Portrait of a Donor: A Starters Story
Author: Lissa Price
Date: 2013-12-10 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult; Science Fiction; Dystopia; Novella; Short Stories; Teen; Futuristic; Fantasy
Description: A digital-only short story set in the STARTERS world, told from Briona's pov. STARTERS received rave reviews, including this from the Los Angeles Times: “The only thing better than a terrific concept is one that is as well executed as Starters. Readers who have been waiting for a worthy successor to Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games will find it here. Dystopian sci-fi at its best, Starters is a terrific series kickoff with a didn't-see-that-coming conclusion that will leave readers on the edges of their seats . . .” Includes a sneak peek at the sequel to STARTERS, Lissa Price’s ENDERS, where C
Publisher: Delacorte Press
Rights: Copyright © 2013 by Lissa Price

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2014 by Lissa Price
Design by Christian Fuenfhausen

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.

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ISBN 978-0-307-97853-0 (ebook)

First Delacorte Press Ebook Edition 2014

Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

v3.1

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Portrait of a Donor: A Starters Story

Enders Excerpt

About the Author

Want More Starters?

Portrait of a Donor

A Starters Story

I hate marshals, with their ZipTasers and guns, but I have no choice other than to sit and face one. This one looks like he’s about 100, maybe 150. His white hair is trimmed short, and like most marshals, he’s muscular. I perch on a chair on the other side of a fancy white desk in Doris’s office at Prime Destinations. She’s never going to use it again. As of tonight, the body rental business is over.

Is that a good thing? I’m not sure. But it’s not up to me. I’m just a Starter and one of their many body donors, now out of a job.

The marshal focuses on his airscreen, finishing up notes from the last donor interviewee. I’m wearing a short silvery-green illusion dress—Doris’s choice, not mine—and I’m freezing my butt off. It’s all about looks, everything sexy and shiny. My long black hair has been perfectly straightened, but my makeup—heavier than I would choose—has to be smudged by now. It’s past ten p.m. and I’m exhausted. I just want to get out of this chaos. Everyone who ever had business with the body bank seems to be here tonight, the night Prime was taken down.

I turn to my left and see the next Starter to be questioned. He waits nervously, bumping the doorjamb with his shoe. He’s an East Indian guy, with smoky, smoldering eyes almost too pretty to belong to a boy. We look at each other, and for a second, the fear disappears from his face and he gives me a half smile.

“State your name and age.” The marshal’s stern voice makes my muscles tense.

Marshals. I just want to get out of here. If I could run away, I would, but they’re crawling all over the place. They hate all Starters but especially some of us who aren’t perfectly chalk white. I read the shift in their eyes as soon as they see the color of my skin. I call it “the black eye.”

“Briona Johnson. Sixteen.”

“And you were an employee of Prime Destinations?”

“No,” I say. “Just a donor.”

He’s trying to trick me. Catch me admitting I was working for them so he can lock me up.

He squints. “But you were paid, weren’t you?”

“No. They were going to give me a stipend for volunteering my body.” I smile and make an effort not to appear smug.

“So you were paid,” he says without any fear of looking smug.

“Do you see any money in my hand?” I spread my palms. “You’re shutting them down now. Who’s going to pay me my hard-earned cash? My … stipend.”

He leans forward. “You were sleeping, girlie. Sure wish I could get paid to sleep.”

If only he knew about the memories I have to relive every day. Memories of what my renter did in my body. Secrets. Lies. Guns.

But I’m not about to tell him that. They’ve already got Doris in cuffs—she’s the PD employee who took over my body. I don’t want to give them any excuse to lock me up too.

They always find a way to blame the Starter.

I hear a noise outside the office. I turn and see Smoky Eyes still waiting, his arms folded. He looks away, pretending he’s not listening. Past him, there’s the source of the noise. Ender renters shuffle past the door as they’re escorted down the hallway. Will the marshals arrest them? Doubt it. They weren’t working for PD, just using their services. Besides, they’re old and rich. It’s always the Starters like me who suffer.

“Do you have a legal guardian?” The marshal taps his airscreen and then stares at me.

“Yes. My grandma.”

I make a point of returning his stare. It makes the lie more convincing.

“What is her address?” he asks.

I hesitate. I haven’t had to answer that for several months. I used to have a false address memorized, but now my mind goes blank. What can I say?

Something draws the marshal’s attention. A second, thinner marshal stands in the doorway.

“We’ve got to move this line,” the thin marshal says, “or we’ll be here until Christmas.”

“All right.” My marshal taps his airscreen again. “You’re dismissed.” He waves a small metal tube over my inner wrist and it microsprays the letter “M” in black. Branded. “It’ll wash off in a day. If we need you, we know where to find you.”

I leave as fast as I can without running. If you run, they ZipTaser you. It’s instinct with them.

Smoky Eyes straightens. I tell myself I’m not going to look at him. But I walk past and of course look right into those eyes. He stares back as if he’d like to say something but not now. Not with marshals waiting.

“Next,” the seated marshal says.

Smoky Eyes doesn’t move. It could be fear of the marshal, but I like to think he can’t tear himself away from my gorgeous self.

