Harsh Lessons, page 21
Sam burst out. 'Oh, that…' her lips pursed. 'Witch!' They all turned to her, and she blushed. Marcie frowned, then swore and projected Tara's feed onto the tabletop.
At first, Leeth thought they'd all seen the penis icons, too, and their virtual tattoos. But none of the other girls mentioned them, and as she read the upside-down text, her heart sank. 'What? So she's calling us “Lezzlie's Loser Club.” Just ignore her. That's what my uncle said we should do.'
'No, it's not that.' Marcie grimaced, projecting her own keyboard and typing madly. 'I don't know how she's doing it, but she's put up a vid stream of… four girls, um, having sex, and she's ’shopped our faces onto them.' She swore. 'And I can't forward it, capture it, or project it! How is she doing that?'
'Um, why do you want to forward it, or whatever?' Leeth asked.
'So we can report it, Jane!'
'Report it?'
'Yeah, report it. To the School. Maybe even to the police.'
'We should report it to the police?'
Was this what it was like to be a sheep? What would happen if she began thinking like that? She shuddered, then saw Marcie, Delta and Sam were looking at her. Again.
'Yeah,' said Sam, 'shocking idea. Why, you have some other idea how to stop them?'
Leeth glared across the room at Evil Tara and Co. Then carefully, unclenched her fists.
Delta laughed. 'You totally looked like you wanted to stomp over there and slap her face!'
Marcie reached out her hand, placing it over Leeth's wrist. 'Jane. Don't even think about it. She'd slap you with a lawsuit that'd ruin you and your parents. Hitting her isn't going to stop her.'
That depends on how hard I hit. With an effort, Leeth forced the thought aside, then met Marcie's eyes. What might a normal girl say? 'Maybe, but it'd sure feel good, don't you think?'
Marcie grinned. 'Hell, yeah!'
At that moment, Leeth's Link chimed her order's readiness, and she excused herself. But from the whispers following her as she crossed the room – “yeah, whip that tail, babe!” – she knew something more was going on.
On her way back, muttering 'Darn fruit flies' to cover her mid-air gestures, she clicked on each of her friends' pink icons.
And almost dropped her two chocolates, as penis-tipped tails unfurled from her friends’ rears, waving about behind them while they huddled together in conference.
Juggling her chocolates to take off her special AR glasses, of course the ugly "tails" all vanished.
Back at the table, Leeth tried to access the pink icons using her wristlink alone, so she could warn the others about the worse stuff Tara was doing. But the icons only appeared using Nelson's glasses: nothing she could do on her Link would bring them up. They didn't even appear in the glasses' flip-out thumbscreen. And the super secret spywear didn't have a projector, of course.
She sat, fuming, trying to work out a way to let her friends know about the doctored and humiliating "additions" virtually dubbed onto them. And onto her, no doubt.
Kind of like what Nelson had done to Emma: what had she called it? Identity-rape.
The hot chocolate drink was wonderful, but she just couldn't enjoy it.
Across the room, Tara and her evil friends were watching, trying hard not to crack up; and the amusement seemed to be spreading.
But why wasn't anyone telling any of them what Tara was doing? She looked around. A lot of people seemed to be enjoying what was going on, although some seemed really uncomfortable. When she raised her eyebrows, though – what's so funny? – each one just looked away.
Oh. They must be afraid of what Tara would do to them if they reported what was going on.
Well; what she or her hacker would do: no doubt Tara had paid some expert.
Nelson could sort it out in seconds, she knew; hungering to let him loose on them. He'd destroy Tara's hacker! But if he did, Tara would be sure to spend a lot of money finding out how her nasty little revenge had been ruined. Which might lead to an even bigger mystery. And bring exactly the sort of attention that'd score me a big fat Fail; with an extra serving of disaster sauce on top!
The return-to-class chime sounded. And huge wobbly penises sprang from each of her friends' foreheads. Leeth almost choked on her chocolate, as quickly-stifled laughter exploded around them.
I could just kill them all...
