Julia Karr - Truth

The smell of fresh-roasted coffee was like a friendly pat on the cheek as we eased into the dim interior. Soft jazz oozed from the walls. Chris took us to a booth in the corner. Seconds later, a waitress appeared.

“I’ll have a cuppa regular. Black.”

“And you?”

“I’ll just have water.”

“Don’t like coffee? We’ve got a variety of teas, and our To-Die-For Cocoa is phenomenal. I highly recommend it.”

“Okay, I’ll take that.” I looked around. Posters of musicians playing a variety of new and antique instruments dotted the walls. “You like jazz, huh?”

“Guilty as charged.” Chris stretched out in the booth. “It’s intricate. Each song is kind of like an unfolding puzzle. A mystery unraveling.”

“I’ve never listened to it,” I confessed.

“Well, we are in the right place for your initiation.”

The waitress reappeared with our drinks.

Chris lifted his cup. “To a better tomorrow.” We clinked them together, like on New Year’s. The dim lights hid my blush.

As I leaned back, the cocoa-scented steam filled my head. I closed my eyes, allowing the music to twine itself around my brain, down my spine, and into my belly. I couldn’t put words to how I felt—somewhere between nestled in loving arms and being urged to spread my wings and soar. When the song ended, I opened my eyes.

Chris, his cup cradled in his hands, a pensive smile on his face, said, “Nice, isn’t it?”

“How could I not have heard this before?”

“It’s on the watch list. Media doesn’t like it because it’s improvisational, so it doesn’t get much airplay. Feeling better now?”

“A little.”

“So you want to talk? I’m a good listener. And you know your secrets are safe with me.”

His face was so open, so sincere. I wanted to tell him everything. But here was not the place.

“Not here.”

“Let’s take a drive,” he said.

I was glad his trannie was surveillance-free.

As we wound north, through areas of Chicago I’d never seen, all the emotions I’d been holding inside since my mom’s death came tumbling out. My guilt. My shame. My anger. My fears. Everything. Well, everything except the Sisterhood’s plan to save Joan. That wasn’t my personal secret to tell. Although I more than touched on how Sal didn’t think that I (or any other girl) was capable of NonCon work. “You probably think the same thing.”

Chris reached over, covering my hand with his. “Nina, I have no doubt you can, and will, do whatever you need to do. From what I hear, you’re a lot like your mother. Something of which to be megaproud.”

My chest tingled at the compliment.

“And you have that glint in your eyes, same as your dad. He’ll stop at nothing to help set the world right again. I see that in you.”

“You know, they both sacrificed everything. Any kind of normal life… their love for each other… I don’t know if I can do that.” I turned my face away, willing the unbidden image of Sal to dissipate.

“Until the Governing Council is altered or disbanded, and the Media is reined in, there’s no decent normal for anyone. The best we can all hope for in this fight is friendship, dedication to truth, willingness to change, and love where we find it. You can do whatever you set your mind to, Nina. Of that I am certain.”

I almost believed him.

“Look at how you saved Wei,” he went on. “Without any special training and in the face of a terror I’ve never had to imagine. And Ed wasn’t just threating murder—even though I have a mother and sisters, I can’t know what the threat of rape means to a woman. But anyone who can live through that is a power to be reckoned with. A mighty power.”

Like a flash, I suddenly got it. Some people are capable of doing things to a woman that would reduce them to a hollowed shell. I thought of Joan. And those men who never would even dream of doing such horrific deeds would do anything to keep women safe from that terror. NonCons don’t want their sisters, wives, and daughters to get too close to that kind of danger. Still, they have no idea what kind of strength women are capable of, despite that danger.

I understood a little better why Sal and Mr. Jenkins were dead set against the Sisterhood’s involvement in anything that would expose the girls to that kind of sexual threat. But just because they felt helpless in preventing those kinds of attacks, that kind of torture, it didn’t change my mind about what girls could do.

Chris drove down a lane that stopped at the lakefront. The light of a full moon shimmered over the water, reflecting inside the vehicle. Chris brushed my bangs aside. “I’d give a card full of credits to know what you’re thinking.”

Our eyes met, and what I saw in his was not what I expected. I felt an irresistible urge to kiss him. He put his arm over the back of my seat and leaned close. My head tilted up, following my instincts—or was it my heart? His lips almost touched mine when he pulled back.

“Damn. It’s Wei.” He listened, then said, “Yeah, she’s still with me. We took a drive.” He shook his head. “Stop worrying. See you in a few.” After he clicked off, he said, “Guess we’d better go home.”

That break had shaken me. Chris was my best friend’s brother, my boyfriend’s friend, and my little sister’s crush. What was I doing? I was dating Sal—whom I loved. Right? I stared at Chris, steeling my heart. “What almost happened… it’s wrong,” I said.

He traced the moonlight down my cheek. “Nina. I’m not so sure,” he said.

“No, Chris. I can’t do this. I can’t do this to…” I trailed off. To Sal, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to say his name.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry, Nina. I thought—I thought you felt the same.” Chris started up the trannie, and we headed back. I leaned back against the seat and stared out the window at the moon, trying to figure out what it was I did feel.

“Nina, wake up.” Dee was at the side of my bed, shaking me. “Miss Maldovar called.”

“Huh? What time is it? When did you get home?” I sat up, groggy. My brain was still half asleep.

“It’s nine-thirty, and Maddie’s mom dropped me off half an hour ago. I wasn’t going to bother you, but then Miss Maldovar called. She told me about the Alert.”

“Why—” Miss Maldovar was the last person I thought would tell Dee anything about this. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, trying to buy myself some time. Taking a deep breath, I decided Pops was right: the truth couldn’t be hidden forever.

“Miss Maldovar told me the Alert said Ginnie was Ed’s assistant in that phony FeLS camp, but she wasn’t!”

“No, Dee, she wasn’t. That’s just what Kasmir Lessig said.”

“Miss Maldovar agreed with me, that Mom would never do anything like that. For a nanosec I thought she wouldn’t want me to be her assistant anymore, but she said it didn’t matter to her.”

“Dee, listen to me. Ginnie had nothing to do with Ed’s filthy scheme. But Media is saying she did. It’s all over the news. I think the government is trying to discredit Ginnie because of her connection to my father—the GC would do anything to ruin his reputation among the people who are part of the Resistance.”

“Can’t Mr. Jenkins set them straight? He’s a big Media guy, isn’t he? I’m going to go ask him right—”

“Stop. You can’t go bothering him about this. He’s already working on it.”

“You told him?” Dee came back and sat on the edge of my bed.

“I didn’t have to. He knows that Mom didn’t have anything to do with Ed, other than, well… you know.”