“Now!” the marshal shouts.

Smoky rolls his eyes in a goodbye gesture and goes in. The Starter behind him, an Asian guy, moves forward. He looks like he recognizes me, but I don’t know him.

“Wait outside,” the Asian guy says to me. “I want to talk.”

The hall is packed with the donor Starters in line and the renter Enders moving past them. I’m caught in the shuffle and couldn’t stay if I wanted to.

“Why?” I shout back.

“I know you,” he says.

Over the heads of the Enders, I look at him as I’m forced to keep walking. He’s hot. All donors are. Still, if I knew him, I think I’d remember. I’m ready to dismiss him as a flirt when a memory flashes through my mind.

He stares at me. We’re in a club. I’m sitting in a deep-cushioned chair in this classy place—around a caffeine table. He is sitting across from me. And next to us is Smoky Eyes. He calls the Asian guy Lee, and Lee calls him Raj.

They’re talking about secrets and lies. How we have to act casual, not slip up, so the girl doesn’t guess who we really are. What girl?

Then I follow Lee’s stare and see a Starter moving closer to sit in the last chair. She wears a shimmery dress; she’s obviously another donor, by her perfect skin and long, glossy hair. There must be an Ender renter inside, but she doesn’t act like other renters. She’s nervous, cautious. She says to call her Callie. The two guys put on big smiles for her benefit. I do the same. I feel an overwhelming sense of deception. I drum my fingers and then I get it. I know who had that habit—Doris. I’m Doris wearing my body.

I blink and come out of the memory. The crowd of Enders has pushed me down to the end of the hallway, far out of sight of Lee. We spill out to the lobby, which is filled with more people—donors, renters, marshals.

Doris is still where she was when I saw her right before the marshal’s interview: leaning against a wall, her arms cuffed behind her. I look around and see other Prime employees: Tinnenbaum, the front man, and Rodney, the driver and bodyguard. They’re also cuffed and pouting.

And then I see her. The donor girl from my memory: Callie. She’s talking to an Ender in a suit, probably a detective. She sees me staring. Her expression goes through a rainbow of changes. At first she recognizes me and looks angry. Then she shakes it off, as if she was wrong. Or calming herself; I can’t tell. Should I try to talk to her? No, she’s returned her attention to the detective.

I stand in the middle of the lobby, completely confused. Why am I getting these memories? They’re not really mine. I was asleep at the body bank when Doris was using my body. No one explained to me that she was my renter; I figured it out from the flashbacks. But they come in pieces, flashes, without reason.

I need to get out of here. I head for the door.

Instead of Prime’s doorman, a marshal stands by the exit.

“Have you been questioned?” he asks me.

I hold up my arm and show him the “M” brand on my wrist. He nods and unlocks the door so I can finally leave this disgusting place.

I step into the cold night air and am hit with the sight of several marshal cars parked out front. My heart beats faster. I fear the sight of a marshal’s car will have that effect on me for the rest of my life,. But the cars are all empty: everyone is inside the body bank.

It’s late, the streets deserted. If any Starters were around, these marshal cars would make them disappear fast. All the shops are closed, but a few restaurants are still open.

Lee told me to wait. His words echo in my head. I know you.

A small café across the street still has its lights on.

I jaywalk over there. Out of the corner of my eye I sense a man watching me. I turn to check. He’s a tall Ender, muscular, with a tattoo on the side of his neck. An animal? It’s the head of a leopard. Everything about him screams “predator”—the tattoo, his defiant stance, his long white hair like a mane.

I hurry to the café. When I reach the door, it’s locked. I bang on the glass, but the lone Ender inside wears earphones as she wipes the counter.

I hear footsteps behind me. I turn, prepared to fight. The leopard man stands about ten feet away. He pauses, staring at me, sizing up his prey. Someone shouts behind him.

It’s Smoky Eyes. Raj.

“Leave her alone!” Raj shouts. “Get out of here!”

The Ender backs away, looks from Raj to me. His lips form a half smirk. He seems to be calculating whether he can take us both on. I plant my feet firmly and clench my fists.

“We’re young, we’re fast, and there’s two of us,” I say.

Raj slips his hands into his coat pockets. He points one of the pockets at the Ender, as if he has a gun.

Tattoo Man raises his hands partway in surrender. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving.”

He has a slight accent, but I can’t tell what it is.

“Maybe next time,” Tattoo Man says.

Not if I can help it. Raj and I watch him walk away.

“You don’t have a gun,” I say to Raj under my breath.

“No. Just a finger that wants to be.”

I see sweat beading on his forehead. He jokes, but he was scared too. Across the street, light bounces off the tall, shiny doors of Prime Destinations as they open. I stare at the “PD” design on the doors and feel my heart beat. I thought that place would save me, but it was a nasty joke. They owned me. I’m walking away tonight, but am I really free?

Lee comes out of the building and looks around until he sees us.

Raj knew of a rooftop bar that wouldn’t card us. So I’m sitting here with him and Lee around a fire pit, sipping sparkling water. Déjà vu of that night at the club. Turns out Raj has cash. He didn’t do the body bank for the pay; he did it for the nose job.

