He shrugged. "I was playing music in front of a store the other day. The guy said I was good for business and filled me-twenty whole credits. This was in the window. I knew you'd like it. No big deal."

I should have given it back. I could tell it meant more to him than just a token of friendship, but it was so beautiful. I didn't have many beautiful things.

"Thanks." Sitting down on the curb, I took off my necklace and laced the horse between my other two charms. One was the number seven, which Gran had given to me on my seventh birthday. The other was from Pops, the letter T for "Truth." He says that the truth can't stay hidden. Derek's true feelings sure weren't. Not anymore.

Sandy sat down next to me and admired the little horse. "Cute! Good call, Derek."

He stuck his hands in his pockets, grinned at me, and shuffled over to Mike, who was busy looking at travel posters and listening to their verts.

"Here." I handed the necklace to Sandy. "Hook this for me, okay?" I turned my back to her and held up my hair so she could clasp it around my neck.

She fastened the necklace and I sat for a moment longer, people-watching. Two girls walked by, one had her view wrap on and was giving the other a blow-by-blow description of whatever it was she was watching. A kid on a zoom board careened around the corner, nearly hitting some guy. I thought for a second that the guy who dodged him was Sal. He wouldn't have followed me, would he? I hadn't told anyone what had happened-I didn't want to hear it from the guys. But I also didn't want to keep it to myself.

"The weirdest thing happened at the park." I proceeded to tell Sandy what happened on the mound. I had hardly finished the story when she pounced on me.

"Are you crazy!?" she asked, her eyes big as Chrometers. "Helping homeless?"

"Sandy, I'm fine. And he said he wasn't homeless."

"You don't know that for sure, do you? What is the matter with you, Nina? You want to get arrested?"

She was right. He could've been lying. It didn't matter now; I'd already helped him. "They can't arrest you for talking to someone." Could they? I wondered. "Besides, he was hurt. You know how I am about people getting hurt."

She knew. She'd been over after Ginnie and Ed's fights.

"But you could have . . . those 'letes ... they could've-"

"But they didn't." For once, Sandy was the protector and I was the reckless one. She was right, though. I could've ended up like Angel, maybe even worse. I shuddered, staring at the little veins trailing greenish blue right under the skin on my wrist. "If I was sixteen, they could've done whatever they wanted, and no one would have cared."

"It's not going to be like that, Nina." Sandy hugged me. "You just need to not do stuff like helping homeless anymore. Sixteen will be fun, you'll see."

"I hate that we have to get tattooed." I rubbed the imaginary Roman numerals off my skin.

"Nothing we can do about it. We'll get 'em and then we can have sex-"

"I thought you wanted to go into FeLS. Besides, how can you worry about what some guys might've done to me, when it's exactly the thing that you can't seem to wait to have happen to you?" Sometimes I didn't understand her at all.

"Of course I want FeLS. And I don't want some guy, or three, forcing me to have sex. I just can't wait to have all the guys wanting to have sex with me. Can't you see it now? Just like in the verts. Me, surrounded by Orie and Brek and Jude, all looking at me like . . . oh, you know." She tilted her head back, eyes shut and a big smile on her face. "What's cool is that when you're sixteen you can do it, if you want."

"It won't be Orie, Brek, or Jude if you're off on some space station learning how to be a diplomatic specialist."

"I mean after getting out of FeLS." Sandy bolted upright. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Even though he's a galactic-sized skiv, I bet your mom could get Ed to find out who the Chooser is and they could pick both of us! Then we could go to training together."

"I've told you a gazillion times, there's no way Ginnie would let me be a FeLS. Besides, I have to be around to take care of Dee." I had never been completely honest with Sandy about FeLS, never told her that I really didn't want to go. If FeLS relied on some guy like Ed, a former GC spy, to choose girls . . . well, anything that he's involved in couldn't be something I wanted to be in, no matter what.

"I could have my mom talk to her," Sandy offered. "It would be so much fun! 'Cause you know I'm going to miss you when I go." She squeezed me.

"You don't even know if you'll get chosen. Think of how many girls in our school are turning sixteen."

"Yeah, but I bet less than half of them are virgins." Sandy scrunched her eyebrows and nodded. "Yep, I'm sure to get chosen. I'm still a virgin and I look like a FeLS." She pushed up on her breasts and then smoothed her hands down her torso. "Just like on the cover of XVI Ways, right?" She studied herself in the store window, turning and twisting around like a model.

"Right." A part of me had dreamed about being chosen for FeLS once. The FeLS graduates who came to talk to us at school were all tier five or above. They got good jobs after their FeLS time. I'd figured when I was out of training and making lots of credits, I'd have enough so I could move Ginnie and Dee back to Chicago into a higher-tier place. Ginnie wouldn't have to see Ed anymore and we'd be happy, like we'd been when I was little.

