Minders (2 page)

SA: My
father has a holistic investment practice, and my mother is on the board of several not-for-profit agencies that focus on improving conditions for children living at or below the poverty line.

CP: Here
in Detroit?

SA: Yes.
Mainly in City Center but wherever the need is greatest.

CP: Does
she spend time in City Center?

SA: No,
her work is more at the fund-raising and oversight level.

CP: You
live in Lower Long Lake. That’s, what, twenty-five minutes from City Center?

SA: I
suppose, on the Zipway. I think it’s about thirty miles. On regular streets it would probably take an hour.

CP: Have
you ever been there?

SA: A
busload of us went on a school photography trip this year to take pictures of the abandoned Barrington Building.

CP: What
did you think?

SA: It
was an excellent subject for the class.

CP: I
meant what did you think of City Center?

SA: Oh.
We only drove through. We didn’t really spend time there.

CP: You
must have had some observations, even from the window of the bus?

SA: I
noticed the street names because my mother is on the mayor’s steering committee for the Road Sponsorship program, so when I saw Fitness Zone Boulevard and CouponCouponCoupon.com Way, I felt like I was seeing her work.

CP: If
you are accepted as a Mind Corps Fellow, you will likely to end up in an environment with a stronger resemblance to City Center than your community. It will be chaotic. You will see things that make you uneasy. Do you think you would be able to maintain your composure and objectivity?

SA: Yes.
Especially if I can help change that and improve the lives of those who live there.

CP: You
are finishing your junior year of high school. Where do you see yourself in five years?

SA: Spending
the summer between college and medical school doing an internship at a clinic or health center in an underserved neighborhood.

CP: You’re
quite an overachiever.

SA: I
work my hardest at everything. That’s just achieving, not overachieving.

CP: You
are the valedictorian of your class, the co-captain of the tennis team, the head of your school’s community volunteer committee, a national debate champion, have never been in trouble, and are considered a role model by your peers and teachers alike. Your résumé makes you look perfect. Tell me one thing about yourself that’s not perfect.

SA: My
father would say I take things too seriously.

CP: Do
you agree?

SA: Pete—my
boyfriend—would.

CP: And
you?

SA: It’s
not something I really think about.

CP: Can
you always control your thoughts?

SA: Mostly.

CP: Sometimes
the experience of Syncopy can trigger underlying conditions. Please answer yes or no to the following. Have you ever experienced claustrophobia?

SA: No.

CP: Depression?

SA: No.

CP: Homicidal
urges?

SA: No.

CP: Animal
attacks?

SA: No.

CP: Panic
or anxiety attacks?

SA: Not
at all.

CP: Phobias?

SA: I’m
afraid of heights.

CP: What
about heights, specifically? The openness?

SA: Falling.

CP: Have
you ever been witness to a crime?

SA: No.

CP: What
would you do if you found yourself in that position?

SA: Contact
the appropriate authorities and help the victim.

CP: In
that order?

SA: If
possible. Alerting those with the power to do something would seem to be the prudent first step.

CP: So
if you saw a convenience store clerk being held up by a robber with a gun to his head, you’d—

SA: Call
Serenity Services.

CP: You
wouldn’t try to tackle the robber?

SA: That
would most likely get us both killed. Approaching someone with a gun is far more likely to escalate the situation to violence.

CP: Interesting.

SA: The
statistics are very clear on that.

CP: The
statistics, yes. But what about your gut reaction? Would that really be to think of statistics?

SA: I
work hard to behave according to what is most logical, rather than by listening to my “gut.”

CP: I’m
going to give you a hypothetical situation and ask you some questions about it.

SA: Okay.

CP: An
old woman is looking at a Rembrandt in a museum when a fire breaks out. You can only save one, the woman or the painting, but not both. Which would you save?

SA: I’d
ask the old woman what she wanted me to do.

CP: You
didn’t even have to think about that.

SA: It’s
the logical thing to do.

CP: And
if she told you to choose?

SA: I’d
send her out with the painting and stay behind myself.

CP: And
if that were not an option?

SA: I
would save the painting. It would benefit more people.

CP: And
if instead of an old woman you had to choose between saving the painting or a kitten?

SA: The
painting. Of course.

CP: What
if the old woman is a Nobel Prize–winning scientist on the cusp of a breakthrough cure for cancer?

SA: If
I had a chance to find all that out, I would imagine there would be time to save both her and the painting.

CP: That’s
a cop-out.

SA: So
is continually tweaking a hypothetical problem so that it never concludes.

CP: So
it is, Miss Ames. Very well, let’s take a real-life example. I see that you have worked the past two summers at the snack bar at the country club. What would you do if you found out a co-worker was stealing from the cash register?

SA: I
would tell our boss.

CP: What
if they said they desperately needed the money and begged you not to turn them in?

SA: You’re
not helping them if you don’t. If they need the money that badly, they need help, and stealing won’t be the answer over the long term. Alerting someone in charge would be the best way to get them the true assistance they need and avert a much bigger catastrophe.

