Psion Delta (6 page)

“Jeffie!
I’m so glad you’re back! How are you?”

Jeffie’s
response was not as cordial as it could have been, and Strawberry left the room
taken aback. Thus began a very long day of stumbling through her exercises,
forcing down breakfast despite having no appetite, an inability to focus on her
instructions, and a performance in the sims that could only be described as
horrendous. By dinner, she felt like she’d wasted an entire day, and all she
cared about was talking to her parents. After scarfing down a light salad, she
went to the call room and punched in her home number.

After
several rings, she got her parents’ voicemail. She hung up and tried her mom’s
com. This time she got an answer. Background noise filled her ears until her
mother’s voice cut through the din. “Hello? Jeffie? Jeffie, can you hear me?”

“Mom,
where are you?”

“Oh,
honey, I’m back on set in Shanghai. Shooting has been ridiculous, and we’re
going to go over budget. It’s not my fault that it’s taken way more time than
we thought. It’s the actors, you know. I swear they get dumber every
generation. Last night, I told one of the actors that he needed to do more than
look good for the camera. Guess what he said?”

“What?”

“He
said, ‘That’s your job.’ Can you believe it?”

“Wow.
Crazy,” Jeffie said, “I was wondering if you have a minute to—”

“I
wish I did. Things are so out of control here. We’re trying to wrap up shooting
by the end of the week. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,
I’m—”

“Oh
good,” her mother said. “You should give me a call again when I’m back home. Or
maybe try your father.”

There
was a loud crash in the background. “What was that?” Jeffie asked.

“Dang
it all!” her mother shouted. “I told them to be careful with that thing!”

“Mom,
real quick, I need to ask—”

“I’m
sorry, I’ve got to go. Love ya! Bye!”

The
line went dead before Jeffie had a chance to tell her mother goodbye. She
frowned as she hung up the phone. Then she picked it up again and dialed for
her dad. He answered before the first ring had finished.

“Hey,
champ!” her father’s voice, unless he was coaching, normally had an infectious,
chipper quality. Not today. “What’s up?”

“Hey,
Dad,” Jeffie said. “I was hoping to talk for a little while.”

“Uh
. . . yeah, sure,” he said. “Is something wrong? Why didn’t you call, Mom?”

“No,
not—I mean, everything’s fine. Mom’s busy filming in—”

“Shanghai,
I know. Oh, hey, guess what?”

“What?”
Jeffie asked.

“Tobias
is getting votes for MVP this year. He’s already a lock-in for the All-Star
game.”

“Wow,
are you serious?”

“Of
course. Haven’t you been following his team?”

“As
best as I can,” Jeffie said. “It’s hard to catch him when he’s playing in
Australia.”

“I’ve
been out here for his last few games. I’m not kidding, your brother’s talent
has exploded under his new coaches. Plus he’s hired trainers to work out with
him. It’s all paying off. He’s a winner at heart, like all the Tvedts.”

Jeffie
rolled her eyes. She could practically see the light from her father’s face
shining through the handset of the phone.
A winner who can’t hold down a
steady relationship and spends all his money on new shoes and bimbo
girlfriends, according to Mom.
Tobias, her oldest brother, had bought fully
into their father’s philosophy that winning was the most important thing in
life. As a professional basketball player in Australia, he made a good
living—far better than her brothers who skied professionally— and Jeffie’s dad
loved to tag along with him.

“So,
anyway, I called to talk to you about—”

“I
told you he had a triple double last month, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,
you did. But I wanted to ask you—”

“—for
some signed pictures, right? To give to your friends? I’m sure I can get him to
sign those tonight and send them off.”

“No,
Dad, I was joking when I asked you about that. This is kind of important!”
Jeffie’s face grew hot and an edge crept into her voice. Being as tired as she
was, her patience couldn’t bear any more strain.

“Sorry,
champ, only giving you a hard time. It feels like forever since I last saw you.
How long has it been? A year?”

