I would like to apologise for this chapter being up a day late. It was ready to go yesterday, but Wattpad picked a really inconvenient time to do 2+ hour maintenance. I feel like I've broken my updating streak, even if it was only by a few hours.
-------------------
"You've got to be joking."
My gaze flickered between both parents, searching for any trace of a joke in either stony face. But there was nothing. Behind the kitchen countertop, it couldn't have been plainer that my mum and dad were not messing around.
"You're serious?" I tried, the tail end of my voice rising in disbelief. "In what world could you possibly think this might be a good idea?"
"Astrid," my father said quietly. "Believe me, I don't. But we don't have a choice."
"Of course we have a choice. Just call in and say we've all come down with a stomach bug. They won't question that. If anything, it'll make the story more believable, won't it?"
It was a good enough plan for me, but my dad shared none of the same confidence. "We can't risk anything that might look suspicious," he said. "We have to go."
At a loss, I looked to my mother, but her solemn look was no improvement on Dad's. It was a lost cause before I even got the words out. "Mum? Back me up here. Surely you can't think it's wise for the three of us to go strolling into the government-sponsored BioNeutral launch party?"
She had one hand on his arm, gripping so tightly her nails ran the risk of digging into his skin. "Your father's been personally invited," she said, like they hadn't already told me this five minutes ago. "The company's had close government connections ever since they struck the clean-up deal in the first place. It's going to look more suspicious if we start making excuses."
"But it's BioNeutral," I said, wondering if they were even realising it. "Didn't you see them on TV last week? Their entire purpose is to weed out people like me. To even think of wandering into their first event – it'll be like handing myself in at the first opportunity!"
"They've no reason to suspect anything." Dad spoke in the kind of reassuring tone that, five years ago, might've felt comforting. But too much had happened since then, and I'd learned the hard way that my parents were not the highest authority to be trusted. "Investigations have gone no further than Eva Kelly. If BioPlus play their cards right – which they will – there won't be any reason to suspect she was anything but an anomaly. The whole organisation's a publicity stunt to keep tensions under control."
"But how can you know for certain?"
"Trust me, Astrid." When his dark-eyed gaze met mine, I wondered if he knew how hard I would be to convince. "You think I'd send my own daughter walking blindly into something that could be dangerous?"
I stared back at him, not saying a word. The answer in my head wasn't exactly what he was insinuating, and it was too risky to do anything but bite my tongue. At least it was good practice for the future.
"If you stick with us," my mother piped up, as I noticed her grip on Dad's arm tighten even more, "you have no reason to worry."
Of course I did. If anything, I had all the reason in the world.
But, like with everything else, I no longer had a choice.
***
The place was packed. And I was nervous.
With everything going on, City Hall didn't seem like the safest place for a high-profile launch, but maybe that was part of the government's confident façade. A heavy police presence had already cleared the crowd, leaving the area in front of the building almost empty, but the metal barriers still had their own sinister presence.
"Astrid."
As we headed up the steps, I was pulled from my thoughts by my mother's voice. She was holding up the bottom of her deep green gown, shooting me a stern look.
"Stay with us," she warned, which seemed kind of redundant, considering I'd barely fallen two paces behind. "Remember what we talked about."
Like it was even possible to forget. The instructions had been drilled into me with the same kind of severity as interview prep, and perhaps even worse consequences.
Stay close.
Don't talk to anybody that doesn't speak to you first.
Smile.
Still, it was kind of difficult to muster up any display of happiness: the dark green heels my mother had forced upon me were already digging into my toes, and the black lace collar of my dress was unbearably itchy against my neck. The whole image was unnatural – and wasn't that the kind of impression we were trying to avoid? For somebody supposed to be staying under the radar, I sure as hell felt like I was drawing a lot of attention.
"I am," I murmured, but quickened my steps all the same.
City Hall had been entirely transformed from its TV appearances. The pillared entrance was now lit up by soft green lighting, and reprints of the BioNeutral logo were plastered across everything in sight. It was on the back of the doorman's clipboard, projected onto the marble floor of the entrance hall – even stamped onto the back of my hand in deep green ink once we passed through security. I tried to tell myself nobody suspected a thing, but that wasn't enough to stop me feeling like cattle marked for slaughter.
The cartoon strands of DNA, twisted into the shape of a leaf, felt like they were burning their way into my skin. But since nobody else seemed to be paying attention to their hand, all I could do was ignore it.