Sandy was right-there were strings that could be pulled. If she wanted to, Ginnie could get Ed to make sure I was chosen. But after I turned twelve and was eligible for the extra-credit FeLS prep classes, Ginnie told me outright that she'd never allow me to go. Even if I did get chosen, Ginnie said she'd buy out my contract, somehow. She enrolled me in a Creatives' art class instead. I don't know that I was ever that disappointed to not go the FeLS classes-I loved art, and sketching came naturally to me. I was just like Ginnie in that way.

I glanced over at Sandy, who was still prancing and preening. "That's the other thing, Sandy-I'm not pretty enough to be chosen."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a smaller bag filled to overflowing with makeup. "I can fix that!" She sprayed something on my hair. Teasing out some strands, she styled away, patting and combing. Then she said, "We could stuff your bra, no one would ever know." She jammed her hand back in the bag and produced a handful of tissues. "Here."

Fortunately, Mike and Derek interrupted us at that moment. I pressed the tissues back into Sandy's hand and ran my hands through my hair so it was back to normal. Glancing in the window, I checked to make sure I looked like me again.

"Ready? To the zoo," Mike announced, pointing northward.

We tromped down the street, and on the way, I glanced down every side street and alley, half expecting to see Sal. They were mostly empty except for a few homeless who melted into the alleyscapes like ghosts.

VII.

Since Mike volunteered at the zoo, he had a digital code by his ID that allowed him access to restricted areas. He let us all in, then took Sandy to the cow barn to see the baby calves while Derek followed me to the horse barn. We both grabbed a handful of treats from a dispenser and got into the petting line.

"I hope you like the charm." His eyes got a kind of dreamy look and his arm brushed up against mine and he stayed close.

"I love it." I stepped back, glancing down the row of waiting people. "Not too busy today. It won't be long before we get to the front."

He moved closer again. "I know how much you like horses, and-"

"Yeah, you do, too." No way was I going to let him say something stupid if I could help it. "Hey, look, it's Pepper." I pointed to the horse being petted by a couple and their little girl. "Cool! She's my favorite."

Derek reached for my hand. "You're my fav-"

"Derek-" I pulled my hand away and stuffed it into my pocket and faced him square on. It was not the time to be subtle. "We're friends, right? Like Mike? We're best friends."

"But I-"

Pepper bumped me, demanding her treats. I gave her some grain pellets, barely noticing her velvety nose nuzzle my hand, which was always my favorite part.

Looking up, I spotted Mike and Sandy through the open doorway. "Hey, let's go." I ducked outside, narrowly missing a head-on collision with someone. "'Scuse me," I muttered, keeping my head down, intent on escaping any more one-on-one conversation with Derek.

"What's your hurry, Nina?"

Sal. I spun around. I might not have recognized Sal in his regular clothes, but there was no mistaking the voice. Or the green-and-purple bruises. Was he following me? It must have been him I'd seen on Michigan Avenue. This was not a coincidence. My heart started pounding faster. I was actually relieved when Derek caught up to me.

"Nina-hey, who's this?" he asked.

"Derek, this is Sal." Glancing over Sal's shoulder in the direction of the cow barn, I yanked on Derek's arm. "Come on." I nodded at Sal. "We gotta catch our friends. See ya."

"Mind if I tag along?" Without waiting for an answer, Sal fell into step with us.

"Okay," Derek said, looking at me.

I ignored both of them and walked faster toward Mike and Sandy. They were behind the barn, hanging on the fence, mooing at the pasture's inhabitants, who were completely oblivious to them.

Sandy saw us coming and hopped down. When she spotted Sal, she shook out her hair. I thought she looked like a horse when she did that, but guys seemed to like it. At least XVI Ways, the most popular teen zine ever, said they do. There was even a vid showing how to shake your head properly, for maximum effect. Sandy'd rehearsed the move from the XVI Ways Nonverbal Cues guide every day. I thought it was stupid-but still I'd sit there watching while she practiced. It wasn't nearly as impressive with my short dark hair.

"Who's this?" she asked Derek. "Someone from your band?"

"No, he's a friend of Nina's."

I could see she was about to say something else, so I stepped in before she had the chance. "This is Sal."

Mike pointed to the bruises on Sal's face. "What happened to you? Kiss a trans?"

"Might as well have." Sal laughed. "I walked into a door."

"Hey." Derek had been staring pretty intently at him. "I know you. You go to Daley. My locker's across the hall from yours."

"Oh, yeah," Mike said. "You're the guy whose parents died in that leviton crash."

Leave it to Mike to get straight to the heart of things, no matter how tactless.

"I am," Sal replied.

"That's awful," I said. "I'm really-"

"My dad's dead, too." Sandy slipped closer to him, flashing her sweetest smile. She started twirling a lock of her hair.

More Nonverbal Cues guide. Sandy was acting so typically sixteen; it didn't matter to her at all that her birthday was still a month away. I shouldn't have been surprised that she brought up her father being dead to connect with Sal. She was so desperate for guys' attention, for any kind of connection. That was the last thing I wanted to do, so I kept my mouth shut about my dad.

I'd hoped Sal would leave, but it appeared he was staying. And I wanted to stop Sandy from looking like a fool, throwing herself at him. It seemed like small talk was my only choice. "So who do you live with?"

