Fake Page 6

  Yeah? So? I’m so sick of everyone–including my dad and Jake-assuming that just because I can kick cinder blocks into rubble, I must be a paragon of self-sufficiency. That my black belt in karate and my standoffish personality mean I don’t need anyone, ever.

  Um . . . hello? Let’s riddle this one together, shall we? The fact that I can fight means I tend to end up in fights, which means (now bear with me here) that I’m more likely to end up hurt/in trouble/possibly needing help. Got me? And my tendency, at least in the past, to shoo away the social butterflies? Well, that’s just textbook defense strategy, isn’t it? We loner misfits who act all tough are really just soggy marshmallows on the inside. We may snarl, “Get lost!” but what we’re really saying is, “Love me, hold me, be my best friend.”

  Maybe I never really felt these insecurities when I was fearless, but they were there. And now that I can sense them, it’s not this small shadow being cast on my self-image. It’s more like . . . Freddy Krueger massaging my intestines. It hits me so hard, it hurts.

  The real fact is, I need someone. I always did. In a way, getting the fear gene was like yanking off a heavy, blinding helmet, allowing me to see how insane the world really is and how alone I really am. It’s scary. I mean, I’m only seventeen. Why should I be made to look after myself? It isn’t fair.

  Lately, in my darkest moments, when I can feel the evil and despair crushing in from all directions, I’ve fantasized about being locked up somewhere–someplace where I’d be safe, where others would have to look after me at all times. I’ve even envied those people stuck in institutions. Yes, it’s true. Me, Gaia, supposed Queen of all Miss Independents, actually dreamed of a rubber-room existence. It just seemed so nice and simple. People bringing me meals, changing my bed, always talking in those hushed kindergarten teacher voices. I wouldn’t have to go anywhere or do anything but watch 7th Heaven reruns and make lanyards.

  But maybe I don’t need to go quite that far. Maybe all I need is someone willing to look after me. Someone who sees that I’m not all that together–despite all the kicking and punching skills–and could use a little guidance.

  And right now I’m thinking that someone could be Skyler.

  absolute mess of a girl

  He needed to grab the city by the scruff of the neck and shake Gaia out of it.

  Wonderful World of Rodke

  “YES, THAT’S RIGHT. RODKE. R-o-d-k-e.” Jake paced around the sidewalk, holding his cell phone to one ear and covering the other with his hand. “My name is Gerald Rodke and I’m trying to locate my cousin, Skyler Rodke, who’s a student there. My dad, his uncle . . . uh . . . Fester, is in the hospital. It’s really bad. His last wish is to see his nephew, but we don’t have Skyler’s current address or phone number. Couldn’t you maybe—?”

  “I’m sorry,” the university operator replied through her nostrils, “but we cannot give out students’ personal information.”

  “I know. I know. It’s for security and all. You need to protect them from all the crazies out there. But see, I’m his family. This is a family emergency. A matter of life and death.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jake hated the way she kept saying that without really meaning it.

  “All right,” he said, exhaling heavily. “I’m going to level with you. I’m not really his cousin.” There was a silence on the other end of the line. Finally he’d gotten her to really listen. “My name is Agent Montone and I’m with the CIA. I need to speak with Skyler Rodke about a highly classified subject—”

  Jake heard a series of clicks followed by the low mournful pitch of the dial tone.

  Okay, so he really hadn’t expected that to work, but come on! Why couldn’t he get a break? He needed some sort of lead. A tip-off from one of Skyler’s friends. A phone call from Gaia. A neon billboard that flashed “This way to Skyler’s.” Hell, he’d settle for someone telling him which freaking direction to walk in.

  The day was already half over, but when he last called Gaia’s boardinghouse, Suko had said she still wasn’t home. It occurred to him that she might be lying for Gaia, but that didn’t seem her style.

  He had the distinct feeling that time was running out. Something awful was happening to Gaia, but he didn’t know what. Or where, when, how, or why.

  But he did know who.

  Jake chucked the phone into his bag and stood back on the sidewalk, glaring at the nearby buildings. Then, in a sudden burst of decisiveness, he turned and started running northward.