Marcie patted her on the back. 'Jane? Are you all right? Come'n, we gotta get back to class.'
Tara, smirking and superior, watched them leave.
The worst part, though, was that thanks to Nelson's glasses, Leeth saw the horrid virtual tarring and feathering of her friends; and couldn't find a way to un-click the horrid little penis icons.
I bet if I looked in a mirror, I'd see an icon for me, too, and I could click on it and see what Tara's done to mess up Jane's appearance. But she could imagine losing her temper, if she did.
What to do about Tara? Maybe Nelson could at least offer her some advice. Probably. Or was this a normal sort of thing, which they'd expect her to solve on her own? She'd ask Emma, tonight.
At least she was learning a lot.
Lessons for the rest of that day were horrible. Except when they worked with each other, none of the exercises the four girls took part in went smoothly; and Leeth could see why. It was hard enough for her to follow the instructions, with all the silly and embarrassing visual graffiti. And she couldn't just take her glasses off since she was supposed to need them to see; and she couldn't tell the others what was going on since she had to keep her glasses secret.
By the end of the day she was seriously plotting ways to kill Tara, that'd look like an accident.
Marcie noticed something was wrong, too; and seemed hurt when Jane wouldn't explain what that was. And that just made the whole thing an even taller pile of horrible.
And in the background, reveling in it all, were the smirking trio of Tara, Ava, and Beth.
Like the previous night, Marcie and Leeth walked together to the station, but this time they didn't talk much. Nor did Marcie hug her goodbye, which made Leeth feel like she'd done something awful.
And to rub salt in the wounds, she kept feeling an uncomfortable sensation like Mean Robo was lurking around. On the train ride back into the city, there was a heavyset man who made her think of Robo. He kept staring at her, but not like he was interested in her, exactly. More like he thought she was a fascinating bug or something. He could even have been the same man who'd stared at her from the platform, yesterday.
She had the weird feeling she'd seen him before, somewhere. Why did he make her think of an angry Japanese girl she'd… met? It made no sense. She didn't know any Japanese girls.
He creeped her out. He even followed her to Emma's apartment building. She'd hoped he'd be a mugger, sure that there'd be a chance to beat him up without letting anyone find out that “Jane Baker” had done it. But he didn't make any moves. All he did was follow her home.
When she got up to the apartment, she crossed to the window and looked out and down, but he wasn't around. But she'd forgotten all about it by the time Emma came home: she had so much to tell her about what Tara had done.
Emma was outraged, but couldn't see an obvious solution. She also agreed that Nelson's hands were almost certainly tied. They contacted the Department, just in case, but Mother and Father seemed to consider it simply a worthwhile if somewhat extreme test for Leeth. They reiterated she was not to resort to physical violence, nor to stand out. But something about the look in Nelson's eyes when they called him into the vidchat made Leeth suspect he'd somehow already seen the augmented reality defacement of herself and her friends. Knowing Nelson, he'd probably been recording it to enjoy again later.
Leeth hated being in his debt in any way. 'How come I can see it through your glasses?' she asked, pursing her lips. 'Which are pretty useful, actually. Thank you.'
Nelson smiled, then shrugged. 'You wouldn't understand. The specs scan network traffic, and present options to tap into whatever AR feeds are active for your immediate location. You'll see little flashing pink icons-'
'I already worked that out. But how do I tell Marcie and the others we're all being… “augmented” with mean 3D images?'
There was just a trace of smirk. 'I doubt you could. I checked out the streams: they're only available to students at the school, excepting you and your three Loser Club friends, of course.'
Father, sharing the vidchat with them and Mother, growled. 'Nelson.'
Nelson grinned openly. 'Sorry. Excepting you and your three new girlfriends. So even if you told them, and they had AR, they still wouldn't be able to see that the feeds exist. Oh, and the feeds are proximity-keyed to you.'
Leeth's mouth fell open. 'What – you mean, Marcie and Delta and Sam only get graffiti-ed if I'm near them? So I could protect them by staying away from them…. But to explain doing that, I'd need to tell them I have special AR glasses. And then they'd want to know why; and why I kept them secret… aagh!'
