The New Girl (Downside) (13 page)

She looks away from the television as a man strapped in a chair starts screaming. ‘Jane,’ she says, ‘can I talk to you?’

Jane does not lift her eyes from the screen. ‘Yes.’

‘Why did you bring that brown to the house?’

‘Father asked me to interact with it.’

‘Why?’ She knows that questioning Father’s instructions could be seen as disregard, but she is curious.

‘I don’t know. The educator says it is my chum.’

‘Chum?’

‘A friend and a buddy, you know? And I thought it would be interesting to converse with it.’

‘Was it interesting?’

‘No.’

‘How is the scouting going?’ When she asks Father anything about the project, he tells her she doesn’t need to know.

‘Fine.’ Jane watches as the screaming brown’s eyeball is popped by the tip of a whirring drill.

Penter smiles brightly like she’s seen the Mothers do on the television. ‘And how was your day?’

‘Motherfucking typical,’ Jane says. The halfpint absorbs language from the television like a root-fibre rag. Penter’s envious of Jane’s young, flexible mind.
‘Mother, can I have a pet?’

‘A pet?’

‘A creature who will be my constant companion, like a My Little Pony only not so much scum. Can I ask Danish to scout me one?’

‘I’ll ask Father for you.’

Without taking her eyes off the screen, Jane intones, ‘Thank you, Mother. I love you, you are the bestest awesomest raddest person in the whole world.’

Penter knows that Jane is just replaying the upside cant she’s seen in the movies, but shouldn’t those words still make her feel blissful?

‘I love you too, Jane,’ Penter tries. She feels nothing. Perhaps she has a subviable heart.

She goes out into the precinct to look at the beans. Yes, when she touches the little green shoots she feels a shift in her chest. She taps the bony nodule just below her neck, listening to the
hollow rap. She touches the beans again, but the feeling is gone.

Aware of the luxury of the act, she pulls a bean off its stem and places it in her mouth. The victual documents always show the servant rinsing the produce under running water, as if their
stomachs cannot process soil. This must be an affectation of the browns, and such a waste of fresh water. If there’s one thing a real downsider is used to, it’s soil. The Ministry
research report confirmed that downsiders’ constitutions are more robust than the frail systems of upsiders, although whichever Ministry drone typed this report has clearly never tried
youngberry-flavoured yogurt.

She plucks another bean, rubs it against her face. She likes how it feels; a whole, viable living thing that has sprouted out of nothing. The documents talk of
miracles
, which seems to
be a catch-all term for everything their intellect cannot encompass. If she were retarded she might, today, standing in the produce patch, rubbing a bean on her skin, believe in the meat tree.

‘Mother,’ she hears Father say behind her. ‘I thought I’d find you lurking in the garden.’ She turns to face him. Danish is shuffling behind him, carrying a
basketful of coloured packages. ‘We have selected two primary viables, faster than I anticipated. All is slick.’

‘Primo news, Father.’

‘Yes.’ His smile falters. Penter knows what this means. If the primaries have been selected, it cannot be long before they return home.

‘I have brought you a gift,’ Father says as Danish places the basket at her feet. It’s full of plastic packets of soup like the kind on the advertisements, and icy boxes
labelled ‘Chicken Nuggets’, ‘Hash Browns’, ‘Cheesy Corn Dogs’, and ‘American Fries’.

‘Tasty and convenient victuals to make your Mother work less odious,’ Father says. ‘Father knows best!’

‘Thank you.’ The food in the basket doesn’t look appealing. It reminds her of the scum traded at McColon’s and Bleed back home. In fact, she would far rather eat a bowl
of unwashed beans than a cheesy corn dog, but as the Mother, she must prioritise the needs of the family. And, she reminds herself, this gift is a sign of Father’s regard.

‘I must report to the Ministry,’ Father says. ‘And you must go chain yourself to the kitchen sink.’

‘Father... Jane brought a brown to the house today.’ She watches his face – by anyone’s standards he’s scenic, although, like her, he has had only limited
modification – and tries to interpret his expression. He looks unfazed. ‘Why did you ask Jane to interact with her?’

‘That information is on a need-to-know basis, Mother. And you don’t need to know.’ Penter has wondered what Father does while he locks himself away in his office for all those
hours. Evidently watching upside movies is among his duties.

‘Is it a new regulation from the Ministry? I am... not sure what to say in my report.’