“My grandparents wouldn’t let me have the surgery,” Raj says. “They could easily afford it, but they’re just so old-fashioned.”

“I’m sure mine wouldn’t either,” Lee says. “But they’re dead. Wouldn’t get the vaccine.”

“Why not?” Raj asks.

“Because they were scared,” I say.

“Yours too?” Lee asks.

I nod. My grandma was sure the shot would kill her. She didn’t trust the government. Who could blame her?

I wonder if Raj has a home. I wonder where I’ll sleep tonight.

“So you said you remembered me,” I say to Lee.

He looks down. “I get these memories.”

“We all do,” Raj says. “What do you remember?”

“Scary things. Weird things. I don’t understand.” Lee puts his head in his hands for a moment. “I remember …” He lifts his head. “… this long, long fall in the sky. I see the ground below me coming closer and closer. Then, just as I’m going to hit it, I stop.”

That sounds familiar, his body falling. I think I saw it.

“Yeah. You did that,” Raj says. “And get this: you did it for fun.”

“Really? No way,” Lee says.

“You’re lucky that body still has two arms and legs,” Raj says, pointing at Lee. We piece together our memories, each of us offering bits of the puzzle until we make a whole picture. We get to the conspiracy part.

“So you were Doris,” Lee said, pointing at me. “And you were …”

“Rodney,” Raj says.

“Who’s Rodney?” Lee asks.

“He drove for Prime. And was their bodyguard,” I say. “And you were Tinnenbaum,” I say, looking at Lee.

“Yeah, that’s the worst,” Lee says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“He was involved in some messy stuff.” Lee shakes his head. “Something really bad.”

“What?” Raj asks.

Lee rubs his arms a moment, then becomes still. “I remember I ordered someone at Prime to kill one of the renters.”

Raj and I stare at Lee. He swallows so hard I see his Adam’s apple move.

“Which one?” Raj asks.

“Don’t know.” Lee looks at us with haunted eyes.

“It wasn’t you,” I reach out to touch him. To quiet him.

The look on his face … I can tell that he knows that, but he doesn’t really know it. His eyes tear up.

“Yeah,” he says. “But I remember it. And it was my body.”

“So these three Prime Enders—Doris, Rodney, and Tinnenbaum—used our bodies to spy on donors?” Raj asks.

“Not all donors,” I say. “One.”

“I remember her,” Lee says. “Said her name was Callie.”

“We did things with her,” I said, remembering. “Drove around …”

“We ran with her, out of the Music Center,” Raj says.

“We chased her,” Lee says.

“She got away.”

“She’s okay,” I say. “I saw her at Prime just now.”

“It’s getting late.” Raj pays the bill. “Guess I should go home.”

So he has a home. I turn to Lee. “Have you got a place to go?”

He shrugs. “I gave up one of the best squats ever. Thought I was gonna sail out of Prime a rich Starter.”

“Me too,” I say.

Joke was on us. I risked my life for a big payout that would have meant my survival. And then … I get zip.

“So you guys have nowhere to go?” Raj asks.

Not only do we have nowhere to go, we have no money. We shake our heads. I hold my breath to see what he says next.

Raj gets a cab and takes us to his home in Westwood. I’m relieved not to have to find someplace to squat at this late hour. I don’t think I could face another cold office building after all we’ve been through tonight. I was hoping Raj’s place would be low-key, but I swallow hard when I see the neighborhood and size of the houses. Raj’s is not just the largest on the street, it’s a real megamansion.

“What about your grandparents?” I ask as he pays the cabdriver.

“I’ll sneak you in the back,” he says.

Lee and I wait for Raj to get out of the cab. I tower over Lee, especially with the killer heels Doris picked out. We both look up at Raj’s mansion. It’s two stories, surrounded by a tall, ornate iron fence. Suddenly I’m small and unimportant. I don’t belong here. A shiver goes through me and I blame it on the night air.

Raj gets out and unlocks a side gate. He walks us to the back of the house and then stops by the rear entrance.

“Wait here,” he whispers.

Lee and I stand there, by a fenced-in swimming pool and a pool house.

“You smell that?” I whisper to Lee.

He sniffs. “No. What?”

“Money,” I say.

Lee smiles. My family was always just squeaking by. My mother’s teaching degree was worthless when she moved to California after she married my father. After they divorced, he never paid a penny of child support. My mom and I were left to fend for ourselves. Money was always on our minds. Everything we bought was generic. People like Raj never have to choose between a brand name and a plain white box.

The back door opens and Raj motions for us to enter. Lee extends his hand in a ladies-first gesture. I roll my eyes and go inside.

Raj whispers to us as he leads us down the back hallway. “My grandparents are out.”

“Then why are you whispering?” I ask.

“Because. The servants are sleeping.”

So colonial, this boy.

He takes us to one of the first doors, which opens up to a humongous media room Burgundy velvet theater seats circle the room, facing the center. Spotlights supply the only light, making the space dramatic.

“This is great,” Lee says in a hushed voice.

“And it’s soundproof,” Raj says. “The servants aren’t allowed in here, so it’s all yours.”