Fifteen
months
, Jeffie answered silently. “Dad, I’m having—” Jeffie shook
her head.
I can’t believe I’m going to talk about this with him.
“I’m
having boy troubles. Can you give me a minute of time without interrupting me?”

“Are
you sure I’m the person you want to talk to about this? Don’t you think you’re
a little young to be worrying about boys? You’re—you’re fifteen. Fifteen,
right? Relax, have fun, date around.”

“That’s
your advice? That’s it?”

“Yeah,
well, what else should I say? You’ll figure it out as you go along.” Now she
heard something in his voice hinting that he wanted to hang up. He never liked
dealing with girls’ issues. Once, when Jeffie’s mom had been away shooting a
film, Jeffie had started her first menstrual cycle. Her dad had freaked out and
called his own mother for help. He’d never bought her a doll, a make-up kit, or
a dress. At age four: baseball bat. Age five: basketball shoes. Age twelve:
tickets to the NWG World Series. And every question she’d asked about girly
stuff, whether specific or general, had been rerouted to her mother. Age
thirteen: she stopped asking him anything. “I’d better get going. I told Tobias
I’d watch his practice and give him some pointers afterward.”

“You
said he’s got coaches and trainers for that.”

“Yeah,
true, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a thing or two to show him. Never too
old to learn . . . or teach!”

Jeffie
slammed down the phone and headed to her dorm, determined to go to bed where no
one could bother her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t tired anymore. After laying
with her eyes closed for five minutes and reliving the conversations she’d had
with her parents, she reached to the small shelf behind her pillow and grabbed
the holo-picture album her father had sent her on her last birthday.

Fifteen
months
, she thought as she opened the leather-bound cover to the
book
. I can’t believe I haven’t seen them in fifteen months
.

Inside
the album was a blank, gray screen. Jeffie flipped a switch and the device came
alive, projecting a life-like, though much smaller image of herself holding a
trophy. Her blonde hair was in braided pigtails and she wore a big grin that
showed off five missing front teeth. Next to her stood her father/coach, also
smiling. The next hologram was also of herself, this time frozen mid-stride as
she ran down a football pitch with her finger in the air, her cheeks flushed,
and a look of exuberance on her face. She remembered that shot, having kicked
the game-winning goal for her team in the all-girls league.

The
next picture was of the Tvedt family in a basketball gymnasium. Two of her
brothers stood in the middle, each wearing a medal around his neck.
Six-year-old Jeffie was off to the farthest right, looking up at her brothers.
Her father beamed and her mother smiled politely. Her other two older brothers
seemed bored.

Jeffie
paused to gaze at several more images of herself, her father, and her brothers
in various sports matches until she found a picture she’d taken of her mother
on a film set looking into a film camera. The next twenty holograms were of
more sporting events, only two of them had the whole family, and both of the
family pictures displayed someone receiving a trophy or medal. Jeffie skipped
through them faster. Sports, sports, sports. Basketball, football, swimming.
She saw an occasional picture of herself taken by a friend, or an impromptu
shot of a family member doing something stupid, but the vast majority of
holograms celebrated a win or a great play.

She
remembered a match when she was eleven and her team had finished second in an
all-territorial football tournament. The second-place finish had been a very
big deal to her, but she could find no hologram of her second-place team,
despite searching through the entire memory database for it. The most recent
photographs were of her gold medal ceremony at the Junior Olympics with her
father and her team. It reminded her of how often her mother had missed games
and other events for film shoots. Jeffie let that thought go and searched for a
picture of herself in grade seven when she’d played the part of the evil queen
in a performance
of
Snow White
. Her father had protested that the
play would interfere too much with practices, but Jeffie and her mom won the
battle. She found no record of that moment, either.

Disgusted,
she tossed the album back onto the shelf where it landed with a thud, then
buried her face back into her pillow. About a minute later, someone knocked on
her door. She had a five-second debate in her head over whether or not she
should open it. The second knock pushed the vote in favor of opening.

