here.
“I was out with Jek,” I tell her, bracing for her disapproving grunt before she even makes it.
“Always with that boy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, bristling.
She strokes a hand along my hair in what’s meant to be a soothing motion. “Lulu, sweetie, I’ve known Jek since he was a little boy, just like you, and you know I care about him too...but you’re growing up now, and boys like that are only going to get you into trouble.”
I crane around to look at her. “What do you mean, trouble?”
She sighs and leans against the chair back. “I’m not saying he’d ever try to hurt you, but things are different for him. He can do whatever he wants and the world will give him all the second chances he needs. His mother indulges him, his teachers and everyone else. He can afford to screw around. You have to stay focused and work, mija.”
“You’re wrong about him,” I say, even though I know there’s no winning this argument with her. This is more about her own life experiences than anything to do with Jek or me. Just because she made some bad choices, she thinks I’m destined to go down the same path. “No one I know is harder working than Jek.”
Mom scoffs. “Because he plays around in his little laboratory? That’s not work, that’s fun. Work is what you do because you have to, not because you want to. Jek knows nothing about that.”
“Neither does Lulu,” Carlos comments idly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Why don’t you make her work? She could be useful at the store, but you keep her here like a little princess.”
Mom straightens up and turns on him. “That’s different. Lulu’s job is going to school, and I am not letting you talk her into going to work at that store of yours. She needs to stay focused on her studies so she can go to college and get a good job.”
I’ve heard this fight a million times, but at least it’s distracted Mom enough that I can finish up the virus check and escape to my room, leaving the continuing discussion behind.
My room at least is clean and calm, even if Mom is always hassling me about the mess. It’s not really messy—my bed is made and my laundry pile is manageable. What Mom hates are the old computers, phones and tablets stacked on every surface, many of them with their cases forced open so their electronic guts spill out. It may not be pretty, but it’s the best way for me to learn how all these parts work. Or don’t work, as the case may be—at least a few of these projects of mine will probably never be anything but doorstops. Still, you never know if you don’t try.
I move my latest project—overclocking the CPU of an old flip phone—from the bed and throw myself down on it, brooding over how wrong Mom is about Jek. He isn’t like the other London Chem kids, who only care about drinking and sex and who’s throwing the next kegger. Jek’s family may have money, but he’s always been marked as different, and no one will let him forget it. As one of the only black kids in town, he’s had to hold himself to a higher standard.
But as I lie there listening to the argument in the other room, my thoughts turn back to Hyde. If anyone would be a bad influence, it’s him. Something isn’t right about his friendship with Jek. For as long as I’ve known him, Jek has been private and hard to get close to—his friends have all had to earn his trust over the course of years. It’s not like him to become so close to someone so quickly. And even good friends don’t share banking info. Since Jek is aware of what Hyde did, at least I can be sure it wasn’t theft or hacking...but that doesn’t necessarily mean the money was freely given. What could Hyde have possibly said to convince Jek to front him this cash? Did he tell Jek, “I just assaulted a girl and I need to buy her silence?” Jek would never support something like that, I’m sure of it. Not even for a friend.
So maybe they aren’t friends, then. Maybe there’s some other reason Jek is helping him out...not out of friendship, but fear. Based on what Maia and Camila have told me, not to mention my own conversation with him, Hyde seems like the type who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. It’s possible he is controlling Jek somehow. Threatening him. But how? Threatening to hurt him or someone he loves? Or using some secret knowledge against him? I don’t know what Jek might be hiding, but I know better than most that everyone has their secrets.
I was only nine years old when the whispers started. I didn’t think anything of it at first, and even once I started to suspect they were whispering about me, I dismissed the idea as paranoia. What could anyone possibly have to say about me? Turns out it wasn’t about me—not exactly. It was my mom. Somehow the gossip had trickled down from the adult world to the schoolyard that my mom was having an affair with a client—a married man whose house she cleaned. One of the London Chem scientists.
I still don’t really know if the rumors were true, or exactly how far things went between my mom and this man. I don’t even know who it was—somehow the gossip never touched him, and as far as I can tell, he never paid any price. All I know is that shortly after that, my mom stopped cleaning for a while and spent most of a month on the couch, in a deep depression. We never talked about why, and I don’t want to know any more details than I’ve already heard. Ever since the day Jessie Holbrook finally said to my face what everyone in town had been saying behind my back, I’ve tried to shut my ears to any and all gossip that comes my way.
But I may have to abandon that policy now if I’m going to help Jek with whatever trouble he’s in. I know he told me to stay out of his business, but technically I’m not looking for information on him—it’s Hyde I’m after. A guy like that must have a mile-long list of things he’s hiding. If I could find something on Hyde—something illegal or immoral from his past that would destroy him if it became public—maybe that would neutralize his control over Jek and he’d be forced to back off.
* * *
These ideas comfort me enough to let me fall asleep, but by the next morning, they mostly feel silly. Identity theft, blackmail, threats...it all sounds a little far-fetched. The honest truth could just be that Jek’s changing. That he isn’t the same boy I grew up idolizing, sweet and brilliant and good-natured. I don’t want to believe that he would so easily slip into a friendship with someone like Hyde, but maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do. Maybe I’ve been hanging on to a version of Jek he’s left behind.
I’ve just about convinced myself to let everything go when Jek texts me Friday afternoon.
9 pm. My place.
It’s like there’s a competition between the boys in this town to see who can send the shortest texts. I want to text back a million questions—what’s at 9:00 p.m.? What are we doing? Does he want to confide in me? Apologize for our little fight the other day? Are we just going to watch a movie and pretend nothing happened? Or does he have some other plan?
Instead, I call Camila to consult with her.
“Oh, my God,” she exclaims when I’ve described his message to her. “It’s finally happening!”
“What’s happening? The message says practically nothing.”
“What do you mean? You’ve hooked him! It’s a date.”
“A date?” I repeat dubiously. “Come on, Camila. When a boy wants a date, he uses complete sentences. In my experience, a message like this is a request for a hookup.”
“Well, what’s so bad about that?” says Camila, not disagreeing. “Don’t you want to hook up with him? Why waste everyone’s time with dinner and some boring movie?”
“You’re such a romantic,” I tell her flatly.
“Hey, I’m a pragmatist,” she replies, unbothered. “No shame in that.”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like Jek. I can’t see him suddenly treating me like a booty call.”
“Lulu, if you’re waiting for him to show up on your doorstep with a dozen roses and a rented limo...”