He opens the cabinets above and below a counter near a sink. There’s every kind of snack food I could imagine—popcorn, candy, chips, cookies. The refrigerator is stocked with drinks and the freezer with ice cream, air yogurt and frozen bananas. On the counter are an espresso maker and a smoothie blender.

Raj sits in one of the chairs and makes it recline. “To sleep, just press here.”

I notice a bathroom off to the side.

“Want a shower? There’re towels in there,” Raj says. “Even a Jacuzzi.”

Raj grabs blankets from another cabinet and tosses them at us. “Need anything else?”

Lee and I look at each other and then shake our heads. “There isn’t anything else,” Lee says.

“Just be sure to stay in the room, okay? Don’t leave it. I’ll come see you guys in the morning.” He glances at a clock projected on the wall. It’s almost two a.m. “Well, maybe late morning.”

He slips out the door. I run my hand across the top of the closest chair. So plush.

“What do we do first?” I go over to the food counter. “Popcorn? Ice cream sundaes?”

Lee doesn’t answer. I turn back and see him lying in a chair, fully reclined, with no blanket. Looks like he fell asleep as soon as he sat back. I pick the nearest chair, kick off my heels, and prepare to do the same.

In the morning, someone calls my name over and over. I open my eyes and see Raj’s handsome face looking down on me. Smiling. It makes me smile back.

“Sleepyhead. Time to wake up,” he says.

He presses the button that turns my bed back into a chair. I notice he’s wearing a jacket, like he’s going out.

“Where’s Lee?” I ask.

“Taking a shower. I brought you both some fresh clothes.” He points out two bundles of clothing on one of the chairs. “Listen, I have to go somewhere, but I’ll be back soon.”

I almost ask him where he’s going. But I remember he’s doing us a big favor by letting us crash here, and I decide not to be nosy.

“Sure,” I say. “No problem.”

He tosses his keys from hand to hand. “You guys can just hang here, play with the holo games.” He heads for the door.

“Raj?”

He stops and turns back. He looks just a little annoyed. “What?”

“I think we were too tired last night to say thanks. For all this.”

“No problem.” He smiles. “See you soon.”

As he goes, I hold up the clothes to see if they fit me. He’s picked out a cute dress and jacket. Maybe he has a sister? I put them on and they fit perfectly.

Lee comes out of the bathroom. “Pretty. Where’d you get that?”

“Santa.” I gesture to the pants and sweater on the chair. “He left those for you.”

Lee holds them up. “Cashmere. Nice. Where is he?”

“Out. Said he’d be back soon.”

Lee puts the clothes down and shakes his head.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I was thinking in the shower about our memories. And how long we were asleep at the body bank.”

“What about it?”

“Doris and Tinnenbaum—heck, even Rodney—had to be themselves sometimes. Otherwise, they couldn’t do their jobs. But we don’t remember waking up until it was over.”

“That’s right.”

“So who was occupying us the times they couldn’t be?”

Good question. None of us has any memories that didn’t belong to those three.

“Maybe someone else at Prime?” I say. “An assistant?”

“Maybe as a placeholder. Just keeping us there, inside. A babysitter.”

“A bodysitter,” I said. “Staring at the walls or reading zines.”

There are so many hours unaccounted for. What did I do? Will I ever know? What if I never remember all of it?

“It could drive you crazy,” I said. “Trying to figure out everything you did.”

“I’m already there.”

I pick up the media controls and start a game. It’s a walk-through environmental game of ancient Egypt, displayed in the middle of the room, in the round stage space that all the chairs face.

Lee slips into the bathroom to change while I climb inside a pyramid. He comes out sporting his new clothes and stands near one of the chairs.

“Now who’s pretty?” I ask.

He stares off, deep in thought.

“You’re still thinking about what happened?” I ask.

“It isn’t what happened that’s so scary,” he says. “It’s what could happen now. We still have these chips in our heads. How do we know no one’s going to use them?”

“The body bank is over.”

“You think the Old Man never made a backup plan?”

That thought hits me like a punch to the gut by some unfriendlie. I play the game in silence, exploring deeper inside the pyramid. Lee goes to the food and comes back with a huge bowl of assorted candy. Eventually, he joins me in the game as we hunt for a golden cat statue.

After a while, the door opens. We freeze until we see it’s Raj.

“Came back to save you,” Raj says.

“What’s that mean?” Lee asks as he pops a gummy alien in his mouth.

Raj gently removes the candy bowl from Lee’s hand and sets it down. “This will rot your teeth. I’m taking you out.”

I sit in Raj’s super-fancy sports car. I’m beside Raj, close enough to notice his sweet smell. Sort of like almonds. It’s nice to be with clean people instead of dirty squatters, like I used to be. I press a button and a makeup mirror slides from a ceiling panel. I check my face and see Lee’s reflection behind it. He’s in the backseat with a scowl on his face. I know that look. He’s jealous of everything Raj has. This car, his house, all his money. It’s hard not to be, when Raj has so much.

How long will he let us stay? No one wants to ask, and maybe he doesn’t know the answer. Maybe his grandparents will return and we’ll be kicked out.

I press the button again and the mirror disappears. Raj looks over and smiles. Would he ever go for a girl like me?

