I tried not to miss him, which just made me miss him more. Without him, part of me went numb. Like I wasn’t quite awake in his absence. In my mind, Justin was as temporary as the birds that passed through my life for a brief, exhilarating moment, but continued on because their survival depends on constant movement. My brain had decided to let go of my crush. Now I just had to convince my heart to follow.
“I bet he’d love to see you tonight,” Mom said.
“I don’t think he does formal events.” Especially ones that support digital school, I wanted to add.
She admitted she told Dad about my date with Justin. I leaned back on the seat and shook my head.
“It wasn’t a date. Would you stop trying to make this a bigger deal than it is?” It was depressing enough that Justin wasn’t interested in me. Did I have to spell it out for my mother?
“Well, your father wasn’t happy to hear about it,” she said under her breath.
I looked out at the dark night sky, broken up between clusters of frozen lights.
“I think I’m old enough to start making decisions for myself,” I said.
Our ZipLimo came to a smooth stop in front of the Stratford House, a historic hotel and conference center on the west side of Corvallis. The hotel was a spacious white mansion, with tall Doric columns framing the two-story oak doors; all of the ground-level windows were decorative stained glass. The white marble steps leading up to the doors were dressed in red carpet and roped off in gold ribbon to honor the guests. A concierge greeted us as the doors of our ZipLimo slid open.
“Good evening, Mr. Freeman,” he said, recognizing my dad as he stepped out of the car behind the security guard. News cameras were waiting behind the gold ribbon barricade and photographers snapped pictures frantically when they recognized my dad. Reporters fired questions as we stepped onto the velvet carpet in front of the hotel. I squinted as lights flashed and blazed in our direction.
Dad wrapped one of his arms around my mom’s waist and he locked his other arm tightly inside mine. We stood and smiled as flashes showered us in a strobe light.
“People are rioting in New Jersey, Kevin. Do you think DS could lose its nationwide support?” one reporter yelled out.
My dad’s calm smile never faltered. His hard eyes lost any of the childish light I saw earlier.
“Digital school is stronger than ever,” my dad said. “The program is right and it’s working.” He emphasized the words right and working, as if his statement was a scientific fact, not an opinion, and his confidence quieted the reporter.
Another reporter took the floor. “A study at DS Berkeley claims eighty-five percent of sixteen-year-olds want the choice of whether to attend digital school. What do you think about that, Mr. Freeman?”
“Every child deserves a safe, free, and quality education. That is what we provide,” my dad stated. “When they are eighteen years old, or have met all the graduation requirements, they will be emotionally and mentally ready to opt out of DS. Until then, I will deprive no child of an education.”
I listened to my dad with fascination. His answers were always formulaic. He didn’t pause to think about the questions, he only listened for key words and plugged in the calculated response he’d scripted for these kinds of events, like an automated recording. Fast. Emotionless. Efficient.
The three of us stood outside for another hour, allowing photographers to snap our pictures and the media to either praise or criticize my father, a scene I had grown accustomed to whenever I was in public with him. When we finally made it inside the labyrinthine lobby, Mom checked our coats and I walked into the huge dining hall, set with over a hundred round tables. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling and sprinkled dim yellow lighting around the room. I always loved the grand chandeliers, their long and slender gold arms holding balls of light. We found our table at the head of the room, where it was every year, near the stage where my dad would give his annual speech to highlight another successful year in DS and promise another one yet to come.
Paul and his sister Becky were already sitting at our table. Becky was typing on her phone and Paul yawned as he picked at some cheese and crackers on his plate. I sat down next to him and felt him gaping at me.
“Madeline,” he said. I offered Paul a forced smile and told him it was good to see him. He ran his eyes down my dress. “You look really pretty,” he said. I winced and thanked him with a smile that felt more like a grimace. His sister glanced up from her phone long enough to catch my reaction.
“That color looks really good on you,” he added. I felt my face flush.
“Paul, you might want to wipe that drool off your chin,” Becky said, and gave me a sympathetic frown. Paul’s parents sat down across from us at the table and my parents sat on the other side of me. I could feel Paul still staring dumbly at me out of the corner of my eye. I sighed to think that the tiniest glimpse from Justin set my heart completely out of rhythm while a glance from Paul made me cringe.
“How’s school going, Madeline?” Paul’s mom, Meredith Thompson, asked. I was about to answer her when my dad interrupted.
“She’s in the ninety-seventh percentile of her class,” he said. “Right now she’s trying to sift through all the college offers out east.”
“Very impressive,” Paul’s dad, Damon, said. “It helps that she has two role models to look up to.” I nodded politely at Damon, who was the city sheriff, my dad’s best friend, and my probation officer. He offered to do the latter as a favor to my dad.
A waiter in a black tuxedo set down salads and bread at our table.
Meredith put her hand on Paul’s arm. “Paul began his police academy credits last month. He’s already shadowing Damon.”