‘I’ll handle the report. It is not in your purview to do so.’

‘But it is part of my protocol to—’

‘Do not concern yourself, Mother.’ He smiles at her gently and turns away.

Confused, she watches him return to the house. She wonders what it would be like to feel love for him. For Jane. To be part of an upside family. Then she shakes her head and reminds herself who
and what she is.

She’s the Deputy Node Liaison for the Ministry of Upside Relations, Penter Ulliel, not a yogurt-eating, love-prattling brown.

Ryan can’t sleep. He gets his phone and dials Ziggy. He needs to know if Alice is okay; he needs to know if he blew it with her last night.

‘Hello?’

‘Ziggy. Hi, it’s Ryan.’

‘Jesus... It’s... six o’clock in the morning.’ Ryan hears the distorted rustle and creak of Ziggy getting out of bed, creeping out to the hallway. He’s always
suspected that Ziggy has a crush on him. Ziggy doesn’t want to lie in bed next to his boyfriend and talk to Ryan, but at the same time, he’s not going to hang up. ‘What do you
want, Ryan?’ he says now, in a quiet voice.

‘When Alice came in last night, how was she?’

‘What do you... Do you mean you don’t know?’

‘Know what?’

‘They don’t stay here any more. They moved out.’

‘When?’

‘About three, four months ago. Yes, New Year’s Day.’

‘Where did they go? How could Karin—’

‘She’s doing well, Ryan. She’s got a permanent job. At a bank. Perks and everything. You mean you seriously don’t know?’

‘No. So where are they staying now?’

‘I’m not telling you that. You weren’t even supposed to know that they had come to stay with us. After what you did, I shouldn’t even be talking to you.’

‘Jesus, Ziggy. Don’t start that. You know I never hurt Alice.’

‘I think I do. That’s why I’m talking to you. But you need to give up. She’s moved on, she’s doing well. Don’t drag her back.’

‘I’m not the one who’s fucking dragging her back. Karin’s the fucking—’

‘Stop, Ryan. She’s my sister, and I’m on her side. You may not have hurt Alice – that I believe – but there are reasons Karin doesn’t want to be with you,
doesn’t want Alice near you. They’re compelling reasons and there’s no chance you’re getting them back. You must give up and forget about them.’

‘But—’

‘I don’t know what else to say. I’ve been quite clear.’ The phone muffles again and Ryan can hear Ziggy talking to someone. ‘I’m going now. Thanks for waking
me up, by the way. This is the problem with you, Ryan. There’s a missing piece somewhere in the empathy department. Just give it up.’

Ziggy cuts the call before Ryan can say anything. There’s nothing to say, though, is there? ‘Something missing’? Didn’t Julie say something like that yesterday? All of a
sudden he’s surrounded by shrinks, by holier-than-thou saints who know what his fucking
problem
is?
They’re
his fucking problem, that’s what. He slams his phone
onto the bedside table, knocking over a half-empty coffee cup. Fuck!

He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. It’s only then that he remembers going outside to get some fresh air, and... What in hell possessed him? Tess lives next door, for
Christ’s sake. It’s only a matter of time before her father finds out, and Ryan doesn’t rate his chances against Fransie.

Ryan’s panic doesn’t flitter and zing, it curls up and stiffens like an animal playing dead, waiting for the moment to run. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do.
He’s going to have to cut and run. Again.

What in hell possessed him?

While he was with Tess in her little hideaway, he kept thinking of the new girl down at Crossley College, the strange one, that pale one who looks like she has so much hidden deep inside; pain,
fear and, yes, a sort of uncanny confidence. He wants to get beneath her skin, but somehow he can’t even come close. And now he’s fucked it up again, because of her. He’s going to
have to leave, take what he can grab, and go. All because of her.

He showers and gets dressed quickly and heads straight for the school, darting a look at Tess’s house as he passes. Even this early, Fransie’s father’s sitting there on his
rocker, watching him as he passes. He watches everyone, Ryan tells himself. He watches everyone. Would Tess have told her father already? He hopes that the normal rules will apply, just for a
couple of days. Even though they did nothing wrong, she’ll believe it’s wrong, that somehow she was to blame – she approached him after all – and she won’t want to get
him into trouble. But sooner or later Fransie will find out, and he can’t be here when that happens.

What the fuck is he going to do? Where is he going to go? He’s got nothing left.