CP: What
if it was a cute guy you wanted to date?

SA: I
don’t believe in dating at work.

CP: What
if it were Decca? Your best friend.

SA: Then
I would sell the Rembrandt we just rescued, take the money, and she and I would go on the run.

CP: Really?

SA: No.
I would turn her in and get her the best help I could. Because if Decca were stealing, it would mean that she was gravely unhappy or deeply in trouble, and I would do everything in my power to get her happy and well again. And the best first step would be to put a stop to the destructive behavior.

CP: I
thought you said your friends would describe you as loyal. Now you’re turning them in?

SA: Not
punishing someone and letting them “get away” with something isn’t love, and it isn’t friendship. It is lazy and enabling. People use loyalty as emotional blackmail for morally questionable decisions. Making the hard choice shows you are paying attention and that you care. That is true loyalty.

CP: Very
rousing.

SA: I’m
sorry if that was too zealous.

CP: Never
apologize for showing that you have a pulse, Miss Ames. If you are accepted as a Fellow, you will be on your own in someone’s mind, entirely, for nearly two months. You will have no contact with anyone, no one to talk to. And no control. Up until this point your whole life has been about control. This would mean completely yielding to someone else.

SA: That
doesn’t worry me.

CP: But
are you sure it is what you want?

SA: Yes.
Very much.

CP: So
far it seems like this fellowship would simply be something else to add to your already impressive college application. Give me one reason why I should believe it means more to you than that.

SA: I
just killed off an old woman—possibly a Nobel laureate—and a kitten, and turned in my best friend and two co-workers for stealing in order to persuade you to give it to me.

CP: So
you did. [Laughing.] Still, tell me why you want it.

SA: I
want to feel what pressures other people feel. Experience the world guided by someone else’s moral compass. See and hear and taste with senses formed in a completely different mold than mine. I want to see what it’s like to live someone else’s lie.

CP: Well
put.

SA: Someone
else’s life.

CP: Of
course. I believe that covers everything. Thank you, Miss Ames.

END INTERVIEW

CHAPTER 1

ORIENTATION

A
t nine forty-five on a sunny Thursday morning, Sadie Ames took a sharp left “at the birdhouse,” as directed by the instructions she’d been e-mailed, and went from a single-lane road to a rutted mud track overhung with trees. As she came around the curve, pebbles pinged against the side of her Saab convertible—red, at her father’s insistence—and her tires jiggled over an uneven patch of mud.

Sadie’s hands curled around the steering wheel, knuckles going white.
No no no
, she thought to herself. It was a warm June morning, but she felt a chill of apprehension. This could not be happening. She was
not
going to be late to orientation. She’d allowed an hour and a half for what was only supposed to be a forty-minute drive; even with the accident backing up things on the Zipway, everything was going fine.

Until she got lost.

“Something’s wrong,” she said into the speakerphone. “This can’t be the place.” There was no way that an elite research facility would be down an unmaintained trail barely big enough for a bike.

Pete’s voice came through her earpiece: “What does your GPS say?”

“Nothing. I’m out of range.”

She heard him chuckle. “No wonder you sound so panicked. You without a GPS—”

“—is like a bun without a burger,” she interrupted the familiar litany. “I know.”

Pete said, “I just think it’s funny that a girl who knows exactly where she’s going has such a terrible sense of direction. It’s like one of nature’s jokes.”

“Hilarious.” Sadie had slowed almost to a crawl now, the branches of the bushes scratching against the sides of her car.

It was true, she did have a terrible sense of direction, but he didn’t have to harp on it. She secretly thought he did it because it was one of the few things he was better at than she was. She enjoyed the competitiveness of their relationship—as Pete said, it made them both sharper—but sometimes it could feel a little petty.

Not that she would tell him that. Although movies and books said being in love meant sharing everything, she’d learned early in her relationship with Pete that sharing often led to pointless drama.

His voice broke into her thoughts. “Look, tell me the address, and I’ll find the directions.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. The clock on her dashboard flashed 9:49.

“Oh, that’s right.” The tension in Pete’s voice was palpable even through the speakerphone. “You can’t reveal the location of your secret spy camp.”

“It’s not spy camp,” she said, her jaw tight. Glancing in her rearview mirror at the narrow, brambly track she’d just come point-eight miles down, she thought that going back looked even worse than going forward.

“I still don’t get why you want to do this,” Pete’s voice went on, as though he wouldn’t have leapt at the chance to do it the previous year when he was eligible—if he’d been accepted. “It’s just some glorified exchange program. You’d learn more about how other people live by going to Mexico and building houses for a few weeks like I did last summer. And we could hang out on the beach together.”

Agree with him
, she told herself.
There’s no reason to go over this again.
“That does sound—” She rounded a curve and then stopped herself midsentence. “There’s a guardhouse in front of me. I wasn’t wrong after all.” Relief flooded over her like a warm bath.