José made a small gesture with his hand, and the group of people around him instantly melted into the party. He led Leda and Watt to a side room, empty except for a small baby pool, where a few girls were splashing barefoot in the few centimeters of water. They took one look at José and retreated.
“You were friends of Mari’s?” José asked, drawing out the question to show that he didn’t believe them.
Leda decided it was safer not to lie. “We were friends of Eris’s, actually,” she cut in.
“I see. You’re a highlier,” José said laconically, as if that explained everything. His eyes traveled up and down Leda’s outfit, glittering with amusement, before turning to Watt. “You are, but not your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Leda said impatiently, ignoring the strange pang she felt at that statement. “We’re here because we wanted to know more about Mariel. She came to these parties a lot, didn’t she?”
José’s expression darkened. “If you think that I don’t regret that night every minute of every damn day—I should never have let her walk home alone when she was so obviously messed up. . . .” He faltered and looked away.
Oh, Leda realized. Maybe Mariel was last seen at one of these parties before she died. “It’s not your fault. She had a lot going on, before it . . . happened,” she ventured, wondering if the statement was too bold.
“Of course she had a lot going on. She’d just lost her girlfriend!” José burst out, then sighed, deflating. “She really loved Eris, you know.”
“I know,” Leda said softly, and even though it was woefully inadequate: “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t stop blaming myself,” José went on, more to himself than the two of them. “I keep thinking about her, wondering what she would be doing right now if I had insisted on walking her home that night. I’m almost tempted to go steal her diary, just to read her last few entries. Hear her voice again.”
Leda’s gaze whipped up. “Diary?”
“Those last few months, Mari had started carrying around a paper notebook. She never left home without it,” José said, and shrugged. “She said she loved how old-fashioned it felt.”
Leda exchanged a loaded glance with Watt. Did Mariel actually care about things being low-tech—or had she been trying to hide from Watt and his quantum computer, which she’d known about ever since the night in Dubai? If so, it worked. Watt and Nadia might be able to hack anything that ran on electricity, but neither of them had known about this notebook.
“You never saw what Mariel was writing in there?” Watt asked, and Leda could have kicked him for his lack of tact.
José looked offended. “I would never violate her privacy like that. Why are you so curious about it?” His eyes narrowed. “What did you say your names were?”
There was a beat of hot, shifting silence. “We were just leaving,” Leda said quickly, and turned away. Watt followed close on her heels.
As they walked back to the monorail station, the air tore bitterly through her thin jacket. Leda realized that she was trembling. Watt slipped his arm around her, and this time, she didn’t protest.
RYLIN
“CAN YOU PICK up more of the caramel-flavored caff packs while you’re out?” Chrissa asked, interrupting the languid silence of their apartment. She was lying facedown on her rumpled bedcovers, her chin tucked on her crossed arms, her eyes half closed as she supposedly studied for a history test on her brand-new contacts. Though Rylin suspected she might actually be cruising the i-Net. Or napping.
“No way. I refuse to support your caffeine addiction.” Rylin crouched before their shared closet, searching through the litter of debris on the floor for her buckled motorcycle boots.
Chrissa pushed herself up onto her elbows to shoot her older sister a glare. “My caffeine addiction? You’re the one who keeps sneaking those packets to school!”
“Only because the cafeteria refuses to serve anything except organic, vitamin-infused, ‘meditative’ water products,” Rylin confessed, and grinned. “Fine. I’ll grab another box.”
“Why are you and Hiral going to the mall today, anyway? It’s such a zoo on Sundays.” Chrissa wrinkled her nose a little at Hiral’s name. She didn’t like that Rylin had gotten back together with him, even though Hiral had done his best to try to win Chrissa over—brought her banana ice cream, fixed her earbuds when they broke, listened to her incessant talk about the girl on her volleyball team she was crushing on. And still Chrissa didn’t approve of him.
Rylin tried not to let her frustration show. “Why can’t you accept that I’m with Hiral, and stop acting weird about it?”
“Weird? What am I doing that’s weird? You’re the weird one,” Chrissa said evasively, to which Rylin rolled her eyes. She tried to remind herself that Chrissa was young and immature; but it hurt, the way she kept broadcasting her disapproval.
“I know you don’t like Hiral,” Rylin said quietly. “You still blame him for what he did last year, back when he was dealing. Which isn’t exactly fair, since I’m the one it impacted, and I forgave him a long time ago.”
“That’s not true,” Chrissa argued, “and it’s unfair of you to accuse me like that. I would never hold Hiral’s past against him.”