All I had to say was that my dad was working late and Becca lit up. “You can have dinner at my place,” she said. “Dad likes you—I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Her warmth was so genuine that I felt a pang of guilt. If I’d met her before, in my old life, we could’ve been friends.
But I was Augusta Pine now. I had to prove Prefect wasn’t wrong to recruit me.
When I returned to the town house, Becca flashed her hand over the town house’s tattoo scanner. I saw the tiny cameras that would be checking both our faces against an internal recognition software. Mr. Bergvall was sitting at the dining room table, a computer before him. He had a half-empty coffee cup and wore his glasses atop his head. He looked utterly ordinary.
“Girls,” he said, rising from his seat.
“I hope it’s okay,” said Becca. “Augusta’s dad is working late and I said she could have dinner with us.”
Mr. Bergvall smiled at us both. “Fine with me. I was just going to order pizza, if that’s all right? Or something else we don’t need forks for. The silverware is buried… somewhere.” He gestured at a pile of boxes in the corner.
I smiled, but it was far less genuine. “Thanks, Mr. Bergvall.”
“We have more algebra homework,” said Becca.
“If you need any help, let me know.” Mr. Bergvall slid back onto his chair, attention on his computer. Becca took me by the arm and led me to the stairs.
“He works a lot,” I said.
Becca nodded, a little rueful. “He’s always been a workaholic, even before Mom died. After that… it’s where he retreated to.”
“What does he do?” Surely that was a normal question someone would ask.
“He works in robotics and programming,” said Becca. “He’s been designing virtual assistants for years.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “Almost every house has one.”
Becca pushed her bedroom door open. “Thanks for coming over. I think my dad’s been worried about me making friends.”
“You’ve only lived here for a few weeks,” I replied.
Becca plopped down on the floor. “Yeah, I know. But we’ve moved around a lot since my mom diedand we haven’t really stayed in one place for long. I still keep in touch with people from my middle school, but it’s not the same.” She offered me a tentative smile. “It’s hard, meeting people when you’re the only new girl.”
I’d had friends, once. Many of them. Meeting new people had never been an issue for me, mostly because I was confident and unafraid to speak out in class. I hadn’t been the most popular girl, but I’d always attracted friends. The only time I’d had trouble talking to someone, it had been… him.
I still couldn’t bear to think his name. I wasn’t sure if I could ever speak it again.
I wondered what those friends thought of me now—the girl who’d killed her crush with a badly hacked car. Maybe they thought it had been an accident. Or maybe they blamed me.
It was easier being dead. Otherwise, I’d have to face them. I’d have to face my family. I’d have to face his family.
That thought made me desperate to think of anything else. My eyes fell on the electronic picture frame. I nodded to it. “Is that your mom?”
Becca picked up the frame. “Yes.” She held it out and I took it, glancing over the picture. The woman stood in front of what looked like a new house, beaming at it.
“She was pretty,” I said, handing it back. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Becca traced a finger along the glass.“It’s been a year. But I still miss her. At least I have this. There’s over two thousand pictures of us on here.”
“Are all your pictures of your mom on that frame?” I asked. “What if something happened to it?”
Becca shook her head. “They’re on my computer, too. Just in case.”
“No online backups?” I said quietly.
“My dad doesn’t trust them,” Becca replied, putting the frame back. “Says they’re too easily hacked.”
Which was true. But that meant—