‘Hello, Mr Ryan.’

Oh, Christ, not now. She’s ambushed him from behind the wall, just like she did last night. ‘Oh, Tess. Hi. How are you?’

‘Okay. I’m just... I was just...’ She’s already in her school uniform.

‘You’re up early.’

‘Uh, yes.’

‘Well, have a good day, okay?’

‘Uh. Um... Mr Ryan... You want to come visit again later?’

‘I...’ Ryan’s about to refuse. He wants this girl to be under no illusions, there’s no fucking way he’s going to ‘visit’ her again. But if he can keep
her onside – keep her from talking – for today at least, it will work in his favour. ‘Uh, sure, okay. But not so late, all right? You should get more sleep.’

Her face lights up in a big smile and the clump inside Ryan lightens a little with it. The girl’s happy. That’s all he ever wanted.

‘And Tess...?’ He lowers his voice.

She moves closer to him, replies softly, taking his lead. ‘Yes, Mr Ryan?’

‘You can’t tell your father, okay? He won’t understand. You’d get in big trouble.’

Her face becomes serious for a moment, and then she smiles again. ‘Of course, Mr Ryan. See you later,’ she says as she skips back into the garden.

Ryan darts a look back up at the veranda; the old man shows no sign of having heard anything. And then he remembers something: Cinderella turned back into a kitchen girl at midnight; it
wasn’t the other way around. She didn’t turn into a princess like he said. Alice would have challenged him, she would have told him he was talking rubbish, but Tess just smiled and
accepted it. Christ, she’s ten years old. Of course she’d know her fairy tales better than he does. Did Tess believe him, or does she just think he’s stupid? Is she secretly
laughing at him?

Whatever, he’s got more important things to worry about. He had thought getting himself straight would give him the chance to get Alice back into his life. But if what Ziggy says is true,
that chance evaporated months ago. Besides, there’s no way he can keep the job now. Fransie will easily find out where he works; Ma Beccah would tell Fransie in a minute if she heard what he
did. Seeing Karin last night was a shock: how clean she looked, how... responsible. Maybe deep down he knew it was over when he saw her. Maybe this thing with Tess was just his mind running ahead
of him, forcing him to move on.

So today’s the big break. He’s got to take what he can and disappear. He runs through his inventory. It’s a quick exercise; he’s got nothing to his name. He can’t
steal from Ma Beccah – she’s got nothing either – so he’s going to have to take something from the school and burn that final bridge too. When life gets beyond you like
this, it’s sometimes comforting just to go with the flow, cede all control.

So what should he take from the school? They don’t hold much cash, as far as he knows. He hasn’t noticed a safe in Duvenhage’s office, and there wasn’t anything of
instant value in his desk when he looked through it the other day... Hang on. He’s got the copy of Duvenhage’s flash drive. It was Duvenhage’s urgency that gave him the idea to
copy it; there might be some valuable information on it. Ryan’s not especially practised at blackmail, but these are extraordinary circumstances.

‘Morning, Mrs Fontein,’ he says with his best smile. ‘I wonder if you could help me.’ He holds up his flash drive. ‘My daughter typed out this
essay at her mother’s house and she forgot that I didn’t... well, I don’t have my own computer to print it out for her.’

Sybil Fontein glances across the hall at Duvenhage’s closed office door. ‘It’s not long, is it?’

‘No, no. Just a few pages.’ He smiles again and Sybil brushes the front of her blouse. ‘She put so much effort into it, and I really hate to let her down.’

‘Of course, of course, Ryan. You can use Cheryl’s work station. She’s not in till later.’ Sybil Fontein leads Ryan behind a partition and logs into the computer at the
admin assistant’s desk.

Ryan sits and slides the drive into the port. Sybil hovers behind him. He looks up over his shoulder at her. ‘It might take me a while to find the essay. All this other stuff on here. You
know how teenagers are.’

‘Oh, all right. Just let me know when you’re done.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Fontein.’

In truth, the flash drive only contains two files and a subfolder. Ryan clicks open the first file, which is in a generic text format. A row of blaring capitals spells out: ‘***THIS
DOCUMENT IS THE SOLE, PRIVATE AND STRICTLY TRUSTWORTHY PROPERTY OF THE MINISTRY OF UPSIDE RELATIONS THE MOST STRINGENT CORRECTION WILL BE APPLIED TO DISREGARD OF THIS NOTICE***’