'Leeth, you are to keep the glasses secret,' Mother jumped in. 'The network penetration algorithms are better than military grade.'
'Well, duh,' said Nelson.
'So Tara's trying to make me split up with Marcie and the others? But… how does she know I can see her images?'
'I doubt she can,' Mother said. 'I expect the proximity feature is just to warn everyone else not to make friends with you.'
'Yeah. That Tara chick must really hate you, eh?' added Nelson unnecessarily.
'This sucks! Can't I please just kill Tara, at least? Please, Father?'
'No.' Mother answered before Father could. 'The whole purpose of this exercise is to teach you non-combat skills, including how to socialize with other girls. This is an excellent test for you. I look forward to seeing how you resolve the matter without “blowing your cover” or resorting to violence. Now if you don't mind, we have far more pressing matters than holding your hand while you deal with a mean bully.'
Mother's face vanished from the vidcall. Nelson gave a little finger wave and a phony smile, and also disappeared.
Father frowned, looking sympathetic. 'The best solution, Leeth, would be to bring the matter to the attention of someone in authority there – although that sounds technically difficult, given the protections Tara's hacker has set up around the various offensive social feeds. But if you think of a way I can help, I will try to do so.
'All right, girl?'
Leeth found herself blinking suddenly, her eyes watering. 'Thanks, Father.'
He signed off.
'Oh, Leeth, I'm so sorry,' Emma said.
Leeth gratefully accepted the offered hug. It was nice to know that some people cared. She melted into the older woman's arms.
Chapter 35
Discussing it again the next morning, Leeth had a good idea.
'If I see someone with an AR device behaving weird when he or she's looking at any of us, I could just snatch it off and demand to know what they're looking at!'
Emma nodded. 'I'd been thinking the same thing. That could work. Do many of the other students have AR glasses or viewers, or are they all using optic implants?'
‘No one else wears glasses like me.’
'Oh. Well, never mind. Good luck today.'
'Thanks, Emma, bye.' They hugged farewell.
Leeth was so deep in thought as she mulled over what to do with Marcie that she didn't notice the large man step out from his car, following her to the BART station.
She was still deep in thought as she forced her way onto the crowded platform, craning in the crowds of taller people for her friend.
'Hi! Marcie! Over here!' She jumped, waving her arms as commuters streamed off and then on the carriage. Marcie looked… cautious as she snaked her way through the thinning crowd. The maroon “L” appeared on her forehead as she got closer, and Leeth winced.
Marcie saw, and stopped an arm's length away, with arms crossed. 'Goodbye, right? You want out of the Losers Club.'
'Huh? In case you hadn't noticed, in Tara's eyes I am the Losers Club. I couldn't leave it. Even if I wanted to.'
Marcie blinked. Then the corners of her mouth quivered upward. 'You mean that?'
'Yeah, of course.' She took Marcie's arm in hers and began walking. 'But I think there's something else going on. I heard some weird whispers, about a red “L.” Any idea what that might be? And I thought I caught some strange looks from a few of the other students, so I've been trying to work out why. I mean, why those students in particular? You've been here longer than me, maybe you know….'
Heads together, they walked to school.
Once again, the day was overcast and cold. Behind them, the man followed.
By five pm, after a day watching vile appendages dangle from her friend's bodies, Leeth wanted to rip out Tara's poisonous heart and stuff it into her smirking mouth. More and more, she took her glasses off: they were making her too angry. But at least she wasn't letting her mood rub off on Marcie or the others today.
They all now agreed something was going on, though Marcie, Delta and Sam couldn't work out what. And Leeth did learn some good stuff in the drama exercises. She'd particularly enjoyed one “improv” with Tara, where they had to explore anger. Leeth had found that the quieter she spoke, the more restrained she behaved, the more worried Tara grew.
Like Tara could see that what Leeth really wanted to do to her was something quite permanent.