Paul grinned in my direction to make sure I was absorbing Meredith’s news. I held back a deep sigh. No wonder my dad was encouraging Paul to date me. Just one more set of eyes to keep me in check. I glanced around the room and noticed how quiet the atmosphere was. I watched groups of people, eight per table, picking at their food in silence. Every year I felt like the effort of face-to-face socializing was becoming more awkward for people. I looked over at Becky, who was messaging her contacts. I observed a handful of people at every table peering into their own hand-held, portable lives. It’s ironic, I thought, here is life passing, like clouds drifting over the sky, yet they don’t see what’s right in front of them. They believe there is something more substantial going on in that little screen in their hands.
I looked down at my plate. It wasn’t that I felt better than these people. Just out of place.
A voice boomed over the speaker system and I jumped in my seat. On the main stage in front of our table, an older man with a thick head of gray hair combed smoothly back on his head held a microphone and addressed the audience.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the fifteenth annual National Education Benefit.”
An energetic applause rang out and I tapped my fingers together.
“To commence this honorary night, please welcome the designer of DS himself, Kevin Freeman.”
The applause escalated and soon everyone in the room was on their feet as my dad marched to the podium through a flash of lights. I set my napkin on the table and rose to join the crowd. He shook hands with the announcer and stood, proud as an eagle perched on the highest branch of the tallest tree. He beamed out at his ecstatic supporters.
“Thank you.” The crowd slowly settled back down in their seats. I folded my hands in my lap and stared at my father, preparing myself for the startling statistics he threw out every year to fire up the crowd. When the cheering quieted down my dad continued.
“There’s much to celebrate. Please, raise your glasses and toast to the most successful educational program ever initiated in the history of this great country.”
The room erupted in whistles and shouts of agreement as everyone raised their glasses in the air. I looked around and felt a chill run through my body to witness so many powerful people who ado
red my father.
“Digital school is a success,” he yelled, and people hollered and cheered in agreement. I exhaled sharply and straightened up in my seat. Did they have to cheer after every sentence?
“Teenage violence is at an all-time low.”
Cheers rang out again.
“Teenage shootings and deaths have fallen sixty-seven percent since 2048, when this program was initiated.” The audience interrupted my dad with a celebratory roar.
“Teenage recreational drug use has fallen sixty-six percent.” Again, he paused for the applause.
“Since the implementation of this program, teenage suicide has fallen forty-five percent. Teenage pregnancy has fallen a staggering ninety-one percent!”
The crowd stood on their feet again and cheered with jubilation. I stood up as well and observed the room and the man standing on the stage in front of me. My dad soaked up the adoration like a sponge before he continued.
“One hundred percent of the children and young adults in this country receive a free education with the free resources necessary to make their lives and this world a better place. Every child and young adult in this country has access to a safe, challenging, secure educational program that is the finest this world has ever offered and will ever offer. American students currently test the highest in the world. This program is working and it will continue to work. Digital school has made education what it’s intended to be and America has never been safer for our children.”
The standing ovation after his speech took several minutes to dissolve and my dad was swept away by the press to give interviews.
I drummed my fingers on the table, too keyed up to eat my dinner, and looked over at Becky, who was still absorbed in her phone.
“Isn’t this party exciting enough for you?” I joked.
She gave me a sly grin. “My friend’s at a table on the other side of the room and we’re rating who the hot guys are in here.” My eyes took a turn around the room and I frowned at the sea of older couples. What hot guys were there to rate?
“What are you up to tomorrow?” Paul suddenly asked. I blinked in surprise and stared into his blue, confident eyes. I studied Paul’s face—his smooth, flawless skin and high cheekbones. His thick blond hair was spiked at the top of his head. He was attractive, there was no doubt about it. Then why did I find him so irritating? Was it only because he was safe and predictable? Was it because he was the one boy I could date with my father’s approval? What was the challenge in that?
“I have a paper to write,” I told him.
“I thought we could go on a chatwalk.” He said it as more of a statement than a question.
I chewed on my bottom lip and tried to think of an excuse.
“I just got a program to hike Mount McKinley. Are you up for that?” he asked with a grin, as if his adventurous spontaneity would leave me speechless. I played with the napkin on my lap and stalled.
“It’s hard for me to chat at such high altitudes,” I finally said.
He laughed at me. “Okay, we could stay closer to sea level. How about a walk along the beach?”
I picked up a piece of bread and chewed a corner of it as I thought this through, trying to find a nice way to say no. In all the years I’d known him, even chatted with him online, he’d never asked me out. I decided to answer him with the one response I knew he’d never expect.
“We could just take a shuttle to the beach and actually walk.”
Paul stared at me like I had just suggested dropping out of DS and joining the circus.
“Why would we do that?”
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
“It’s always raining at the beach,” he pointed out. “And it’s freezing.”
I stared back at his bewildered expression. “Can’t you handle a little rain?”
