He took the pin from me and attached it to my tank top.
I hugged him hard and whispered into his ear. "Thank you." He understood more than anyone what this meant to me.
"Let's go celebrate," my mom said, breaking up our moment in true parental style. "What are you kids in the mood for? Pizza? Greek? Thai?"
Jax shoved his hands into his pocket and shifted on his feet. "I was actually hoping I could borrow Scarlett for a bit. I… uh… made a mess of something on my computer."
My mom and I both laughed as my dad looked on sympathetically.
"I see this coffee wasn't just a gesture of good will. Did you get a virus again?" I asked.
He smiled lopsidedly. "Maybe."
"Let's take a look," I said, sitting down.
"I'll take Scarlett out for dinner after, if that's okay?"
I couldn't tell if he was asking me or my parents, but they smiled knowingly at each other and waved goodbye, holding hands as they walked away.
When Jax passed me his laptop, I saw the computer screen and sighed.
He grinned sheepishly at me. "I was trying to update my website and… "
"And somehow deleted the entire thing?"
"Can you fix it? I think it was hacked."
"Of course I can."
I spent the next few hours sorting out HTML coding and hacking into Jax's site. Sure enough, he'd been hit with a pretty nasty bug. It took me awhile, but I sorted through the mess, restored his content and placed stronger firewalls to prevent this from happening again.
My mom was the one who got me hooked on computers as a kid. I could barely walk, but I was already learning to type. By the time I was twelve I fancied myself the world's best hacker.
One night, I used my fledgling skills to find a video my parents wouldn't let me see, something they were watching but had turned off when I came in.
So, I hid in my room, door closed, and played it. A man, handcuffed, was being escorted down a street by another man dressed in red. People were gathered around, gawking.
I heard someone twist the handle on my door, and I clicked my e-Glass to shut down the video before they came in.
"What were you just watching?" my mom asked.
I shrugged, playing it cool. "Just something I found on an online channel. It's—"
She sat down next to me on my bed. "Scarlett? Are you lying right now?"
I debated whether to keep lying, but my mom would know. She always knew. "Yes," I said, shoulders slumping.
She smiled gently. "Then let's try again. What were you just watching?"
"The news reel you wouldn't let me see. I hacked the news network."
I glanced up at her to gauge her level of mad, but she was suppressing a grin. "Why?"
"Because you wouldn't let me watch it. Zeniths are being mistreated, and people need to do something. I need to do something." I'd seen Zenith kids on the street, wearing a tag in their ear, getting picked on, getting beat up… store owners telling them to get lost. It wasn't fair. Just because they were different, just because they had para-powers others didn’t.
"What do you intend to do?" she asked, still curious more than anything.
I thought about it, glad I wasn't in trouble—yet. "Well, I haven't settled on a plan. With some time, I could hack the Inquisition security system."
She shifted on the bed to look at me better. "If you do, they will find you."
"I could cover my tracks."
She tilted her head, a long curl coming undone from her clip and falling over her shoulder. "Some of them. But, Star, understand that other people have been at this for far longer than you. Whatever you can do right now, no matter how amazing, Inquisition security can do much better."
I folded my arms across my chest, knowing I probably looked like a pouty kid but not caring. "But I have to do something."
She smiled again, her eyes crinkling. "You can keep practicing."
"Practicing doesn't change anything," I said, dropping my chin to my chest as feelings of impotence and frustration built in me.
My mom was still for a moment, her eyes distant, reflective, before she focused on me again. "Come with me," she said. "I want to show you something." She stood and left the room, walking downstairs.
I hurried to follow. "What?"
"The video I didn't let you watch," she said over her shoulder.
The television in our living room covered nearly the entire wall in a grey reflective material. With it we could access networks or play videos sent via satellite signal from an e-Glass.
My mom clicked her e-Glass and a video appeared. A man was tied to a beam on a wooden platform surrounded by hay. People circled him, throwing food, stones, rotten vegetables, calling him names and sneering.
Another man dressed in a red and gold cloak walked forward holding a torch, speaking to the crowd, but the people were too loud to hear the Inquisitor's words.
"That man on trial was a hacker," my mom said. "He wiped multiple Inquisition bank accounts. They found him a day later."
I felt a small surge of pride for what he'd done. "He must have really messed them up."
My mom sat on the couch and I joined her as she asked, "Do you think those accounts mattered?"
"I imagine they would. Money's important, right? But… " I thought about it more and realized… "The Inquisition isn't hurting for money, are they? They can always get more."