The strange guy was on the train again that night too, she noticed. But though he got off when she did, and followed her, he stopped at the end of the block. When Leeth paused at the entrance to the apartment block and looked back, she saw him turn and walk away.
She wished he’d do something. If he attacked her, obviously she'd have to defend herself. And if he happened to attack her when she was alone, with no witnesses, no cameras…. Well, a girl could dream, right?
But inside, waiting for the lift, her thoughts circled back to Tara the Terrible and what to do about her. Scarcely aware of others stepping in before her when the doors opened – ‘Oh, sorry,’ one murmured – she punched the button for Emma’s floor, then slumped back against the wall.
The lift dinged, doors opening. ‘Sorry,’ the woman who’d spoken earlier said, startling Leeth from her thoughts. Which gave her just enough time to slip out before the doors shut again.
It was only as the lift continued on its way up that she realized she’d gotten out two floors too soon. Stalking to the adjacent stairs, she paused as heavy breathing and a heavier tread from above announced the arrival of a man, in good clothes but which were all slightly askew. On his wrist he wore a chunky gold band with a clock built into it.
The timepiece was making a faint tick-tick-tick sound and she hesitated, wondering what it was; what he was. The sound seemed familiar, too: she was sure she’d heard it before.
Stepping down from the stairs, he stood head and shoulders taller than her, making her feel small. He stopped, swaying, eyeing her up and down.
His breath smelled strange.
‘Jane, yeah, in 7D?’
Which was true. She frowned. She didn’t know him.
‘Eliz’beth’s niece. Swee’ li’l niece.’
He stepped closer, and for a moment she thought he was going to fall, and moved to support him.
‘'Lizbeth’s hot!’
He leaned on her, looming over her, draping one hand on her shoulder to steady himself.
‘You mean she’s got a fever? Why’d she send you to tell me? Why wouldn’t she just call me herself?’
The man hunched over, seeming to find that hilarious. ‘You gi’ me a fever, Janey,’ he got out, at last.
She pushed his hand off her shoulder. He wobbled, but didn't fall down.
Was he ill? Maybe that was why his breath smelled so strange? His clothes, too, smelled weird: smoky, but not wood smoke. Something more acrid.
‘I didn’t give you a fever. I’m perfectly well.’
He laid his hand back on her shoulder, and his other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. ‘Yeah, you perfec'.’ He bent his head down, moving his lips towards hers.
She pushed his head away. ‘Stop that! I don’t want to kiss you.’
The hand on her shoulder slid down her front, over her left breast, and gripped it, while his other arm tightened, pulling her closer.
No fighting, Mother had said. But what was she supposed to do? Just let him slobber all over her? Surely even a normal girl would fight? Surely?
She trapped the fingers of his right hand and twisted, moving in against his arm. Bending it out and down, she forced him to follow it, finally locking his elbow at her waist.
First Tara, now this.
No fights.
She let go of his finger and stepped past him, fists clenched in frustration.
‘Ow! That real' hurt, li’l bitch!’
‘Touch me again and I’ll do more than hurt you.’
The stupid grin was back. ‘Tough sliv, eh? I c’n show you some better moves.’ He thrust his hips forwards, then stepped in close.
Leeth snapped.
Her palm struck the jutting jaw, twisting his head with a sharp crack. He collapsed, boneless, to the floor.
To lie very, very still.
Uh oh. She froze, hand covering her mouth, hoping he’d move. But even when she held her breath, she couldn’t hear his breathing. Shutting her eyes she listened harder.
She couldn’t hear his heartbeat, either.
Oh, no! Mother’ll kill me for this! And it was all his stupid fault, too! She was going to be in so much trouble. They’d probably cancel the whole rest of her training exercise just 'cause of this. Even though she’d warned the idiot, despite Dojo saying you should never give your enemies an advantage.
And the police would need to try to find out who killed him, and everyone’d be cross, and going all, “a normal girl wouldn’t kill anyone,” and “we told you specially, not to kill anybody!”
Her teeth ground at the unfairness. This dummy had ruined everything! And I won’t get another chance to do this training for six whole months!