The
moment Jeffie answered the door, Natalia pushed her way in without invitation.
“Brickert says you need someone to talk to. Is this true?”

“Uh.
. . . ”

“I’ll
take that as a yes. Especially since you look like you got hit in the face by a
Thirteen.”

“Really?
Wow, thanks. So sweet.”

Kawai
stepped into the room behind Natalia smiling in a friendly, knowing way that
made Jeffie feel a little less overwhelmed.

“Kawai
and I think we need to have a girl chat. Just the three of us. Right here in
this room. Tomorrow night sound good? Pizza. Fries. Chocolate. Caffeine.”

“Or
salad,” Kawai added, “with some fruit, yogurt, and water if you’re in the mood
for something that won’t make you feel worse.”

“Whatever.”
Natalia waved her hand glibly. Her attention was fully on Jeffie. “You were a
total zombie today! Have a girls’ night with us tomorrow. It’ll give you
twenty-four hours before your date with Kobe. You can talk, unload, vent . . .
whatever you need to do. I can invite Strawberry, too, if you want. Anyone
else?”

“Uh.
. . . ” Jeffie was still trying to take everything in that Natalia had said
because she’d spoken so fast. “I don’t think—I mean—that might be good. The
four of us.”

“You
sure you’re okay?” Kawai asked.

“Yeah,
I’m great,” Jeffie said.

Kawai
raised an eyebrow.

“I
mean, yes, I have a million things on my brain, but I’m good. Serious. Me.
Good.”

Kawai
laughed. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Can’t
wait!” Natalia clapped like a giddy golf fan as she left the room.

Jeffie
crawled back into bed, knowing she wasn’t going to sleep well for the second
night in a row. She had nightmares about being stuck inside a maze of mirrors
and doors, never quite sure of where she was or where she was going. Finally
she got so frustrated that she screamed and shattered all the glass. The glass
flew everywhere, cutting her arms, legs, and face. The wounds were worse than
those Sammy had gotten from that awful encounter with the Thirteen.

Strawberry
shook her forcefully awake at about 0315. “What’s wrong, Jeffie? Wake up!”

Jeffie
woke up quaking. Her face was wet—not from sweat, but tears. “I’m—I’m—” She
peered around the dark room and realized what happened. “Oh gosh. It was a
nightmare. I’m sorry, Berry. Did I wake you up?”

“Me
and everyone else in headquarters. You sure you’re fine?”

Still
shaking and not knowing why, Jeffie pulled Strawberry’s arm until the younger,
smaller girl was close enough to hug. Then Jeffie wrapped her arms around her
friend and squeezed her until the shaking stopped.

“Thank
you,” she whispered to Strawberry.

“You’re
welcome.” Strawberry sounded exhausted and befuddled as she got back to her
feet and climbed back into her own bed. Within seconds, her soft snores floated
to Jeffie’s ears. Jeffie listened to her roommate with jealousy. She knew she
wouldn’t be able to sleep after the nightmare.

Thursday
brought with it the same feeling of drudgery as she slogged through her
schedule. She tried to give Kobe affectionate attention while they chatted
during meals and exercise, she pretended to care in her instructions, and she
did her best in sims, but all she really wanted to do was get through the day
so she could spend the evening with her girlfriends. She fervently hoped that
their advice would be of some benefit.

As
planned, Natalia, Kawai, and Strawberry brought food to the bedroom and chatted
while they ate. Natalia, naturally, talked the most. She had recently dyed her
hair a pink so bright it looked like a wig, and sometimes Jeffie caught herself
staring at it while her brain wandered. Kawai, on the other hand, had adopted a
less dramatic appearance. About a week ago, she’d stopped wearing feathers in
her hair as she’d done for the last year, and the number of bracelets she wore
dropped from about a dozen to two or three of her favorites. Jeffie had asked
about the sudden change, and Kawai’s semi-awkward response had been that she
wanted to fit in better so guys would notice her.