How to Lead a Life of Crime by Kirsten Miller
“Who can give me a legal definition of fraud?” she asks.
I can’t let anyone see how shaken I am, so I force myself to raise my hand.
• • •
Gwendolyn walks with me to the Art of Persuasion. I can tell by the way she greets me that Ivan hasn’t told her what happened in Aubrey’s room. It’s beginning to dawn on me how tricky this whole situation has gotten. If Ivan rats me out, I could be totally screwed. Without Gwendolyn’s help I might end up stuck in this hellhole for years. So I’ve got to stop acting recklessly. And I’ve got to go back to working out every day. The only thing that’s going to keep Ivan’s mouth shut is the belief that I’m capable of killing him.
I feel eyes on the back of my head as soon as we take our seats. I shouldn’t look, but I do. Lucas is two rows behind me. He holds my stare for a beat too long. Aubrey must have told him about my good deed of the day. Gwendolyn turns to see what’s grabbed my attention, and she gives Lucas a smile and a wave. He cracks open his computer and ignores her.
“Poor kid,” Gwendolyn murmurs.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Didn’t you see? Lucas is in the bottom five.”
I’m not worried about Lucas. He’ll never jump.
• • •
The word suicide greets me when I enter Human Psychology. Our instructor, Mr. Davis, has just finished writing it on the blackboard at the front of the room. It’s fifth period, and the subject hasn’t been broached since breakfast. Here at the Mandel Academy, most people seem to move on with their lives with remarkable speed. But the seven other students in my class all flinch when they walk through the door. It’s like they’ve been greeted with a slap in the face. I noticed a few weeks back that the course was filled with bottom-ranking Androids. My fellow Wolves don’t need to learn these lessons.
I’ve been number one in Human Psychology since the first day of the semester. It’s easy to play along. Every time I’m asked a question in class, I imagine that human beings are just arrogant monkeys. We may think we’re superior because some of us love our children or believe in God. But every single belief we hold, food we crave, or mate we choose can be traced right back to the fight for survival. According to Mr. Davis, our lives have only one purpose: to pass our genes to the next generation and ensure the survival of our species.
Sometimes it’s fun to connect all the dots. Why do gentlemen prefer blondes? Well, before Clairol came along, blond hair was a sign of youth. And youth means fertility. And fertility means lots of offspring. And the more offspring, the better our species’ chance of survival. Ding, ding, ding! We’re all just monkeys!
But I’m not in the mood for games today. Mr. Davis has chosen the one subject I refuse to find funny.
“Why do some human beings commit suicide?” he asks. “Who can tell me?”
I know exactly what answer he wants to hear, but for once I’m not going to give it to him. There’s a longer-than-usual pause. We’ve taken a detour from the syllabus, and the Androids are unprepared.
“Depression?” someone ventures.
“Close,” the instructor says. “Flick?”
“The need for escape.”
Mr. Davis looks like a zookeeper who’s just been mauled by his favorite chimp. “No,” he snaps. “The sole cause of suicide is mental illness. It may come in a variety of forms—depression, substance abuse, or schizophrenia, to name just a few—but there’s always an illness behind the act. Not all flaws are evident from birth. Some remain hidden for years. Fortunately, evolution provided sickly brains with a self-destruct mechanism. Suicide is just another way that nature eliminates the weak from the gene pool.”
“Tell that to a samurai,” I growl. I promised myself I wouldn’t be reckless—but I won’t sit here and hold my tongue. I’m not going to let him convince these kids that Felix was defective.
“Excuse me?”
“In medieval Japan, the samurai saw suicide as a way to die with honor. A warrior would commit seppuku rather than fall into enemy hands.”
Mr. Davis nods as if I’ve made an excellent point. “If there was no hope of winning, then the enemy was superior. The act of seppuku may appear honorable, but the end result was the same. The weak died and the strong prevailed.”
I’m losing my touch. I should have seen that one coming. Even the samurai were chimps.
• • •
I nearly killed one of the lesser Wolves in Hand-to-Hand Combat. He shouldn’t have congratulated me on taking second place the day we started training with knives. It took the rest of the class to pull the two of us apart. I didn’t plan it in advance, but as it turns out, nearly slitting a fellow Wolf’s throat was a brilliant move. Gwendolyn seems convinced that I’m still angry about the rankings. I haven’t been thinking about them at all.
We’re in the Wolves’ Den, which is my new name for the tower lounge. Most of the pack went downstairs to dinner a few minutes ago. I have no interest in eating. Gwendolyn is here too. But I’m not in the mood for chitchat, so I lie down and pretend to nap.
“Flick,” Gwendolyn says. “I know you’re not asleep. And I know you think that you should be Dux.”
I open my eyes. She’s kneeling by my side. “And you’re telling me I’m wrong?” I ask. “I’m first in all of my classes. You’re second in two of yours. I thought there was a chance that some dark horse might beat me. But either way, the title should have changed hands.”
“Academics are only part of the equation, Flick. I tried to warn you. Mr. Mandel doesn’t believe that you’re ready to be Dux. He can’t counsel you in person right now, but he wants you to think about the reward you were promised. If you’re going to graduate, you’ll have to focus on that. Nothing else should matter while you’re here.”
