The Takedown(28)

I hurried off into the crowd. And maybe this will sound na?ve, considering the video had been playing on a football field–sized screen, but right then, I finally got how huge it was. Never mind my college apps or my ruined reputation at school. With this many views, the video would never be pushed down in my profile. My children would see this. Their children would see it (even considering my whole not-till-I’m-thirty-eight agenda). If I didn’t take down the video, it would forever be the first thing anyone knew about me. If I didn’t take down the video, I wouldn’t be able to escape it for the rest of my life.

I was finding it hard to breathe. A guy wearing tight pants and white sunglasses nudged me and said, “Yo, girl, you famous. Can I get your autograph?”

“Can I get your digits?” His friend laughed.

I pushed past them. To calm myself down, I thought about what President Malin would do. She’d say, “I will not mince words. This is a nearly insurmountable problem. But we will roll up our sleeves and try to fix it, because we have everything to lose.” Just like she did in her October web address about the challenges of reversing our escalating environmental collapse.

Me?

I ran.





The Elite Audra had pinged me honked when I went outside. I was wondering if having a fully automated car identify me officially made me the most recognizable girl in the world, when the back window rolled down and a petite platinum blondie waved at me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, running up to the car.

“I told you.” Audra grinned. “I sent you an Elite. I just didn’t mention I was in it.” She let out her best evil-villain laugh. “Come on, silly; get in.”

Brooklyn to the city and back? This would be at least a two-hundred-dollar ride. I tried not to think about what a waste of coin that was. After all, I was in an Elite for only the second time in my life and the last time I’d equaled too upset to notice how prime the experience was. Adjustable tint on the windows, audio controls for temp, music, and speed. A bus passed us and splashed our front windshield. The Elite’s wipers immediately flicked on. It even still had that new-car smell. Unthinkable in a normal cab.

As Audra slid next to me on the unmarred leather seat and tucked her arm beneath mine, I txted my mom.

moi On duty for dinner at Audra’s.

mama Heard!

“What coordinates did you give it?” I asked as we turned out into traffic. “Brooklyn’s that way.”

“Kyle, are you seriously trying to backseat-drive a computer? Or are you just that anxious to see the Parents? Chill, please. I’m taking you somewhere special first. Someplace I’ve never taken anyone else.”

“How come I’m so lucky?”

“Must be that charmed existence.”

After our light banter, we fell into the inexplicable silence that had been creeping between us for months now whenever the other girls weren’t present. Still our arms stayed entwined. Based on our recent history, maybe it was better that we didn’t talk.

After a few minutes of quiet, unable to take it anymore, Audra streamed our favorite nightcore song and cranked it through the Elite’s speakers. One verse in, we were singing along, trying to keep up with the lyrics. When the Elite cut through the music to tell us we’d reached our destination, we were both breathless with laughter and nightcore and using each other’s fists as microphones. We were also parked outside the Met.

“You’re taking me to look at art?”

She tweaked my nose. “Better.”

We hurried up the steps to the museum. Dinner started in fifty minutes. Even if we encountered only green lights and all the other cars on Fifth Avenue miraculously disappeared by the time we came back outside, we were going to be late. The Parents hated lateness.

Once inside the Met, we walked straight to the members’ line. Audra’s Doc blinked green. Welcome, Ms. Rhodes flashed on the turnstile screen. She selected a with guest option. And then we were through.

“Are the Parents members?”

“The Parents wouldn’t know good art if it OD’d in front of them. I’m a member because the Met is home to my favorite place in the entire wide world.”

Audra glanced at her Doc and quickened her pace. I thought for sure we were headed to the sold-out special exhibit by the famous artist who tattooed on lemons, but instead of going up to the second floor, we stayed on the first and made our way through the European Sculpture and Decorative Arts wing. I kept expecting Audra to stop in front of a particular painting or sculpture, but instead she wound through the museum until we were in a deserted section that held ancient African urns and an easy-to-miss door in the farthest corner of the room.

Although there was an exit sign above the door, it for sure seemed like one of those doors that emitted high-pitched alarms if opened.

“Almost there.”

I could hear the giddy in her voice.

“Audra…” I warned as she pushed through the door and stepped into the space beyond.

I glanced around, expecting a guard to come and yell at us, then realized that the only other person who would think that happened anymore was my mom. Most museums now implemented static barriers around the artwork. Since this room stayed emptily ancient, I figured we were entering allowed space. Besides, if whatever was on the other side of this door led to my girl’s favorite place in the world, minor electrocution would be worth it.