Everything about City Hall was overwhelming, and we'd only made it into the entrance hall. Two twirling staircases ran up either side of the room, meeting in the middle to form an overhanging balcony. The ceiling felt like it was miles above us, and every light on the wall had been dimmed to soft colour, so the entire room was bathed in a dark green glow.
There were enough people milling around in the hall, all wearing suits and floor-length gowns that looked just as uncomfortable as mine, but the noise down the hall told us we had yet to walk into the thick of things. "Come on," my dad said. "Let's head in."
It was strange to see beads of sweat on his forehead. We'd attended plenty of his work events; invitations to the highest social functions had been flooding in since he sold the rights of the company's patent to the government. Work life was what he really understood, and there was hardly a time I saw him more comfortable than discussing potential expansion over a glass of champagne.
However, tonight, things had changed. For the first time, my dad actually looked apprehensive – but then again, it wasn't every day we had to walk around feeling like undercover criminals.
We barely made it inside the event space before someone called his name. Within seconds, his hand was being shaken by a tall, balding man who looked all too happy to see him.
"Mr Oxford!" he said. "I thought it was only a matter of time before I bumped into you. Some of the others were wondering if you were coming."
My heart skipped, but if my dad's did the same, he didn't show it. "Nonsense," he said smoothly, as their hands dropped. "You know I wouldn't miss the launch of the biggest government project of the year. Not for the world."
The recovery was effortless, miles better than anything I could've managed. Maybe sticking around my parents was a smarter idea than I thought. "Of course, of course."
"You've already met my wife, Katherine," Dad said, gesturing. "Katherine, this is Dr Rizzuto. Managing director of the New London Climate Campaign. We worked together on the emissions project last year."
My mother's smile was instantaneous, like somebody had flipped a switch. "Of course! Lovely to see you again," she gushed, extending the hand that wasn't gripping my dad's upper arm. "How are the kids?"
"Oh, wonderful." He adjusted the cuffs of his suit, which seemed like a nervous tic, but maybe I was just being sceptical. "Haven had her interview for UNL just last week. We haven't had the results yet, but we're all pretty confident the acceptance letter will be coming our way soon."
"Let me introduce you to Astrid." As my dad motioned for me to step closer, I tried to ignore the shooting pain in my toes. "My daughter. She also just went in for the interview."
My hand was being gripped before I had time to realise it. Dr Rizzuto's enthusiasm seemed to shake my entire arm. "Wonderful to meet you!" he said, as I wondered exactly how many more times he was going to use the word. "I say, Harrison, you need to watch her. Beautiful girl like that... I hope you'll be getting a say in her pairing before she runs off with any old boy."
"Excuse me?"
It escaped me before I could stop it. Only afterward did I remember my parents' instructions, if only from the way they were both looking at me.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean any offence!" he cut in. "Please don't take it like that. I just meant that you'll have the offers pouring in, you know, and it's only likely that your father will need to start weighing up the best options..."
The irritation was bubbling inside me, but Dad cut across both of us like he could feel the tension in the air. "I don't think we have to worry about that just yet," he said, managing a slightly strained smile, though I had a feeling that was more to do with me than anything on Dr Rizzuto's part. "Astrid attends Kristopher Holland Academy. The focus is very much academic rather than anything else."
"Wise move," he said knowingly. The surreptitious wink he gave my father made me feel kind of nauseous. "If only I could say the same for Haven. Things are a little different down at the college."
"You haven't considered KHA?"
I might've been imagining it, but Dr Rizzuto seemed to shrink backward a little. "We considered it," he said evasively. "It just wasn't... well, we're not entirely sure Haven might have been what they were looking for..."
Then, all of a sudden, he straightened on the spot. "But everything worked out, didn't it? With any luck, she'll be off to UNL in the autumn... maybe you two will find yourselves classmates!"
"Yeah," I said, the vague answer about all I could trust myself with. "Maybe."
Thankfully, this was the point he looked back over to my dad, away from me. "Well, I won't impose my company on you any longer!" he said cheerily, and I wondered why he felt the need to shake so many hands in the space of one conversation. "I've just spotted Dr Watson over there, and I've got a few burning questions to ask her about her report on the new nanotech system."
I couldn't say I was sad to see the back of him; in fact, the faint green light reflecting off the back of his bald head was probably one of the better things I'd see that evening. Glancing back at my parents, I expected to be faced with expressions of similar relief – the double glare I got instead caught me off guard.
"What?"
"You know what," my mother said. "I didn't think not kicking off was one of the rules that I needed to specify."
Oh. That.
"He was completely out of line."