My big reward. The proof of my father’s crime. It’s funny—I forgot all about it today. I’ve been running around trying to rescue Aubrey, who won’t even scream to help herself. Trying to defend a kid who’s already dead. Holding on to the memory of a girl I’ll never see again. Wondering how a person could love someone and still choose to leave them behind.
“Why you?” I ask Gwendolyn. “Why does Mandel think you deserve to be Dux?”
“Mr. Mandel knows that this school is all I have. Everything I care about is here.”
“Seriously? You don’t care about anyone out there? What about your mother? Don’t you miss her?”
Gwendolyn snorts. “When I was little, my mother spent more time at the bar down the street than she ever spent at home. She didn’t want to be with me, so what’s the point in missing her?”
She’s right. There’s no point at all.
I reach down and grab Gwendolyn by the waist. I lift her, and she’s as light as a doll. I lay her down on the divan and kiss her. I’m preparing to do much more than that when I hear someone else enter the room. I’m moving too fast to come to a sudden stop. When I do, I find Ivan leering at us.
“You’ve been watching?” Gwendolyn snarls, and Ivan knows he’s just stepped in it.
It’s an excellent opportunity to make a point. “Why don’t you head down to your room, Gwendolyn. I’ll meet up with you in a minute. I just need to have a quick chat with my old buddy Ivan.”
“Don’t get blood on the furniture,” she says, sounding perfectly serious. “If you have to kill him, do it out on the landing.”
When Ivan and I are alone, I spread myself across the divan.
“So do you see how things work around here?” I ask. “Do you see why you’ll want to stay on my good side?”
“Yes,” he says. And he does. I can tell.
“Then forget this morning ever happened. And get the hell out of this lounge. You’re not welcome back until I personally give you permission.”
“But I’m supposed to meet Caleb . . .”
“Screw Caleb,” I tell him. “This conversation is over.”
Ivan leaves, but I’m not in any rush to get back to Gwendolyn. I stay on the diva
After I found out about Felix, I spent the day wishing Joi was here. If she had been, I know I would have told her what happened to me and my family. The whole story—even the parts I try never to think about. And I might have felt a little bit better. But I don’t need to feel better. I need to grow the hell up.
Joi made me weak when I was around her. I’m not a Lost Boy, and I’m too old for a Wendy. But I want to remember her once before I let go. All I get is a faint whiff of jasmine before my dream’s interrupted. And then the last person I’ll love is gone for good.
• • •
“It’s not the way the system works!” Caleb’s voice grows louder as he scales the stairs to the tower. I can’t see him from where I’m lying. But more importantly, he can’t see me.
“You already lost your Beauty Pageant bet. What do you care who gets to go next?” Austin asks in his BBQ-and-Budweiser drawl.
“I just don’t understand why she’d stoop to spare a Ghost!”
“Aw, come on. You know why. She’s still trying to get into Flick’s pants, and he’s got a weird soft spot for that Aubrey girl.”
“More proof he’s a loser,” Caleb grumbles. “This whole situation is completely revolting. Someone should speak to Mr. Mandel.”
“Give it a week or so. You don’t know what Gwendolyn has in mind,” Austin argues. “Besides, if Flick ain’t had a piece yet, he must not like girls at all. Way I figure, things’ll probably be back to normal real soon.”
They’re in the lounge. They’ll see me any second now, so I better act fast.
“You’re right, Austin,” I declare as I stand up and unbuckle my belt. “I don’t like girls. I only have eyes for you. What are you now? Number 6? So drop your pants, bubba. You’ve been outranked. And considering the conversation I just overheard, you might not want to turn down number 2.”
It’s probably my imagination, but I think I detect a whimper.
“Flick, I, I . . .” For a future politician, Austin isn’t too good at thinking on his feet.
“Were you really just questioning Gwendolyn’s decisions?” I ask Caleb. “And threatening to take your complaints to Mandel? Do you think you know better than Gwendolyn does?”
“No, of course not!” Caleb insists. “It’s just . . .”
“Just what? As far as I can tell, the system you’re so fond of works like this: you do what the Dux tells you to do, and you keep your mouth shut. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Caleb admits.
“Then don’t forget it again.” I head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Austin asks nervously.
“Gotta answer a booty call,” I tell him. “Let’s hope Gwendolyn doesn’t get all chatty when we’re finished.”
I don’t think I’ll rat them out right away. I have no idea what the consequences might be if Gwendolyn knew what I just heard. But Austin and Caleb do, and I really enjoy seeing them sweat.
I head downstairs to the ninth-floor balcony and start searching for an excuse to go somewhere other than Gwendolyn’s room. I lean over the railing. At the bottom of the atrium, the last traces of Felix have finally been scrubbed away. Lucas is standing one floor below me, surveying the very same scene. I should give him the good news about Aubrey, so I hop on the elevator and beg it to be as quiet as possible.
“Bad day for both of us,” Lucas remarks once I’m standing beside him.
“And a worse one for Felix.”