Sal's eyes met mine. I hadn't anticipated the effect those deep brown eyes would have on me. My pulse sped up and I felt my heart banging against my chest. I dropped my gaze to the ground and toed lines in the gravel.

"My brother, John, took me in after our parents died. I help him out repairing transports and city transits. My sister-in-law says it pays my expenses."

"You work on trannies?" Mike said. "That is so cool. I saw one the other day that I really want. It's an early-thirties cruiser; comet-tail red, with Orion pin-striping and chromax levelers. Man, what I wouldn't give to have something like that."

"Have you got your own?" Derek asked. It appeared he was as impressed as Mike. The pressure was off me, at least for the time being.

"I got my license last year. But John won't let me buy one until I'm eighteen. He says young drivers have too many accidents. Sounds just like my dad used to. I do get to drive his 260G Perseids sometimes. Man, it's as fast as a tri-leviton express."

Almost instantly, the guys were deep into discussing the pros and cons of personal versus multitransits and what models were the best. Sandy tugged me over to the fence.

"That's him, isn't it?" She kept her eyes glued on Sal. "He's really cute. You didn't tell me he was really cute." She cut her eyes at me for a second, quickly looking back at Sal.

"He's okay, if you like tall and skinny. And what happened to my being in danger for talking to a homeless?" I didn't say what I thought of his looks, and I didn't dare confide the effect he'd had on me. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, least of all some guy who snuck around in rags and had a raging case of attitude. I did feel bad for him about his parents.

"Oh, he's definitely not homeless." She eyed him in a way that made me blush. "And I prefer to call it lean and lanky. Ultrayum!"

"Cut it out, Sandy. You're as bad as those eighteens on the express." The way she said it was like Sal was nothing more than something to be devoured. It shouldn't have reminded me of the pig-eyed 'lete, but it did. I shook it off, putting it down to me thinking too much about Angel and what could have happened. "Speaking of the express ..." I pulled her wrist over, checking the time on her chronos. "We'd better leave soon. I have to be home by six."

The guys were still talking trannies. "Hey, we gotta go," I said. "I'm watching Dee tonight."

"We'll walk you to the station," Derek offered.

"No, you guys hang out. See ya."

Sal pulled out his PAV receiver. "Hey, Nina, I accidentally deleted my list. What's your number?"

Before I could reply, Mike blurted it out.

Sal ticked it in, grinning at me the whole time. "I'll call you later."

My heart beat faster, but this time out of anger. I started to tell him not to call until I noticed everyone looking at me. Sandy's I-could-kill-you glare stood out like a beacon.

"What?" I glared right back at her. "Later, guys." Sandy charged off down the sidewalk.

Derek looked from me to Sal and back again. "Yeah, later, Nina," he echoed.

By the time I caught up to Sandy, she wasn't speaking to me. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

She stopped in the center island on State Street, planted her hands on her hips, and lit into me. "What do you think you're doing, giving Sal your number? You knew I thought he was cute and wanted to hang out. We could've taken the later express. Do you want him for yourself? I didn't think you wanted a boyfriend."

It seemed like a million transits whizzed by us while she went on-berating and blaming me. Finally, I grabbed her sleeve. "Sandy, stop!"

She yanked her arm away and stared at me. "Well?"

"Well what? I didn't give Sal my number, Mike did. I don't care whether he's cute or not, or whether he likes you or not. And you're right, I don't want a boyfriend. Between you and Derek ... hellzit . . . one minute you're my best friend and the next you're treating me like a traitor. Is some guy we just met more important than the fact that we've been best friends practically forever? Huh?"

Sandy dropped her gaze and didn't answer.

"Friends are supposed to talk stuff over, not jump to crazy conclusions," I said. "What's the matter with you anyway? Is this what sixteen is going to do to you? I thought you knew me better." I marched past her across the street. Then I had to turn around and holler, "Are you coming?"

VIII.

Because of Sandy's tirade, we ended up on the later express and barely got back to Cementville on time. We didn't talk much on the way home. Sandy apologized at least five times, promising that I was more important than any guy. I knew she meant it-at least she meant it the moment she said it.

At that point, I didn't much care about what would happen when Sandy turned sixteen, or when I turned sixteen. I was more concerned about being late. Ginnie didn't often ask me to watch Dee. And here I was, letting some guy and sixteen make me break my promise.

"Sorry I'm late." I tossed my sweater on the sofa. "Where's Dee?"

"She's in her room." Ginnie came out of the bathroom and gave me a quick kiss. Her makeup hardly covered the yellowing remains of a nasty bruise on her cheekbone. I didn't say anything. We had an unwritten rule: no discussing Ed-inflicted injuries, period.

I was surprised to see papers strewn on the couch; Ginnie was a total neat freak. "What's this?" I picked up an envelope from the cushion that had Rita scribbled on it. "Who's Rita?"

"No one special. She's a friend." Ginnie took it from me and stuffed it into her purse.