Gabe eyed him. “How do you know that?”
“My grandfather worked for a defense contractor before he retired last year. He tried to get me in for an internship and they said no. We went through his whole list of contacts, but nobody would hire me. He said it’s the last legal line of discrimination.”
“Your grandfather is right,” Gabe said. “How do they get away with it? ‘Most qualified applicant’ my eye.”
Once he got onto this topic, there was no stopping him. Sophie was usually right there with him. This time she let him rant on his own. She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to have a useful suggestion ready. How could she capitalize on David’s position? She’d have to think about it. This was not an opportunity to be squandered.
They’d never gotten this close to Balkenhol before. Imagine what they could learn, given the right access; she’d have to start with making amends with David. Maybe she could lull him into forgetting she had a cause? Fat chance. At least maybe he’d be too preoccupied with the new job to notice her fishing for information. It was worth a shot, in any case. She ran her burnt tongue over her teeth, thinking.
• • •
On David’s first day of work, Sophie made sure to be waiting in the front room for him when he got home. She had a tablet in front of her, open to the anti-Pilot boards. It was work that needed to be done, whether or not she was setting a trap for her brother; meetings needed advertising, and the letter-writing campaign still needed more letters. She answered some messages, posted a template, hooked it to the local captains to spread.
When the door opened at six thirty, it took her by surprise. So much for her trap.
“Hey,” he said without looking in Sophie’s direction.
The old David would have kicked his shoes into the corner behind the door, but this one sat on the bottom stair to unlace his shoes and remove them. He placed them neatly beside the coatrack, in line to the millimeter, then headed for the kitchen.
Sophie locked her tablet and tossed it on the couch. She closed her eyes and listened. The fridge opened and closed, followed by the snap and hiss of a beer can. She counted a full minute before joining him.
When she came around the corner, David was already looking in her direction. Sometimes that was eerie. She remembered trying to sneak up on him when he’d first gotten his Pilot. It hadn’t worked then, and it certainly wouldn’t work now that he was so well trained.
“Do you want one?” he asked, indicating the beer.
“I’m nineteen, dummy,” she said.
“So?”
“So, my seizures are mostly under control these days, and I like to keep them that way. It’s not like I’ve never had a drink. I just don’t want one.”
He looked chastened, as if he’d forgotten about her seizures entirely. Good. One point for her. She pulled out the chair opposite his and reversed it so she could lean over the back.
David tipped his head and drained the entire beer. He tossed the can, and it made a perfect arc into the recycling bin. A few drops sprayed out as it went, but he acted like he didn’t notice. Sophie knew that was an act; he noticed everything. He opened the fridge, grabbed another can, and turned his chair to mimic hers.
“How was your day?” she asked.
He shrugged. “First day. All paperwork, then more paperwork.”
“As much as the Army?”
That one got a smile. “You remember me saying that, huh? Yeah, I guess today could give Army bureaucracy a run for its money. At least I think it’s temporary in this case.”
“Did they give you a badge? Are you official BNL?”
David reached in his shirt pocket and flashed an ID card at Sophie. “Official. Now people won’t stop me every two seconds to figure out if I belong there. That was a pain all morning ’til they hooked me up.”
Sophie mentally filed that information. She tried to get a look at the badge and whether it had a bar code or a chip alongside David’s face, but it was back in his pocket before she could gather any further details.
CHAPTER FORTY
SOPHIE
In the end, Sophie couldn’t believe how easy it was to get hold of David’s ID badge. Saturday morning, she brought her dirty clothes to the basement, and there it was, clipped to a shirt at the top of his laundry basket. Saturday was her laundry day, but it used to be his, so she could understand why he hadn’t started the load yet. He thought he had all day.
“David?” she called.
Julie’s voice carried down the stairs. “He just left for a run.”
Maybe that was another reason he hadn’t bothered to start the laundry yet. He’d have more dirty stuff when he returned. Before she could lose her nerve, she slipped the badge into her hoodie’s pouch. Then she checked the directions on his shirt collar, emptied his basket into the washer, and moved the dials to cold wash. She didn’t want him any madder than he already would be.
She left her own basket beside the machine and pulled her phone from her pocket. She needed someone to take her to the meeting space quickly enough that she’d have a chance of being back before David. Dominic.
He seemed happy enough to hear from her, and happier when she explained she needed a favor. “Yeah! No problem! Where should I meet you?”
“Same place as last time?”
“Will do.”
Sophie shouted, “Back in a few minutes” as she slammed the door behind her, not giving the chance for either mom to question where she was going or when she’d be back.
Dominic was as fast as he’d said he would be, gliding that fancy ride into the bus stop. She ducked into the car, then stole a look back. That would be her luck, for David to spot her. No.