“I’m not so sure about that. At least he’s free.” Lucas looks over at me. “You’ll get used to it. A couple of Ghosts kill themselves every semester.”
“Every semester? Why so many?”
“I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out.”
“I heard you’re in the bottom five.” Might as well get the subject out of the way. “I’m sorry. If you need any help on the outside . . .”
“I won’t. And you don’t need to pity me, Flick. I’d rather be number fifty-two than number two,” he says. “Gwendolyn’s going to own you now.”
I lower my voice to a whisper. “She’s not as bad as you think. I just heard that Gwendolyn talked Mandel into sparing Aubrey.”
Lucas’s eyes narrow. “Sparing her?”
“From being expelled.”
“Well, I know Ivan will be thrilled to hear that Aubrey’s staying.”
“I’ll be watching out for her while she’s here,” I tell him.
“Oh yeah? And what if the Wolves decide to go after you? You never considered that, did you? I bet you think you’re safe now that you’re the queen’s favorite boy.” Lucas pauses for a dramatic sigh. “Oh well, I suppose while you’re watching Aubrey’s back, I’ll just have to watch yours.”
I feel a flash of annoyance. “What makes you think I need your help? You’re number fifty-two. Maybe you should focus on saving your own ass, Lucas. Why waste your time on me?”
“Good question. Well, we can’t call it altruism, can we? I remember learning in Human Psychology that there’s no such thing. So let’s just say that I’m acting in my own self-interest. I’m trying to save my species.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I demand, just as one of the elevators stops on our floor.
“Looks like you’ve got a visitor,” Lucas says. “Give her my love.” I can see Gwendolyn’s pale hair through the gates. She’s come to collect me. By the time I turn to say goodbye, Lucas is already back in his room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
THE WATCHER BY NIGHT
This must have been how the world appeared to the gods on Olympus. The greatest city on earth lies thirty-two stories below, and it’s nothing more than a miniature model. Little toy cars race around the grid. Battery-powered boats putter up the Hudson River. Maybe there are people down there as well, but they’re so tiny that they’re completely invisible.
I’m alone on a terrace that circles a palatial Tribeca penthouse. I don’t expect any company out here. The other guests will stay inside where the air is warm and the cocktails are cold. Despite the frigid weather, I’m more comfortable observing the others from a distance. The apartment’s walls are glass, and the owners haven’t bothered to hang curtains or shades. You don’t need to worry about privacy when you live this high up in the clouds.
The graduates of the Mandel Academy convene once a month, and the Dux has a standing invitation to join them. Attendance seems a bit sparse tonight. My guess is the guests are all Mandel’s supporters. I know for a fact that the head of the opposition is absent. When Gwendolyn asked me to escort her, she assured me that my father would not be attending the party. Turns out she’s on a first-name basis with everyone here. I recognize some of the guests, but every one of them knows me. Apparently they’ve been following my rise. A few seem to have been doing much more than that. Earlier in the evening, the head of some mutual fund pulled me aside and told me he’s rooting for me. And he made it pretty clear that he knows exactly what it will mean if I win.
I chatted with various alumni for over an hour, and I could feel my hair standing on end the whole time. Then I realized why they gave me the creeps. They look, speak, and chew their hors d’oeuvres just like humans. But they’re nothing like the rest of us. Not anymore. They live in a world where their toilets magically clean themselves. Wrinkle-free clothes appear in their closets. Everyone jumps at the chance to do them all favors. Nothing but flattery and praise ever reaches their ears. There aren’t any problems that their checkbooks can’t solve. And it all seems perfectly normal because everyone they know belongs to the same elite club.
What would it be like to exist in a world without suffering? To have no needs, only desires? To be surrounded by so much beauty that you forget how ugly life is for everyone e
Mandel has taught me the secret of the alumni’s success. You have to be willing to pay any price. The gates to this paradise won’t open unless you offer a sacrifice to the gods who dwell here. And they only want the things you cherish the most. Your freedom, your honor, or your soul. Whatever those people inside the penthouse gave up, they don’t seem to miss it anymore. But I’m just through the gates, and I can’t help but look back. Joi’s out there somewhere. And part of me is still with her.
A burst of canned laugher draws my eyes back toward the party. Gwendolyn is entertaining three captains of industry who’ve been celebrating a victory. Earlier, I overheard one of them discussing “the company’s” plans to move forward with the launch of a product called Exceletrex now that a certain Illinois congressman has decided to call off the dogs. The “little people,” it appears, no longer have a voice. Representative Sheehan must have had something scandalous stored on his cell phone. And I may have been the one who told the Mandel alumni where to look. I suppose they’d have found it anyway.
I see Gwendolyn scanning the room for me. The Mandel Academy’s golden duo should never be far apart. The dorms reek of hormones and secret sex, but we’re the school’s only true couple. The Prince and Princess of Vice. In September, Gwendolyn may be leaving the academy and heading to Harvard. She wants her prince to join her if Mandel lets me graduate. I haven’t made any promises. Gwendolyn is brilliant and beautiful, but I don’t love her—and I’m not going to try. I’m with her because Mandel forced me to surrender. All my good things are gone. Vengeance is the only thing keeping me alive.