Maybe. But not for long, probably. I’m sure his Indian parents would have a fit once they saw that my skin is darker than theirs.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

Raj pulls into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant that doesn’t look like a breakfast place. There are few cars.

Inside, the place is empty. No customers, no waiters, no music.

“It’s early,” Raj says, looking at his watch.

It is only eleven a.m. The restaurant looks expensive, with large stone tiles on the floor. Maybe they’re imitation. Holo grapes masquerade as the real thing, hanging from the latticed ceiling.

“Follow me,” Raj says as he walks through the room.

We hesitate. “I don’t think they’re open,” I say.

“It’s okay.” He motions for us to follow. “I know the owner.”

My heels echo on the floor as he leads us to a cozy private room with oak paneling and a wine rack. One large table fills the space.

“Sit,” Raj says.

He hands us large cloth-covered menus. I notice lunch isn’t even listed, just dinner. Lee shifts in his chair. Raj has his head buried in the menu.

Three Enders in suits come into our room. They’re not smiling. And they close the door behind them. The mood in the room immediately turns sour. My heart races. This isn’t right.

Raj’s expression changes so fast, it’s like that game where you wave your hand over your smiling face and reveal a frown. He was a different person now. All business.

One of the Enders, a short, stocky man points at me. “I thought she was going to be blond.”

“I never said that,” Raj says, standing.

Lee and I also rise. I try to push my chair back to escape, but one Ender holds it in place with heavy hands. Another Ender stands behind Lee’s chair.

Raj comes to my side. To help me?

“She’s beautiful.” Raj pulls my jacket down, stopping at the wrists. “Feel how smooth that skin is.”

I want to die.

The short Ender comes over and gingerly raises his hand toward my bare arm. I’m stuck there, with my jacket around my wrists.

“Touch me and I’ll kill you,” I say.

His eyes widen. He withdraws his hand and steps away. I pull my jacket back on. He whispers something to Raj.

Lee and I look at each other.

“What’s that smell?” he asks me.

“Money,” I say. Raj sold us out.

“No,” Lee says. “It’s the stink of betrayal.”

He jams his elbow into the neck of the Ender behind him. He then climbs up the back of his chair as it falls backward onto the Ender clutching his throat in pain.

I push my chair into the Ender behind me, but he reaches out and pins my arms back. Raj and the bald Ender grab Lee while the first Ender shakes off the neck jab.

Lee tried, but we’re outnumbered. The Enders cuff us.

“Sorry, guys, nothing personal,” Raj says. He looks at me. “Another time, another place, it might have been different.”

“You lied to us,” I say. “Pretended to help us, when all along you were planning on selling us like slaves.”

“You don’t need the money,” Lee says. “You’re filthy rich.”

“My grandparents are rich, not me.” Raj turns to the tall Ender. “They’re all yours.”

“You won’t want me,” I say as I struggle against the Ender, my hair whipping around. “No one will want my body. I’ll cut my face. I’ll do anything to make myself unrentable.”

The short Ender smiles as he grips my chin with one hand and strokes my cheek with the other. “We’ll make sure to protect you from yourself.”

The Enders pull us toward the door.

“Wait,” Raj says. “No one’s paid me yet. I delivered you two donors.”

The first Ender slaps cuffs on Raj. “You mean three donors.”

“No! That wasn’t our deal!” Raj shouts.

I look at Raj and almost smile. But the impulse fades fast as I realize that I’m trapped now, forever. I didn’t even get one complete day of freedom.

The next day in a mansion overlooking the ocean

I can’t stop looking at this new face of mine—Briona’s face. It is positively exquisite.

I cross these long, athletic legs and lean forward to look in the mirror. Even when I was a little girl, my skin was never this beautiful. Cheekbones impossibly high. Lips full and proud, as if swollen from kissing.

Who I was, just another old Ender, doesn’t matter. I’m Briona now. I look at her face—my face—in the mirror. These liquid eyes. This ebony skin, with a special luster to it. I run my hand over my cheek and then down my neck, my shoulder, my arm, all the way to the back of my hand. So smooth. So young. And worth every penny.

TRUST NO ONE.

If you enjoyed this special STARTERS story, look for Lissa Price’s novel ENDERS. Callie is ready to fight for the truth—even if it kills her.

Here’s a sneak peek.

Excerpt copyright © 2014 by Lissa Price. Published by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

CHAPTER ONE

My hand went to the back of my head and I swore I could feel the chip underneath my skin. But I couldn’t, of course; it was buried deeply under the metal blocking plate. It was just the surrounding scar tissue I felt, hard and unforgiving.

I tried not to touch it. But it had become an obsession to finger it like a splinter in a palm, or a hangnail on a thumb. It haunted me all the time, even here, making sandwiches in the kitchen. Helena’s kitchen.

Even though she was dead and had left the mansion to me, I couldn’t help but be reminded daily that it had been hers. Every choice, from the sea-green tiles to the elaborate island in the center of this gourmet kitchen, was hers. Even her housekeeper, Eugenia, remained.