  He was tired of fooling around. Tired of tiptoeing about waiting for a clue to land in his lap. He needed to grab the city by the scruff of the neck and shake Gaia out of it. Forget undercover methods and being all “professional.” He needed to deal with the problem the only way he knew how: direct and in-your-face. This wasn’t just an assignment. This was Gaia.

  He hurried down the still-slick sidewalks, tapping into his bottled-up rage to use as fuel for his weary, sleep-deprived body. Meanwhile those maddening thoughts he’d been trying to keep at bay crept back into his consciousness, unspooling through his mind like a disjointed and extremely annoying infomercial.

  Somebody had gotten to Gaia, and Oliver seemed to think there was a Rodke connection. What that connection was, Jake had no idea. But it pissed him off.

  Gaia had been his. They had been through so much together, understood each other to an almost basic, molecular level. But lately Gaia hadn’t been Gaia anymore. According to Oliver, her genetic code had been tampered with. And what infuriated him to no end was that it had happened on his watch. He should have sensed it coming, but he didn’t. He let her down.

  Jake’s anger propelled him all the way to Fifth Avenue. Soon the Rodkes’ elegant apartment building zoomed into view like an exterior shot from a movie. The Wonderful World of Rodke. It looked too stylish to house dark secrets. But then, he reminded himself, weren’t all the pretty, colorful snakes always the most poisonous?

  A doorman in a neat blue suit was standing under the front awning. He watched Jake warily as he approached. Jake found himself wishing he’d cleaned himself up a bit before coming.

  “Hi,” he greeted casually. “I’m here to see the Rodkes.”

  “You’re from the Village School?” the man asked, taking in Jake’s scruffy clothes and two-day whisker growth.

  “Uh . . . yeah,” Jake replied. “I go to school with Liz and Chris.”

  The man pulled open the front door. “Seventeenth floor,” he said, motioning with his free hand toward the elevator.

  That was easy, Jake thought as the elevator began to rise with a soothing hydraulic whir. Could they be expecting me?

  The elevator glided to a stop and the doors parted, revealing the Rodkes’ gray-and-beige-striped vestibule. Jake stepped out and knocked on the black-lacquered front door.

  Liz opened it and beamed at him in surprise, her front teeth gleaming in the chandelier light like a row of square pearls. “Jake! What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for Gaia.”

  Liz’s face fell. “Still? Didn’t you find her last night?”

  “No,” he replied, feeling a prick of irritation. “Listen. I know she’s with Skyler and I’ve got to talk to her. It’s really important. Could you tell me where he lives?”

  Liz crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door frame. “How do you know she’s with Skyler?”

  “I . . . I just know.”

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered, wavy lines appearing on her forehead. “What’s going on, Jake?”

  “Nothing. I mean . . . okay. Yes, something is going on, but I can’t tell you what.” Jake tried to contain his irritation inside his clenched fists. Why did she insist on giving him the third degree? Wasn’t it obvious that this was important? “I really need to find Gaia. Please, just tell me where Skyler lives.”

  “I can’t do that.” She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  There was that word again. Jake held back the urge to begin shouting. “Why?” he asked, taking
a deep breath. “Why can’t you?”

  “Look, my family is just really protective about stuff like that. It’s for security reasons.”

  “But this is really important!” He didn’t even try to disguise his exasperation anymore. It bothered him to hear her talk about the importance of Skyler’s security when Gaia could be in major trouble.

  “How am I supposed to know that?” Liz countered, her own voice rising. “You won’t even tell me what this is all about!”

  Jake reached up and lightly pounded his fist against the doorjamb. “I told you,” he said in a low, measured voice. “I need to talk to Gaia. I’m really worried about her and she’s been out all night. With your brother.”

  Liz raised her right eyebrow. “Oh, really? So she spent the night with Skyler and now you want to go over there and talk? Yeah, right. I see where this is headed. You think I’m going to let you go over there and pick a fight? Forget it!”

  “No! It’s not that way at all!” Jake exclaimed.

  But Liz just kept shaking her head, her wry expression cemented to her features. God, he was an idiot! What was he going to do now?

