“Lucy. King.”

“I know. The Head Technician’s daughter.”

“So, how did you end up down here?”

Cass smiled. “Your dad orchestrated the reason we’re here. My dad is the man behind the place.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucy asked, her head still foggy and her mind still fixated on Grant and Grant alone.

“Yuppers,” she replied. “Claude Salvant. Architect and designer behind all the Systems. Overseer of Building for this one. So,” Cass flashed Lucy a wink, “keep your complaints to yourself.”

Joking or not, Lucy couldn’t even bring herself to smile. Cassandra seemed to notice her audience was struggling. They approached the door at the end and pushed their way through, then walked to the elevator and Cass called it to them by placing her palm on the device by the door. Once inside the elevator, Cass turned to Lucy and smiled.

“So, this place…for all its high-tech perks…has one downfall.” She leaned in conspiratorially toward Lucy’s ear. “Paper-thin walls.”

“Ah,” Lucy mumbled and she understood the implication. “Well, then I apologize for the meltdowns.”

“Seems like they were a bit warranted. But I never judge what happens in someone else’s family. Scout’s honor.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Look, Lucy. Here’s what’s going to happen. You with me? We’re going to stop by the Center. Make sure some people see us. We might disappear into one of the theater rooms, chat it up with the boys who hang around there. Then you and I are going to make a little secret journey,” Cass lowered her voice and leaned in. “Follow my lead and don’t ask any questions. And understand that I get annoyed when people can’t obey these simple instructions. Got it?”

The doors opened and Cass walked Lucy out into a hallway. Double doors five feet away were held open and Lucy could hear the din of voices and conversations, people laughing and carrying on like normal. Cass made a move to walk toward the room, but Lucy stalled.

“Wait. We just met. And you’re taking me on some kind of—” Lucy noticed Cass widened her eyes and shook her head once as a warning, so she stopped mid-sentence and crossed her arms over her chest. She was forever going to be the odd one out down here. “Why are you doing this? You don’t owe me anything.”

Cass smiled as if she had expected Lucy to ask her this. “I already told you, ma cheri. Les murs parlent. Anything you’ve said above a whisper,” she tapped her right ear with her pointer finger a couple times and then giggled. “I already know enough. I know you needed out of that shitty…with apologies to my dear Papa…apartment. Now, are you ready for an adventure?”

If Lucy had ever admired Salem’s clumsy flirting, it was only because she had not been introduced to the fine art of pure, unadulterated charm. Twenty-year-old Cassandra Lourdes Marie Salvant oozed charisma at every turn—her two-toned eyes were sharp and clear as she meandered around the Center, flitting in and around different groups of people, touching them gently on the arm as she went—documenting her presence with a smile or a nod, and sometimes with a one-liner or compliment too. People’s heads followed her as she roamed. Everyone knew her, deferred to her, welcomed her with smiles, hugs, and genuine excitement.

Lucy shuffled behind, her heels still sticking out of the back of her shoes, her arms crossed over the shirt she had worn for two days straight. She had never been so viscerally aware of her own deficits. For a while she was embarrassed that Cass had to be seen with her, but soon she realized that no one seemed to notice her—eyes and attention went to the dark beauty first, following her path visibly as if she left behind an actual trail of pheromone.

The Center was a recreation hall—roughly the size of Lucy’s old high school gym back at Pacific Lake. It was set up with air hockey tables, darts, and a snack shack. For the younger set, there was an indoor playground. Monitored by a larger woman with a whistle, the kids slid down slides and crawled through tunnels, climbed up ropes, and played organized games of capture the flag or tag.

Lucy’s siblings were here. The twins seemed to be playing a variation of the game tetherball with some other kids their age and Harper ran gleefully through the indoor park in pure screaming bliss. Galen hung around a picnic table with some other kids, and they were engaged in a card game Lucy didn’t recognize. But the smile on his face indicated that he was having fun. He looked up and saw his sister and registered shock and then amusement, he motioned her over, but Lucy declined and pointed to Cass. Galen followed her finger and then nodded, as if arriving with the beautiful next-door neighbor was the most predictable thing in the world. He waved and went back to his cards, and Lucy lingered, watching him, before moving on.

Cass must have noticed Lucy’s face as she took in the scene; she stopped her trek and backtracked, leaned into her new friend and whispered, “Stimulation for the body is good for the mind. Children are encouraged to play. Plus, it’s hard to be cooped up, no? My dad designed this play space with kids of all ages in mind. I’m quite fond of it.”

Everyone else seemed to be, too.

Lucy loved the way Cass spoke to her—voice low and lilting, like every word had power and meaning.

Cass kept moving and she stopped to chat with a group of young women sitting on some couches, engaging them in a conversation about a book. Then Cass slipped her arm through Lucy’s and patted her bicep with a loving tap. “Look, look. A movie theater too. He did think of everything, didn’t he?” And Lucy couldn’t tell if Cass was filled with genuine admiration for her father or if everything she said was cut with an undercurrent of cynicism.

Sure enough, just beyond the ruckus of the Center gym, there was a theater—small in size and scope compared to the megaplexes Lucy usually graced, but a theater nonetheless. People lounged in beanbags and on blankets and sat glued to the screen as some black and white classic played in the foreground.

“You think we’ve been seen, ma cheri?” Cass asked and she patted Lucy’s arm again. “You and Galen had a moment. So. Let us retire from here.” Cass directed Lucy into the theater room and, holding her hand, placed her up against the back of the wall. She waited, watching the crowd and then watching the screen. Then, as the music swelled and the group’s attentions were focused forward, Cass opened a small door in the side of the theater and as quick as a wink, ducked inside and shut the door behind her.

They were back in a hallway, long and sterile, with no other doors nearby. Cass looked at Lucy and erupted into a smile.

“Your face!” she exclaimed. “So afraid! My adventures are top-rate, I promise. But…” she brought her finger up over her lips and made a shushing sound. Then, still holding on to Lucy’s hand, she pulled her down the hall and through another set of doors, through a second hall and another set of doors; until Lucy was altogether turned around inside the giant belly of the System.

Finally they seemed to have discovered a dead-end. Cass led Lucy right up to the metal wall and with a wide smile she leaned down to the floor and pushed her hands against the metal. The wall gave under her touch and slid upward three feet, exposing a darkened tunnel.

“I don’t think so,” Lucy declined as politely as she could. “I have this fear…of the dark and small spaces. It started with this fruit cellar at home and I just don’t think…”

Cass didn’t seem to hear Lucy’s mumbled worries, because she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the exposed tunnel, disappearing into the darkness. Swearing under her breath, Lucy followed, taking a second to clutch Salem’s necklace and send up a tiny prayer to the God in charge of phobias. As she crawled, the darkness swept over her and she couldn’t see anything. Panic crept through her.