“It might as well be!”

“I promise it will be worth it,” he assured her. “Just trust me.”

Trust Watt? That felt hard to do, given all the broken promises that lay between them. Leda turned away, to keep from looking into his eyes.

Two girls stood at a small bitbanc kiosk on their right: one of those touch screen stations where people might check their balance or make transfers, if they didn’t have contact lenses. It took Leda a moment to realize that the girls weren’t using the kiosk at all. They were preening and applying lip gloss, watching their reflections on the sliver of curved security mirror above the interface. One of them met Leda’s eyes in the mirror and politely stepped aside, as if to make space.

“Last mirror before José’s,” she explained and then smiled.

“Um, thanks,” Leda mumbled. What was José’s?

“We’ll see you in there,” Watt replied. Leda couldn’t help noticing the warm way both girls were staring at him. For some stupid reason it irritated her.

She followed Watt onto the stoop of an old brownstone. Heavy, dark curtains hung in the windows, making the face of the building look lifeless or even sinister, as if the windows were empty blank eyes. The door’s paint was peeling, and there was a notice tacked to it that read FORECLOSURE. NO ENTRY.

“Watt . . .” Leda began, but the protest died on her lips as he pushed the front door. It gave way easily.

Leda squeezed behind him, blinking at the faded wallpaper. Standing in the middle of the cramped entryway, before a wooden staircase, was a tall white guy who looked about their age. Leda heard the unmistakable sounds of laughter and music drifting down from the second floor. She shot Watt a confused glance.

“Do I know you?” the bouncer demanded.

Watt didn’t miss a beat. “Hey, Ryan. We’re friends of José’s. Is he here yet?”

“He’s coming later,” Ryan replied with a shade less hostility, though he still stood determinedly between Watt and Leda and whatever was at the top of that staircase. “It’s forty nanos each.”

“Fine. Confirm transfer,” Watt muttered. He locked gazes with the bouncer and nodded, to move forty nanodollars from his bitbanc into Ryan’s. Leda started to do the same, but Watt nodded again to cover her payment, and Ryan stepped aside to let them pass.

“What are we doing here?” Leda hissed as they made their way up the stairs.

“I’m hoping that we’ll get some answers about Mariel—about what she knew and who she told,” Watt explained. “She used to come here a lot.”

“Of course she did,” Leda said darkly. She stumbled over a protruding nail and cursed under her breath. “Who wouldn’t want to pay for the privilege of traipsing around an old tear-down?”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Watt said softly, reaching out to steady her.

Leda brushed his hand aside. She felt suddenly angry with him, for knowing her so intimately. “Who is José?”

“José has been doing this for a while now: setting up parties in abandoned homes, then charging people for entry. He also happens to be Mariel’s cousin,” Watt replied as they reached the top of the stairs, and Leda fell silent.

The second-floor living room had been utterly transformed. Temporary drink stations were set up on either side of the room. Music spilled out of small egg-shaped speakers. Dim lighting emanated from glo-bulbs, the disposable orbs of light that were powered by self-contained nanowires, though they only lasted several hours. Because the electricity must have been cut off with the foreclosure, Leda realized. Clever.

But most striking of all were the dozens of young people packed into the space.

They were all good-looking in a fierce, edgy way, with angular inktats and 3-D skin appliqués. Leda saw lopsided hemlines, micro-miniskirts paired with kneesocks, vinyl dresses that flashed in bright, eclectic colors. One girl was wearing a dress that consisted of nothing but plastic squares linked together by tiny metal rings. Several of them looked up, murmuring at the arrival of Leda and Watt.

Leda felt strangled by a sudden, sticky fear. “I can’t do this. I thought that I could but I can’t; I barely made it through Cord’s the other day. I’m not ready for this.” She winced, shrinking in on herself, but Watt reached to grab her above both elbows.

“What happened to the Leda Cole I used to know?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. “That girl wasn’t afraid of anything.”

That girl was afraid of everything, Leda thought. She was just better at hiding her fear.

“I’m right here with you. I won’t let anything bad happen, I promise,” Watt added.

Leda knew that was an impossible promise. But she thought suddenly of Dubai—of how she’d been lying helpless by the water and Watt had come to save her, riding a stolen hoverboard at breakneck speed. She remembered how reassuringly safe she had felt the moment she realized he was with her.

“Okay. We can stay,” she said reluctantly and cast another glance around the room.

Leda quickly lifted her flowy black shirt and tied it into a knot on one side, making it into a midriff top. She ran her fingers through her short, dense hair to loosen its curls. Then she reached into her pocket for her shiny red paintstick and swiped it over her lips.

“You don’t have to stare,” she told Watt, discomfited. “I’m just trying to fit in.”