  Of course he wanted to beat up Skyler. He wanted to pound him into a puddle of grease. He wanted to rearrange his pretty-boy face until he looked like someone in a Picasso painting. But he wouldn’t—at least, not as long as Gaia was okay. But how was he supposed to convince Liz he was more concerned with Gaia’s safety than her fidelity? He couldn’t. Not without saying even worse things about her brother.

  But he wouldn’t give up now. Liz was his last and only chance. Somehow he had to make her understand.

  Artfully Subtle

  PARADISE. EDEN. VALHALLA. FIFTH Avenue. It was all the same.

  Megan cast an approving eye over the fastidiously manicured lawns, the opulent stone buildings, and the postcard views of Central Park. Even the pigeons looked better over here. Their feathers seemed brighter and well pressed—as if each bird had been carefully outfitted by Chanel.

  Yep, this was definitely her place. Other people might feel a calling to go to Africa, to help out the animals or whatever. But she’d always known she’d end up here, in this zip code. After all, these were her people. They knew all about the better things in life. Which, let’s face it, made them better than just ordinary people.

  Like Mr. Rodke. He’d heard that the prom committee was trying to raise money for decorations and had promised a sizable donation. Now they could finally get the good stuff instead of the cheap paper and plastic things. Obviously he didn’t want his son and daughter to have to suffer a cheesy prom. And thanks to his generosity, everyone in the Village School would benefit. Now if they could just get Amy van Cline to shut up about having a medieval May fest theme. Please!

  Megan knew she’d made a really good impression on Mr. Rodke over the phone. As president of the prom committee, she’d thanked him for his thoughtful contribution and even made a comment about it not being that long since his own prom. He’d laughed appreciatively.

  At first he offered to have Liz bring the check to school, but Megan managed to change his mind, insisting that Liz had enough to do and that she didn’t mind picking up the check herself on Saturday since she was going to be in neighborhood.

  Now she was finally going to get her foot in the Rodke door—so to speak. Although it was rather embarrassing that she’d had to resort to such tactics for an invite.

  Unlike Gaia Moore, she thought, lifting her chin in indignation. How that absolute mess of a girl had managed to worm her way into their favor was beyond her. Maybe this was Chris and Liz’s way of rebelling against their upbringing? Whatever. She’d just have to work on the dad. She’d finagle a dinner invitation and prove that she was worthy of their friendship. Mr. Rodke obviously wanted the best for his kids. He’d make sure she got into their social scene. Chris and Liz would have no choice.

  Really, it would be for the best. Down the line they would have eventually grown weary of Gaia’s crudeness, anyway. This way she could be there when they cut Gaia off, and together the three of them could laugh at how messed up she was.

  Megan stopped a few yards from the Rodke building and checked her reflection in her pink Estée Lauder compact. She smoothed the flips in her hair and practiced her high-society smile—warm in a closed, unimpressed sort of way. She had to keep her eagerness in check and prove she was one of them.

  “Good afternoon,” she said brightly as she approached the doorman. “I’m a representative of the Village School, here to see the Rodkes.”

  He frowned slightly. “Yes,” he said after a slight pause. Then he opened the door and gestured inside. “Seventeenth floor.”

  Okay, that was rude, she thought, stepping into the gleaming wooden lift. Someone should teach him a thing or two about proper deference.

  As the elevator approached the seventeenth floor, a commotion of muffled, yelling voices cut through the steel walls. The doors opened and the volume intensified. Megan stepped out into the vestibule and froze, her artfully subtle smile transmuting into a gaping stare.

  Directly in front of her stood Liz Rodke and Jake Montone in some sort of angry face-off. Liz’s hands rested on her hips, which were cocked up to the right, the same angle as her head. Meanwhile Jake stood in a clenched, pleading stance. Arms bent in front of him, fists pressing against each other.

  “How do you know Gaia slept over at my brother’s apartment? She could be anywhere!” Liz shouted.

  “I just know,” Jake replied in a low sizzle.

  Hello. Megan’s smile returned, wider than before. What’s this about Gaia sleeping over at Skyler’s?

  This was turning out even better than she’d imagined.

