The Thousandth Floor
“Do what? Buy yourself more worthless crap?” Mariel grabbed a handful of necklaces from the dresser and let them slide through her fingers. “Does this really make you happy, Eris?”
“Yes, it does!”
Mariel blinked at her, horrified. Eris sighed and lowered her voice. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just … don’t you see? I can do things with money, real things that matter. I could help you and your family!” Misreading Mariel’s expression, Eris forged on. “You could move to a higher floor. You wouldn’t have to work at Altitude after school anymore—you could focus on school, spend more time with your mom.”
“God, Eris. You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want your damn charity.”
“It’s not—”
“I thought you’d changed,” Mariel went on, and the disappointment on her face hit Eris like a physical blow. “I thought you were different. But I was wrong. You’re just the same spoiled bitch you were back when you waltzed into Altitude every day and saw straight through me like I wasn’t even there.”
“I haven’t changed?” Eris felt her temper rising. “You’re as stubborn and arrogant as you were the first day I met you!”
“Guess what, Eris? Money won’t solve your problems for you.”
“At least it’ll get me out of this shithole!” Eris shouted.
She knew right away she’d gone too far.
“This shithole is where I grew up,” Mariel said coldly, punctuating every word.
“I’m sorry,” Eris began, but Mariel was already taking another step back, the distance between them gaping ever wider.
“Forget it, Eris. God forbid I come to the party and embarrass you, in this dress you apparently hate so much.” She turned and left the room. A moment later Eris heard the front door close behind her.
She thought of running after Mariel, but her feet were rooted in place. Eris felt as if something were shattering inside her. Maybe it was her pride breaking, she thought; her stupid, foolish, stubborn pride. Or maybe it was her heart.
She stepped closer to the mirror, taking a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. There was no denying that she looked fantastic in her new vermilion dress. Fortunately she owned the perfect accessory for it.
Eris tied the scarf Mr. Cole had given her in a tight loop around her neck, Parisian-style, and set out for Avery’s alone.
WATT
“LIGHT OFF,” WATT moaned, rolling over.
Everything hurt. His throat felt dry, his tongue fuzzy, and his head was pounding worse than the day he’d had Nadia installed. He wasn’t sure why the damned light wouldn’t turn off, but he kept his eyes shut tight in a valiant attempt to block it out. He wanted to curse, except that it seemed like too much effort.
“Watzahn,” Nadia spoke into his eartennas.
“Ow! Too loud!” He winced, hands over ears. He rolled himself over and realized, dimly, that he was still in his clothes from last night. What had happened?
“Drink,” Nadia commanded. There was a pitcher of water on the tiny table next to his bed, and a bottle of painkillers. Watt managed to sit up and grabbed the pitcher with both hands.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head, after drinking almost half of it. “What time is it?”
“Eight p.m. on Saturday.”
“What the hell!” Watt started to stand, but sank back down again, his legs unsteady. “My parents—”
“Think you’re sick. I snuck into the local medical mainframe and hacked a check-in bot, made it report that you have the flu. I even got a messenger bot to clear away the whiskey before they woke up, to hide the evidence,” Nadia told him, almost proud. “Your dad carried you to bed this morning. And your mom was taking care of you earlier, before she had to leave for work. I made the med-bot tell her to bring you all this,” she added, referencing the water and the painkiller.
“Thanks,” he murmured. Nadia’s crisis mode was kind of impressive.
“I did warn you about the potential side effects of illegal substances.”
“What?” He took another sip of the water and rubbed at his eyes, exhausted. “God. I’ve never been so hungover before.”
“You aren’t hungover. You were drugged,” Nadia insisted. “By Leda. How much do you remember?”
Leda. He’d forgotten she came over. Watt struggled to put the events of the previous night in order, but it all felt like a blur. He remembered being with Derrick, and then Leda showing up on his doorstep … her questions about Atlas … and their kiss, which had tasted like whiskey …
He didn’t remember anything after that.
“What happened?” he whispered, hoarse.
“I’ll play you the feedback,” Nadia replied. Even when Watt was too intoxicated for Nadia to get through to him—too far gone to record his own memories—Nadia was there to log all of it. It was both a blessing and a curse.
She played it directly onto his contacts, like an immersion vid. Watt relived last night from his own drunken perspective as Leda barged in, talked to him about Avery, offered him the drugs. He watched himself refuse—that part he remembered—and then she shrugged and started to pour them both whiskeys instead.