She didn’t trust herself to say anything, lest Sophie misconstrue it. She was happy to be in the same room with the girl again, even if she’d never seen anybody scramble eggs with so much attitude, and the odor was making her queasy. Six broken eggshells lay strewn across the counter beside the range. Funny the signals Sophie sent: I am home, I am making breakfast for everyone of my own volition, but I refuse to enjoy it. You will see no remorse except for my effort. At least that was Julie’s best guess, and who knew if it was anywhere close to accurate.
The front door opened and closed. “Cooking again?” Val called from the front hall.
“Sophie!” She crossed the kitchen and threw her arms around the girl at the stove, who didn’t have time to ward off the hug. Julie wished she had done something similar: unabashed joy was one thing Sophie couldn’t defend against. If only she could rewind twenty minutes.
Granted, it wasn’t her fault they had started off yet another morning on the wrong foot. Sophie had gone after her, not the other way around. Still, jealousy; no, turn it off. Be grateful she still allowed Val to hug her. Enjoy it vicariously. Eat eggs and toast with her as if nothing were broken, as if none of this had ever been any way else. Don’t let her catch you missing any other iteration of her. They were all difficult. You might as well sit with this one while she allows herself to be present.
Julie arranged the toasted muffins on a plate on the kitchen table. She opened the cabinet to take out three plates, then got knives and forks from the drawer. Every movement was careful, both for her throbbing head and the fear that any word or action on her part might send Sophie running again. Sophie couldn’t object to cutlery. Sophie turned from the stove with her pan and shoveled eggs onto each plate. They all sat.
“Thanks for breakfast, Soph,” Julie tried tentatively. Sophie, mouth full, nodded at her; that was positive acknowledgement, at least.
Val spread peanut butter on her toast. “How did your meeting go?”
“Meetings,” Sophie said, emphasizing the plural. “There’s so much going on right now we’ve been having them every night. It’s the only way to keep on top of everything.”
“What’s going on right now?” Julie tried to keep the question light and innocent, as if she hadn’t spent two nights online trolling action after action.
Sophie gave her a withering look, but deigned to answer. “Congress is working with BNL to subsidize Pilots for all ninth graders below the poverty level. That’s practically making them mandatory! Can you imagine the pressure on those kids? How can anyone refuse?”
It startled Julie to hear Sophie refer to those five years her junior as kids. She was still a kid herself, as far as Julie was concerned, though she knew better than to say as much.
Val frowned. “I see how that would have your group concerned, Soph. What are you doing about it?”
As always, Julie was impressed with Val’s ability to ask questions that came across as genuine interest. Or maybe it was that Sophie assumed Val’s interest to be genuine and Julie’s suspect. Or maybe it was all in Julie’s head. Or maybe this was guilt for having snooped so much online that nothing she asked could truly be an innocent question; she knew the answers already.
“For that one we’re teaching students how to do organized walkouts. We’ve got an education campaign going aimed at the kids—that one’s going all the time, but we’re ramping it up—to let them know the risks, and let them know they can refuse. Another for teachers and administrators, and another for parents.”
“Who is ‘we,’ Soph?” Julie asked, though she knew the answer. “Is that just locally?”
“Not just local. Local chapters are handling the on-the-ground stuff, but it’s a national campaign.” She paused, then added, “I wrote one of the handouts myself, though,” with more than a touch of pride.
“Which one?” Julie asked, then panicked. Had she implied she was familiar with the materials?
“It’s aimed at students. ‘Sometimes a Free Update Isn’t Free.’ Ads on all the social networks, and we have somebody who hacks into school computer systems to distribute mass e-mails through a fake student account. Then paper copies at the schools and in the neighborhoods.”
A quick frown passed over Julie’s face. She tried to disguise it, but it was too late.
Sophie glared at her. “What’s the matter? Oh. You didn’t like the hacking bit? Too illegal for you? You don’t have to worry, Mother. I did not personally hack anything. I don’t know how to do that. You can go another night without having to worry about bailing me out of federal prison and save your concern for Central Booking downtown. I’m not doing anything Fed-worthy.”
That had been exactly Julie’s concern. She hadn’t read anything about systems hacking, and she thought she was privy to most of what went on in the local chapter. There must be other places where the leaders gathered that she wasn’t welcome. That made sense; at least they were smart enough not to broadcast the illegal parts of their actions.
Sophie was still talking, and Julie’s Pilot had allowed her to track both the conversation and her own diverging train of thought. Not that she needed much attention to follow Sophie as she worked up a head of steam on the protection thing again.
“. . . I can’t believe you’re more concerned for my safety than you are for the thousands of kids who are about to get Pilots forced on them before they know the ramifications, or that they have a choice. If their parents and schools won’t protect him, it’s on us to inform them.” Her spiky hair bobbed and weaved as she spoke, like