Paul sat up straighter in his seat and lifted his chin. “Of course I can handle it. I just don’t think you would like it.”
I smiled. “Right, of course.”
Paul wrinkled his forehead as he tried to read me. I glanced around the room again and had the feeling that someone other than Paul was watching me. I looked over at my dad instinctively, but he was still buried in a mob of reporters. Then I saw him, standing next to Riley and Jake in the back corner of the room. I felt the air stop in my lungs halfway through a breath. Justin met my eyes and offered me a subtle smile, a smile more cautious than friendly, more intense than lighthearted. I felt like I was melting into my chair. In the two weeks since I’d seen him, I’d forgotten the way his presence was like high-voltage electricity coursing through the room. My mother leaned toward me.
“He’s been watching you all night,” she whispered between her teeth so Paul couldn’t hear her.
I was finally able to drop my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“Because I wanted you to be able to think straight, Maddie,” she said. “That young man has a strange effect on you and your father would have noticed something was up.”
Becky caught on to our whispering and looked over to see who we were talking about. She gawked when she realized it was Justin and set her phone down for the first time all night.
“You know him? We just voted him unanimously the hottest guy here.”
I grinned at Becky and couldn’t help but nod in agreement. In his dark slacks, black dress shirt, and suit jacket, Justin looked like the model celebrity invited to boost the benefit’s media coverage.
“Would you both stop staring?” I pleaded, and forced myself to avoid his eyes, eyes that tugged at me with a magnetic force. What was he doing here? Why didn’t he warn me he was coming?
Paul looked across the room and smirked. “You know those guys?” he said condescendingly.
“I might.”
“You don’t want to get mixed up with that crowd,” he said. “Especially Justin. His parents were arrested, on more than one occasion.”
My mouth dropped open so fast you could practically hear it.
“What?”
My mother watched me carefully. I looked at her and stole another glance at Justin. He was facing his friends now, still across the room from us.
“Cool,” Becky said, and gushed in his direction.
“Breaking the law is hardly cool, Becky. Grow up,” Paul scolded.
“What did they do?” I asked, still looking at Justin. As if he could feel my stare across the room, he turned and his dark eyes met mine again. I quickly looked away.
“I don’t know for sure. I think they led a few riots in D.C., back when DS was going national. They served a couple years in prison.”
I looked back at Justin. He was talking to Jake and they were both laughing. I never would have guessed he came from a family with that kind of background. And I thought I had a sketchy past.
“Is he dangerous?” Becky asked. She sounded more hopeful than afraid.
Paul shrugged. “People are less concerned with him. I heard he emancipated himself from his parents when he was younger. I think he grew up in a foster home or something. So, I guess if his parents didn’t learn, at least he did.” Paul’s wide eyes met mine. “But he’s got a lot of baggage. I don’t know how much I’d trust a guy like that.”
Interesting, I thought. Justin insisted the one thing I could do was trust him.
I stole one more glance at Justin and found him watching me. He lifted his head and motioned for me to come over.
I picked the napkin off my lap and set it on the table.
My mother looked at me. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
“What, to miss the virtual shopping spree?”
She grabbed my hand and her eyes turned serious. “To mingle with that boy. You know it upsets your father.”
“He might not mind if he could learn to give people a chance.”
“I trust you,” she said. “You know I do. But I’d get back here before he notices you’re gone.”
I nodded and looked over at my dad, who was
still surrounded by a herd of photographers and reporters. I knew it would be at least another hour before he was done with interviews. I stood up and ignored the disapproval on Paul’s face. I walked the length of the room and felt Justin’s eyes on me the entire time, which made me feel self-conscious with each step. I tried to act like walking in heels didn’t require all my concentration not to trip.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as soon as I was in earshot.
He took a sip from his glass and set it down on the table behind him. “It’s nice to see you too,” he said.
“I doubt you were invited,” I said, and stuck my hand on my hip to pretend I wasn’t ecstatic to see him.
He shook his head. “I just love hearing your dad’s riveting annual statistics,” he told me.
“They are inspiring,” I agreed.
“I’m in town for a few days.” He looked over my shoulder. Even in my heels he was a head taller than me. “Say hi to Paul Thompson for me,” he added.
“Garrlgh,” I gagged. The corner of his lips curled up.
“What was that?”
“That was vomit creeping up the back of my mouth when you mentioned Paul’s name.”
Justin’s mouth widened into a full smile and he told me I should speak my mind more often. “You’re pretty funny when you do,” he said.
I soaked up his face and his eyes like someone soaks up rays of sun after days of rain and cloud cover. I felt starved of him. I glanced back over at my dinner table.
“Paul did invite me on a chatwalk next weekend,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve heard about those. Make sure you right-click on all the billboards you pass. You can win prizes.”
I rolled my eyes at his mocking face. If I didn’t feel so out of Justin’s league, I’d swear he was acting jealous.
“Is that why you’re here? To give me a hard time for being forced to endure bad company at a boring formal event?”