Yes, it had been Helena’s crazy plan to stop the Old Man by using my body to assassinate Senator Harrison. But it was my fault that I had volunteered to be a body donor in the first place. I had been desperate to save my little brother, Tyler, then. Now I couldn’t take it back, any more than I could get rid of this horrible chip stuck in my head. I hated the thing. It was like a phone the Old Man could call anytime, a phone I had to answer and could never disconnect. It was the Old Man’s direct line to me, Callie Woodland.

The last time I had heard from him was two days ago, while I was watching his precious Prime Destinations being demolished. He had sounded like my dead father, even used his code words: When hawks cry, time to fly. I’d been thinking about that ever since. But as I stood at the kitchen counter spreading the last of the peanut butter on whole wheat, I decided that it had been the Old Man playing tricks on me. Cruel, but no surprise coming from that monster.

“Finished?” Eugenia asked.

Her crackly Ender voice cut through me. I hadn’t heard her come in. How long had she been watching? I turned to meet the scowl on her wrinkled face. If this was my fairy-tale life, living in this castle, she would be the ugly stepmother.

“That’s enough. You’re emptying my entire pantry,” she said.

That wasn’t true. I’d made several dozen sandwiches, but our pantry could feed us for a month. I placed the last one in the insta-wrap machine, and the thin veg-wrap encased the bread instantly with a high-pitched zip.

“Done.” I tossed the sandwiches into a duffel bag.

Eugenia didn’t even wait for me to leave before she began wiping the counter. I’d obviously ruined her day.

“We can’t feed the whole world,” she said, scrubbing invisible stains.

“Course not.” I closed the duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. “Just a few hungry Starters.”

As I put the bag in the trunk of the blue sports car, I couldn’t get Eugenia’s disapproving glare out of my mind. You’d think maybe she’d be nicer, knowing my mother and father were dead. But somehow she resented me for Helena’s death. It wasn’t my fault. In fact, Helena had almost gotten me killed. I slammed the trunk. Eugenia only stayed because she adored Tyler. That was okay; I didn’t have to answer to her. She wasn’t my guardian.

My hand went to the back of my head, and I absentmindedly scratched at my chip wound before I caught myself and stopped. When I looked at my fingers, my nails were dirty with blood. I winced.

I pulled a tissue out of my purse and wiped them as best I could. Then I walked out the door of the garage that led to the garden. Mossy stones, wet from the morning dew, led to the rose-covered cottage guesthouse. The place was quiet, no movement behind the windows. I knocked on the rough-hewn door, to see if he was back, but no answer.

The handle turned with a squeak. I poked my head inside.

“Michael?”

I hadn’t been inside his cottage since we’d all moved into the mansion. The place had taken on Michael’s scent, a mix of artist’s paints and freshly cut wood. Even when we had been squatters, he had always managed to smell good.

But what really marked the place as his was his amazing drawings, which covered the walls. The first one showed thin Starters with hungry, haunted eyes. They wore ragged layers of clothing, water bottles draped across their bodies, handlites banded around their wrists.

In the next image, three Starters fought over an apple. One lay on the ground, hurt. My life just a few months ago. But the next drawing was even tougher to look at.

My friend Sara. A Starter I had hoped to rescue. I’d told Michael about her and our time together at Institution 37, the nightmarish place where marshals had locked me up with other unclaimed Starters. The sketch showed Sara after she had diverted the guards’ attention away from me and ended up ZipTasered, clinging to barbed wire as she was dying. Michael had never met her, but like most street Starters, he was familiar with desperation and bravery. He portrayed the willing sacrifice in her eyes.

The drawing blurred in my vision. I’d never find a friend that loyal if I lived a million years. She’d given me everything and I’d let her down.

That was my fault.

Someone entered the cottage. I turned to see Tyler coming in.

“Monkey-Face!” he shouted.

I quickly wiped my eyes. He ran up and wrapped his arms around my legs. Michael was behind him, standing in the doorway, smiling. Then he closed the door and put down his travel bag.

“You’re back.” I looked at Michael.

He shook his shaggy blond hair out of his face and looked surprised at the concern in my voice.

Tyler pulled away. “Michael brought me this.”

He waved a small toy truck and ran it over the top of the couch.

“Where’ve you been?” I asked. Michael had been out of my sight since Prime was demolished.

He shrugged. “Just needed some space.”

I knew that he wouldn’t say anything with Tyler there. I knew he had seen me holding hands with Blake, Senator Harrison’s grandson. Two puppets of the Old Man.

“Look, what you saw, that didn’t mean anything,” I said in a lowered voice. “And you, you and Florina—”

“That’s over.”

We stared at each other. Tyler was still playing, making car sounds, but of course he could hear us. I tried to think of what to say to explain my feelings, but I honestly didn’t know what my feelings were. The Old Man, Blake, Michael—it was all so jumbled.

My phone beeped a reminder: three unread Zings.

“Someone dying to reach you?” Michael asked.

The Zings were all from Blake. He’d been trying to contact me since the day I saw him at Prime’s destruction.

“It’s him, right?” Michael said.

I shoved the phone into my pocket, cocked my head, and gave him a look that said “don’t push me.”

Tyler glanced anxiously from Michael to me.

“We’re going to the mall,” Tyler said. “To get me shoes.”