  “Well, there’s no way I’m going to let you go over there and start trouble! Why don’t you just—” Liz paused, finally noticing Megan over Jake’s shoulder. “Hi!” she greeted, a little too loudly and overly enthusiastic. “You’ve come for the check, right?”

  Megan nodded, still too stunned for speech.

  “Excuse me, Jake,” Liz said in mock sympathy. “I’ve got some important family business to attend to. Just a moment, Megan. I’ll go get the check.”

  As she stalked away, Jake slowly crumpled forward as if in defeat. Then, exhaling heavily, he walked over to the elevator and gave the down button a harsh jab.

  Megan stepped up beside him, a morbid curiosity straining at the inside of her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand on his forearm. “I couldn’t help overhearing all that.”

  He tensed at her touch, his cheek muscles doing a rhythmic spasm.

  “I hate to say I told you so,” she went on, “but we’ve been trying to warn you about Gaia for a while now.”

  Again he said nothing, his eyes glaring at the elevator doors as if trying to burn through the metal.

  “She doesn’t deserve someone like you. She’s too—”

  There was a loud, inappropriately cheerful ding as the elevator returned to the floor. Then the doors parted and Jake marched inside, wrenching his arm out of her grasp in the process.

  “Bye, Jake,” she called merrily. “See you at school!” Her view of his slouched form narrowed with the closing doors, then disappeared entirely.

  Gaia and Skyler? she thought, twirling back toward the Rodkes’ posh entranceway. She bounced in her Blahniks, feeling absolutely giddy.

  She really wished Liz would hurry up with that stupid check. Suddenly she had a lot of important calls to make.

  Scum Magnet

  GAIA SHIFTED HER POSITION ON Skyler’s couch, rearranging the plush robe to cover her bent legs. Then she closed her eyes, letting the raspy vigor of the violins in Tartini’s The Devil’s Sonata ebb and flow through her body.

  It had been the only thing in his CD collection that appealed to her. Everything else was too sad, too angry, too . . . J.Lo. Skyler’s music seemed to be all twenty-something angst. Whiny singing over whiny guitars. Hard rock bands with their bullet-train bass lines and
Cookie Monster vocals. Then, stuck in among the testosterone tracks, was a collection of Italian baroque music. Who knew?

  “You sure you don’t want one of these?” Gaia opened her eyes and saw Skyler emerge from the kitchen, rattling a glass of a sparkly, cinnamon-colored liquid. “I make a mean highball.”

  “No, thanks,” she replied. “I don’t drink.”

  “You sure? I mean, I think it’s great you don’t drink and all, but it might help you relax.”

  “It’s okay. Really. I’m relaxed.”

  It was true. She felt immensely better after her bath. Completely unwound, yet mentally invigorated. Even the ill-defined dread in the pit of her stomach had subsided to a dull rumble, like the nagging feeling you get when you forgot something important.

  “So where were we?” Skyler muttered, settling into the armchair. He draped his right leg over one armrest and perched his left elbow on the other, lazily holding up his drink. Again Gaia was struck by his boy-king manner, that captivating mixture of authority and rakishness. “Oh, yeah, you were telling me who you hang out with at school—besides your boyfriend.”

  Gaia shrugged. “I don’t know. Mainly Liz and Chris.”

  Gaia Moore, this is your life! She still couldn’t understand why Skyler found her so fascinating. But she had to admit she liked his interest. It made her feel significant somehow—more valuable.

  “What about before we moved here?” Skyler went on. “Surely you had lots of friends before we came.”

  “Not really. Just Jake and—” She paused. She’d been about to say Ed, but that wasn’t exactly true. He was special to her—he’d always be special to her—but Ed hadn’t been a real friend for a while now. Even before the Rodkes had come onto the scene, they’d been in a self-imposed separation. “Just Jake.”

  “No girlfriends?”

  Gaia twisted the fingers of her left hand. She thought of Mary, lying in a pool of blood. Of Heather, her beautiful blue eyes dimmed and unseeing. Then she thought of the FOHs with their collection of smirks, sneers, and phony smiles, all expertly crafted just for her.