turned in her chair.

“Please don’t do that while I’m in the middle of a class. Buford is tough, and Shakespeare is confusing.”

“No problem, I can chill.
Suuuuper
chill. What was your name again?”

Faith rolled her eyes and got up to leave, but then she thought better of the idea and turned back. She could have worse things than a friend who was really bright and knew how to hack into a Tablet.

“It’s Faith. And no more messages during class, okay?”

“Totally, yeah. Got it. Faith.”

It dawned on her then that Hawk was probably a lot younger than she was. They were glomming the classes together more and more, because there didn’t seem to be a good reason not to. Faith was a junior, and by the looks of this little guy, he was probably a freshman.

“How old are you?” Faith asked as they walked out of the classroom.

“Seventeen. Okay sixteen. I mean, I’ll be sixteen in practically no time.”

There was a long pause in which Hawk decided she was going to find out soon enough.

“I’m thirteen.”

“Are you sure you’re not nine? You look like you’re nine.”

“Ouch,” Hawk said, holding his heart. “That one stung.”

Faith punched him on the arm. A low punch was required to miss the side of his head.

“Just kidding. You look at least eleven.”

“Really? Thanks!”

They laughed as they entered the corridor and looked both ways. Faith could imagine what it had been like when there were 2,000 students and 75 teachers. The energy must have been amazing. As it was, the place felt like a morgue. A few bodies moving between doors, a very low hum of voices.

“I wonder how long they’ll keep this place open,” Faith asked.

“Hard to say,” Hawk answered, making a note on his Tablet, which he had snapped to small and held in his delicate palm. “But I’ll see what I can find out.”

They were about to part when two tall figures arrived, entering the corridor from the far end of the building. At first Faith only saw their silhouettes against a bright window behind them. There was a confidence in these walking shadows that seemed out of place at Old Park Hill. As they came closer, Faith realized it was a guy and a girl, and that they were at least her own age.

“Who . . . ,” Faith started to ask, but Hawk was already on it. “Wade and Clara Quinn,” Hawk said, leaning in a little close to catch the scent of Faith’s perfume while he thought she was distracted. “Believe it or not, they’re in the Field Games, representing the outside. They’re scary smart, too. Also a-holes.”

Faith was starting to think Hawk thought everyone at Old Park Hill was an a-hole. But she didn’t mention it, because Wade Quinn was staring at her. His sister had peeled off, but Wade’s eyes were locked on Faith. It was like there was no one else in the world. The closer he got, the better looking he was, until he was standing right next to her and she was doing something she rarely ever did. Faith Daniels, five feet eleven, was looking
way
up at a boy.

“How tall are you?” she said without even thinking. It just tumbled out of her mouth unexpectedly.

Wade smiled, blond hair falling down around blue eyes.

“Tall enough,” he said. “I’m Wade.”

“Hey, Wade. How’s it going?” Hawk asked.

Wade didn’t look at Hawk or answer his question, but he nodded at him, never taking his eyes off Faith. They were having a
moment
, both of them instantly attracted to each other. Their eyes kept making contact, then dashing quickly to the floor or a locker. Wade loved tall girls, the taller the better, and he liked the way Faith’s hair fell over one bright eye like she was toying with him. For Faith, it was Wade’s light-blue eyes and the curl of his lips. She could imagine staring into that face for hours just for the pleasure of looking at it.

“Cool,” said Hawk, like he and Wade were having a conversation they clearly were not having. “I’m good. I’m really good. This is Faith. She’s new.”

Wade’s sister, the other half of the Twins, arrived beside him. She was almost as tall as he was, and gorgeous. She had surprisingly short hair that focused gawkers on her athletic, chiseled face. And her long, lean body offered plenty of curves, too.

“Holy shit, you’re tall,” said Faith. It was rare for her to encounter a girl this much taller than she was. Clara Quinn had to be six feet two.

“Thank you,” Clara said, studying Faith from top to bottom. “I think.”

She nudged Wade on the shoulder to get him moving, and the two of them continued down the nearly empty corridor. Wade turned back.

“Nice pants.”

And then he was gone around a corner.

Hawk glanced behind Faith, checking out the pants.

“Those are definitely nice. Did you order them from the Western State? I can get things a lot cheaper from the Eastern State. I know; it doesn’t make any sense, right? Which is why it makes sense.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see you later then.”

Faith started walking away in a love-crush daze, searching for her next class, and Hawk called after her.

“Be careful, Faith. The Twins are pretty intense. Better to stay off their radar.”

But it was too late for Faith Daniels.

She’d only been at Old Park Hill for two hours, and she’d already fallen under Wade Quinn’s spell.

Chapter 2
Grade School Break-in

Faith lived in Bridgeport Commons, which at one time had been an upscale place to raise a family. There were hundreds of houses and complexes surrounding a man-made lake in the middle, and Faith lived in one of the narrow, three-story units at the edge of a tree-lined sidewalk. The development included paths for running and walking, a pool, and even a grade school at the far end where all the little kids could get an education safely without venturing very far into the world outside. If she walked out of Bridgeport Commons and took a left, the mall where Faith had sat and purchased a song was only ten minutes away.

By the time Faith was born, Bridgeport Commons had been mostly vacated. A man lived alone at the end of the block, but otherwise the twelve-unit building Faith called home was empty. She didn’t know for sure, because she hadn’t grown up there, but she had a sense that the neighborhood had once been home to a thousand or more people. Now there were maybe a dozen, scattered around the lake, unwilling to move to the Western State until they were forced inside for good. The ones who remained were mostly cleanup crew, preparing new space for the ever-expanding Western State. But for the most part, the people who remained outside the Western State did so at their own peril. They were off grid, on their own, living day-to-day on what they could find. Food was scarce, and medical services were nonexistent. The idea was not to force people into the States, but to wear them down. Sooner or later almost everyone gave up, and then the State system would swoop in and take anyone who wanted right into the comforting arms of modern living.