“Without asking me first?” I clung to my shoulder bag and stared at Michael.

“He begged me,” Michael said. “And his favorites are too small now.”

“He’s growing so fast, better buy two sizes.”

We were all glad to see Tyler healthy after a year squatting in cold buildings. “Come with us,” Tyler said.

“I’d love to, but I’m off.”

“Where to?” Michael asked.

“Our old neighborhood. To feed the Starters.”

“Want help?” Michael asked.

“Why? You think I can’t do this alone?” I said.

As soon as I snapped, I wished I could suck the words back in. Michael looked so hurt. Tyler’s mouth fell open in an “uh-oh” moment.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Michael. “Thanks for offering. Really. But I think I can handle it. You guys should go to the mall.”

“You could meet us for lunch,” Tyler said. “After we get my shoes.”

He took Michael’s hand and gave me his best “please please” face. We were the closest thing he had to parents, and he was doing everything he could to pull us together. What I really wanted was to make our parents magically reappear; to have our family back again. But I would have to settle for just fulfilling my brother’s small request.

I balanced the duffel bag on my shoulder as I pushed open the side door of the abandoned office building that had been home for Michael and Tyler—and Florina—when I was being rented out. I stepped into the lobby and saw the reception desk, vacant as usual. I would never have admitted it to Michael, but my heart was beating harder. Faster. I held my breath to listen for any signs of danger. I was familiar with the place, but things change. Who knew which Starters lived here now?

I walked over to the reception desk to make sure no one was hiding, ready to attack. It was clear. I set my duffel bag on the counter, unzipped it, and pulled out a towel. As I was wiping the counter, I heard footsteps behind me. Before I realized what was happening, someone darted by and grabbed the whole bag.

“Hey!” I shouted.

A chubby little Starter ran to the exit, clutching my bag. Several sandwiches spilled out and dropped to the floor.

“That’s supposed to be for everyone, you little jerk!” I yelled.

He burst through the door. I’d never catch up.

I ran around from behind the desk and bent down to pick up the food that had fallen. I had my hand on a wrapped sandwich when someone stepped on me.

“Back off.” It was a Starter girl, maybe a year older than I was.

She held a plank of wood like a bat, ready to strike. The rusty nails at the end of the plank convinced me not to fight. I nodded. She eased her foot off my hand and I pulled it away.

“Take it,” I said, nodding to the smashed sandwich.

She grabbed it and the other two on the floor. She bit right through the wrapper and started eating, making feral sounds. Thin, with short, dirty hair, she had probably once been just a middle-class girl. Like me.

I’d been that hungry before, but no one had ever come to my building to feed me. And now I knew why.

She swallowed. “You.” She stepped closer and touched my hair. “So clean.” Then she examined my face. “Perfect. You’re a Metal, aren’t you?”

“A what?”

“You know, Metal. One of those body bank people. You’ve got that chip in your head.” She took another bite of the sandwich, peeling back the wrapper this time. “How does it feel?” She circled me to stare at the back of my head.

I wore the plainest clothes I had been able to find in Helena’s granddaughter’s closet. But I couldn’t disguise my now-flawless skin, shiny hair, and perfect features. It was too obvious to the world that I had become a kind of chip slave.

“Like someone owns me.”

The glittery mall was completely different from the harsh, lawless squatter life. Ender guards stood watch outside the shops, examining each passing Starter with steely stares. One guard spied some scruffy boys advertising their unclaimed status with dirty faces and stained jeans. He signaled mall security, and they roughly escorted the boys to the exit.

This had been a high-end mall even before the Spore Wars widened the gap between the rich and poor. Though not all Enders were rich and not all Starters were poor, it often seemed that way. But here, I passed plenty of hot Starters, shimmering in their illusion tops and jeans, which changed color and texture as they moved. They were like exotic birds, even the guys, wearing airscreen glasses, layers of scarves, hats with slim solar panels to charge batteries. Those who had temperature-control chips in their glistening metallic jackets kept them on. Others used insta-fold to compress their outerwear so it could be tucked into a wallet. People said they dressed this way to distinguish themselves from the street Starters. I had a closetful of clothes just like theirs, inherited from Helena’s granddaughter. But that wasn’t my style.

These were the claimed Starters living in mansions like mine. I couldn’t always tell them apart from people like me who had received makeovers from the body bank. “Metals,” that girl had said. These mall Starters were beautiful because they could afford to be. They had the best Ender dermatologists, dentists, and hairstylists and all the creams and beauty supplies their grandparents could buy. The Spore Wars had barely put a dent in their spending habits.

I stopped myself. There I was, judging them, but they’d lost their parents too. Maybe their grandparents weren’t nice to them, but cold and resentful, having to see faces every day that reminded them of their lost sons and daughters.

The Spore Wars had changed us all.

I scratched the back of my head and looked around, hoping to see a shoe store. I was supposed to meet Michael and Tyler at the food court, but since my mission to feed the homeless had been a failure, I was early. I swallowed hard, thinking about it. Michael was right—I shouldn’t have gone alone. I should have remembered my street smarts: Never take your hand off your bag. Never stand with your back to an entrance. Always be ready to fight. All that work and I’d only fed two Starters, who had run off without even thanking me.