"It doesn't matter," she hissed impatiently. "We're already treading on thin ice. Do you want to go making things even worse?"
"Fine," I shot back. "Next time, I'll shut up. Happy?"
"Of course I'm not happy," she said, lowering her voice so only I could hear. "I don't want to be here any more than you do, Astrid, but at least make this as pain-free as possible."
I hated the seething look written all over her face, and her narrowed eyes didn't get any less accusing as we followed my father deeper into the room. As much as I hated to admit it, my mother was right: things were easier when I kept my head down, saying as little as I could get away with. The room was full of people exactly like Dr Rizzuto, which became clear somewhere around the fourth person that stopped us for conversation. Their suits were all pressed to perfection, champagne glasses in one hand, smooth-talking with the same kind of tone that made it increasingly harder to keep my opinions inside.
The room was stifling. A string quartet stationed in the corner played a gentle background track, but every note was overpowered by voices: loud, commanding and all battling to be the most important. Every person that approached wanted the same thing: a false conversation about how wonderful BioNeutral was, an even faker interest in my mother and I. It was hard to stomach. Each new pair of eyes on me was just another spotlight for scrutiny, pushing up the chances of them figuring it out. I was a deer caught headlights – except for hours straight, locked in a stand-off with neither of us daring to make the first move.
Two hours in, it got too much to bear. Despite my mother's protests, I detached myself from them, wobbling in heels as I crossed the room to get some air. I had no idea was going, but I moved toward the back of the room, hoping it was the right direction.
A back door took me into a quieter hallway, and following it down came with a temperature drop. I had to be approaching the outside; the chill in the air had that unmistakable January feel. I could've cried in relief when I rounded the corner and found myself at the exit, which gave way to a garden square with a huge fountain centrepiece. The gentle mist hit me from yards away, pleasantly cooling, and I moved closer.
How much longer was I expected to do this? The entire event was torture, and I couldn't see how staying home would've done us any more harm. The more hours I spent inside the biggest government building in New London, the more attention I was drawing to myself.
Despite what my parents said, there was no way that could be a good thing.
About thirty minutes ago, a dramatic speech had interrupted one of their conversations. The string quartet had dropped, and all of a sudden, Max Snowdon was standing there, like a magician materialising for the main act. The first thing I noticed about him was that his hair was a lot greyer than it looked on TV.
His speech had been tedious, a long spiel of everything I could've predicted myself. A load of rubbish about BioNeutral being the foundations of the country's future, the moral stance of the city – the standard drivel that anybody with a government badge was happy to lap up. The only thing that caught my attention was the tall figure behind him, the same one that had caught my eye last week from behind a screen.
I wasn't sure why I thought Jace Snowdon wouldn't be there, but seeing him a few yards away came as a surprise all the same. His suit was pressed so pristinely it seemed like he couldn't move for fear of wrinkles, and the stern look behind those thick glasses stared straight ahead. Maybe venturing anywhere else was a sign of weakness.
I leaned back against the fountain, feeling the cold stone dig into the small of my back. The black lace dress my mother had forced on me was hardly weather-appropriate, but the rush of cold seemed necessary, especially when the stifling heat of the event space made the whole thing seem like a hazy dream.
Cold was good. Cold was confirmation I was actually here, and not running the risk of exposure with my every word.
I was so deep into my own thoughts that the presence behind me didn't even register. The noise of running water into the fountain was drowning out everything else. Then, all of a sudden, I got the inexplicable urge to turn around.
So I did.
And I almost jumped three feet into the air.
"Oh my God!" I said, realising only once the words were out that I'd spoken too loud. There didn't seem to be anybody else around, but I clapped a hand over my mouth anyway. "Shit."
"Sorry." Standing before me was Jace Snowdon, the real-life version of the image that had transfixed me onscreen. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Well, you're going the wrong way about it, creeping up on me like that." My hands gripped the curved edge of the fountain a little tighter. "I think I almost had a heart attack."
He didn't seem to quite know how to react; instead, he just stood there, like I was supposed to take control of the conversation. Like there even should have been one in the first place. Just being here was a mistake. The boy standing in front of me was quite literally the enemy, the polar opposite of everything I happened to be. Sticking around for a second longer than necessary should not have featured anywhere on my agenda.
But I couldn't move.
"What are you doing here?" I asked instead, realising too late that it sounded accusing. "I mean, I thought you were supposed to be inside. This is kind of your party, after all."
Tone it down, Astrid. I was being too obvious, too cynical, and yet drawing the contempt out of my voice was harder than it should've been.
For a moment, he just looked at me strangely, like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Suddenly, I became conscious of everything: the striking shade of my eyes, the dress I was now itching to pull further down, the shoes that were rubbing my feet red raw. How much was he noticing, and exactly how much of it was a giveaway?
Then, as I was seconds away from a desperate escape, he spoke. "I just needed some air. I didn't think anybody else would be out here."
"Oh." My voice was barely audible over the splashing of the fountain. "Me too, I guess."
"Who are you?" he asked, before cringing at the choice of phrasing. "Sorry. I mean that in the least accusing way. It's a genuine question."
Part of me hesitated, wondering it was smart to answer – but then I figured he could hardly send me to prison with a name. "Astrid," I said eventually. "Astrid Oxford."
"Oxford..." He seemed to be racking his brain, like the name was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "Oxford... as in Environmental?"
More information, and he'd managed to extract it from two words. Maybe I did have to watch myself. "Yeah," I said, wondering if I was falling into some sort of trap just by agreeing. "That's my dad."
"Right. I'm—"
"Jace."
He looked kind of surprised, which was odd in itself. "You know?"
"I mean, it's kind of difficult not to," I said. "Your face has been plastered all over the TV for the last week."
"Oh." It seemed like he'd forgotten this glaringly obvious fact. "Right. Yeah."
"You're the poster boy for BioNeutral," I continued, not leaving myself enough time to really consider what I was saying. "Which is why I really think you should be inside."
When he looked at me, the scrutiny was back, and I cursed myself for allowing the conversation to get this far. Everything about the encounter was wrong, and probably the most dangerous thing I could do this evening – but even knowing this wasn't enough to stop me from talking.
"I can make out I went to the restroom," he said slowly, keeping his eyes trained on me. "Why? Should I be worried you're going to snitch, or something?"
He was only half-serious, and the toying inflection was what let the small smile creep onto my face. "No," I said eventually, "it's fine. Your secret's safe with me."
"Good to know, Astrid." He drew my name out a little longer than necessary, almost like he was testing it out. Then, he paused, considering whether to voice his next thought. "Can I ask you something?"
"I have a feeling you're going to anyway."
"Well. Those speeches you saw me make on TV." He stopped again. "How were they really? Like, how did I come across? Only I've not really asked anybody yet, and I'm not sure they would tell me it was terrible."
I couldn't believe he was asking. Was this a genuine question? Didn't he already know that every word out of his mouth had been effortless, and hundreds of people had been hanging from each one? I assumed that kind of effect was obvious, but maybe not so much.
He seemed to mistake my incredulity for something else. "Okay, I take that back. Maybe I don't want to know."
"You've got to be joking." This brought his gaze right back up to me, and his eyes met mine from behind those thick glasses. "You had everyone entirely convinced. It was seamless. I don't know why you're worrying."
"Oh." He paused. "That's good, I guess."
But his face didn't match his words, and as he continued to look at me, there seemed to be something strange in the freezing air between us. "What?" I asked eventually. "That was supposed to be reassuring."
"I know," he said slowly. "I just... Well. I'm getting the impression that maybe you weren't convinced."
It caught me off guard, and I blinked, feeling the pace of my heart quicken slightly. "I don't know what you mean."
"I could be wrong," he said. "It was just an observation."
I didn't know what I was supposed to say to that, but as it turned out, an answer wasn't required. All of a sudden, the noise of the party grew clearer, and the door leading back into the building was thrown open. We both looked over in surprise, and my heart plummeted to the bottom of my stomach when I noticed my mother standing there.
"Astrid," she said, in a tone I had more sense than to argue with. Just looking at Jace seemed to force a false calm to wash over her. "What are you doing out here? Your father and I were getting worried."
I swallowed. "I was just getting some air."
"Well, I think you've got enough." This was my unmistakable cue to step toward her. "Come on. Your father's talking to Dr Watson, and she's dying to meet you."
She directed a brief nod toward Jace, but even from some distance I could see it was a shaky movement. Apparently, she wasn't willing to risk saying anything directly, which was probably more sensible than anything I'd done in the last ten minutes. As she gripped my arm to pull me back into the building, there was only time for one brief glance over my shoulder.
Half a second wasn't enough to figure out Jace's expression.
But, then again, neither was all the time in the world.
------------------------------
Hope you enjoyed! Jace has finally made more of an appearance than his face on a TV screen. Don't forget to let me know what you thought. And thank you for all the banners that I have received in the last week - I am now sorted for images for at least the next 10 chapters haha! You guys really deliver.
- Leigh