I directed my attention to the airscreen display directory in the middle of the mall.

“Shoes,” I said to the invisible microphone.

The display pulled the shoe store out of the map and projected a holo into the air. It was the only athletic shoe store in the mall. Knowing Tyler, he was trying on every pair there. I needed to go rescue Michael.

I headed toward the store, passing an Ender grandmother leaning on the arm of a pretty Starter, probably her granddaughter.

She’s easy on the eyes.

I stopped.

It was that artificial, electronic voice in my head, and it set my teeth on edge.

The Old Man.

Hello, Callie. Did you miss me?

“No. Not a bit.” I struggled to make my voice sound even.

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

Clever.

I then remembered he could see through my eyes. I put my hands behind my back so he couldn’t see that they were shaking.

I don’t buy that at all. I’m sure you thought about me every day. Every hour. Every minute.

“It’s all about you, is it?” I really wanted to scream at him, but the guards would think I was crazy.

I eyed the guards. Were they staring at me because I was talking to myself? No, I could be talking into an earpiece. Maybe they had picked up on my nervousness. Not that they could do anything to help me.

“What do you want?”

I want your full attention. And you will want to give it to me.

A chill ran through my body.

Look to your left and tell me what you see.

“Shops.”

Keep looking.

I turned to my left. “Just … a chocolate shop, a jeweler, a shop that’s closed.”

You’re not looking hard enough. What else?

I took a few steps. “Shoppers. Enders, some with grandchildren, some Starters …”

Yes. Starters. Keep looking.

My eyes scanned the area. He wants me to find some Starter?

“Is this a game of hot and cold?”

More like hot and hot. Only you’ll soon see it is no game.

I stood in the middle of the mall as Starters and Enders had to move around me. He wanted me to see a Starter. There were plenty of them … but which one? Then I saw a girl with long red hair. I knew her.

Reece.

She was the donor my guardian, Lauren, had rented to search for her grandson. I remembered Reece as a friend, but of course that was actually Lauren. The real Reece wouldn’t know me. But there was so much I could tell her.

“Reece,” I called out.

She looked as pretty as ever, in a short print dress and silver pumps with little heels. I dodged the shoppers to get closer to her. She was about ten feet ahead of me when she stopped and turned.

“I’m Callie,” I said as shoppers weaved between us. “You don’t know me. But I know you.”

She gave me the strangest look, an expression I’d never seen on her. The corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile, but it wasn’t a fluid move. It was more—mechanical.

Something was wrong.

She quickly turned and walked off.

“Wait,” I called out.

But she kept going. An Ender walked behind her. I wouldn’t have noticed him, but he had a large silvery tattoo on the side of his neck. The head of some animal. I could barely make it out. A leopard, maybe.

“It was Reece, wasn’t it? You wanted me to see her?”

I can always count on you, Callie.

Did Reece know the leopard-tattooed Ender was following her? I wasn’t sure. She darted into a shop. He moved to the next one and pretended to be interested in the pearl chokers in the window.

I took a step toward the shop.

No. Leave her alone.

She came out moments later and the leopard-tattooed man resumed following her. I kept walking, staying behind, watching them both.

“She’s in danger,” I said to the Old Man.

You’ll see.

A horrible sense of dread washed over me. “Is somebody inside her?”

The body bank had been destroyed. But the Old Man was accessing me. He could have someone inside Reece’s body as well. The idea was putting my stomach in knots. His electronic voice. The leopard tattoo. Reece’s body being used.

I saw the shoe store ahead, past Reece. Tyler and Michael were just entering it.

“Michael!” I shouted across the mall, hoping he could hear me over the shoppers and the music. He was maybe six or seven shops away. He stopped and looked around but didn’t see me. He went inside.

Reece must have heard, though, because she turned and stared at me. I didn’t mean for that to happen. That gave the tattooed man a chance to catch up to her. He said something in her ear, and she shook her head with an unnatural movement. He touched her arm and she—or whoever was inside her—pulled it away.

“What’s going on?” I was frozen there, struggling to solve this dark puzzle. “Tell me.”

Just because you destroyed Prime doesn’t mean you destroyed me. It wasn’t my only facility. I can still access any chip.

Reece backed away from the man and ran toward the shoe store.

And I can turn it into a weapon.

“No,” I said to him, to myself, to anyone around.

Time stopped as I held my breath. It all happened so fast. The crowd around me became a frozen blur as I started to run toward the shop. It felt like running through water—I couldn’t move fast enough.

I was two doors away when, like a bullet, a dark-haired Starter wearing a puffy metallic airjacket came at me. I just got a flash of his face—strong jaw, piercing eyes. He threw himself against me, wrapped his arms around my body, and dragged me backward as fast as he could.

Before I could react, there was a horrible, heart-splitting explosion. It came from where Reece had been standing. As we went sailing through the air, I could only see a blinding white flash.

LISSA PRICE is an award-winning, internationally best-selling author whose debut, Starters, has been published in over thirty countries. She lives with her husband in Southern California. Follow @Lissa_Price on Twitter or visit her online at LissaPrice.com.