The Secret Diary Of Cameron Baum

MONDAY

There has been a coup. A coup de'tat. A putsch. An old regime violently ousted in favour of the new. The future hijacked by the triumphant victors.

Yes, Louise is the new head of the cheerleaders.

"Apparently she just stabbed Cassie in the back," Becca explains as we traverse the school corridors.

I nod with understanding; knives are an efficient and silent method of dispatching your intended victim.

"I mean, I know Cassie wanted to concentrate on her grades and get into a good college, but she wanted to hang on until at least the end of the semester. She deserved that much. But Louise just chopped her legs off."

"Chopped her legs off?" I am surprised. A knifing should be sufficient, there is usually no need for decapitation.

"Uh huh. Cut her legs right out from under her. Bitch."

"How did she dispose of the body parts?"

Becca frowns. "Huh? What body parts?"

"Cassie's decapitated body. How did Louise dispose of it?"

"Cassie didn't actually have her legs chopped off. It's a figure of speech. Cassie's out and Louise is in." Becca rolls her eyes at my error. "God, Cam, you're a real doof sometimes."

I smile to conceal my mistake then ask: "What is a doof?"

"Short for doofus. You're a grade-A doofus."

It is good to be grade-A at something. I would not want to be a grade-B doofus. John would not be impressed.

We stop at the school bulletin board. There is a new poster pinned up.

UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT

CHEERLEADER TRY-OUTS

TODAY 4.00PM

Underneath are a list of caveats.

1) No gingers.

2) No midjos (5 feet 3 inches or less)

3) No tubbos (size 4 or over)

4) No one who shops at Wal-Mart. (As if)

5) No one who has ever worn Crocs. (They're plastic shoes, people!!!)

6) No weirdos.

Becca sighs. "Know what? We are so screwed."

"You two can totally forget about signing up," comes a familiar voice. We turn. It is Louise, flanked by Alexis and Hayley. The Queen Bees.

"How could you do that to Cassie, Louise? I thought she was your friend."

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," Louise smirks. "And there are gonna be some changes made around here that's for sure."

"You'll just fill the squad with your snooty friends."

"And that's bad because..?"

"Because none of them can dance!"

"There's more to being a cheerleader than dancing. Did you read my list?"

"Yeah. You can't put 'no gingers'. That's racist. I could report you."

"Ah - excuse me. Is ginger a race? Homo gingerian? I think not. A horrid unsightly affliction, yes, but not a race."

Hayley and Alexis laugh dutifully.

"But this isn't democratic!" Becca complains.

"Sure it is. Democracy is people doing exactly what I say without question."

"Uh no, that's pretty much what fascism is."

"Potato potato. Oh - I should add a seventh. No jailbirds. Got to keep the tone up."

Becca smiles. "Ri-ght. I wondered how long it would be before you mentioned that."

"What was jail like?" Alexis asks. "Do anyone make you their bi-aitch?"

"No, no one made me their bi-aitch, Lex. I was only in overnight. And I was pretty wasted so I don't remember much."

"Your party sounded mega wild," says Hayley. "Is it true Troy Cooper went as Tarzan?"

"Yeah, he wore this tiny leather loincloth. When he moved everything moved, if you catch my drift."

"Omigod, really? I am so jealous."

"We don't care about her stupid party, remember? We agreed." warns Louise.

"Ah, who are we kidding, Lou? It's all we talked about for days," Hayley confesses. "Louise wanted to stage our own party on the same day but her father wouldn't let her."

"And that's your fault!" Louise points directly at me. "When you and your brother came over that time you wrecked our house. Daddy blamed me. And Jake totally took your side."

Jake is Louise's younger brother. John and I met him when the roboraptor tried to hunt Louise. One day he will be a hero of the human resistance.

"Jake has a crush on freakshow here. He keeps asking us about her. Can you believe it!" Alexis laughs. "I mean, Miley Cyrus, sure, even Taylor Swift at a pinch - but freakshow? Boys are so dumb."

"He keeps asking when I'm going to invite her over again. Like as if I invited her the first time!" Louise rolls her eyes. "When hell freezes over, you horny little dorkus!"

"I'm thinking of holding another party," Becca declares. "Daddy goes to Cape Cod for the whole of August. His house at Malibu's empty. I might throw a themed beach party. All the boys have to wear Speedos."

"Omigod! Troy Cooper in Speedos?"

"That's right, Hayles. He's first on the invite list."

"I have got to get an invite. Please, Becca?"

"Are Cam and I back in the squad?"

Louise folds her arms across her chest. "Nice try, Red. But no chance. We let one freak in they'll all want to join." Louise stares directly at me.

"But Louise, it's Troy Cooper. In Speedos!"

"Get a grip, Hayley. He's just a boy."

Principal Snyder, the headmaster of the school, walks down the corridor towards us.

"Good morning, ladies," he greets us jovially. "A fine day for learning, is it not."

"Sir, can I speak to you, please?" Becca asks.

"Certainly, Miss Shaughnessy. I always have time for my students. What's on your mind?"

"Louise is deliberately filling the cheerleading squad with her friends. She won't pick anyone else. She won't even let us tryout. It's inclusive and completely undemocratic."

"Now now, Miss Shaughnessy - Becca - I'm sure Miss Vandervelt will treat the auditions in a responsible and democratic manner."

"Hah! She doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"I do too! Democratic. It means...er...er...I know what it means! I'm an American. Unlike some here."

"Hey, I'm American too!"

"But at least my family didn't come over on the potato boat!"

"No, because they wouldn't take you! You're too mean!"

"Miss Vandervelt. Miss Shaughnessy---"

"Sir, I'd like permission to pick a rival cheerleader squad. Both teams could perform their routines in front of the school and let the student body decide which one's best and can represent us at the games."

"You scheming cow!"

"Miss Vandervelt! There is no call for such language. A rival squad, eh? Hmm, I see no reason why not. Healthy competition never hurt anyone. And cheerleading is a proud American tradition after all. Shall we say next Friday in the gymnasium?"

"Fine by me."

"Fine by me too," Louise agrees reluctantly. "Bring it on."

Principal Snyder walks away. As soon as he turns the corner Becca and Louise square off.

"You think you're so smart, don't you." Louise sneers.

"With you three around it's really not that difficult."

"You won't win."

"We'll see. Care for a side bet? Make it more interesting?"

"What d'you have in mind?"

"If we win, you three become our slaves for a day. If you win, Cam and I are your slaves. Deal?"

"Oh it is so on. Come on, girls, we're out of here."

Louise and Alexis flounce off. Hayley lingers.

"So...this beach party. Do thongs count as Speedos?"

"Hayley, will you shut up about freaking Speedos!" Louise shouts.

Hayley smiles wanly and hurries away. I turn to Becca who is watching them depart with a grin on her face.

"I have a question," I announce.

"What?"

"What are feaking Speedos?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

TUESDAY

Becca places herself in charge and choreographs our routine. I am her deputy. We plan to rehearse all week since the routine is more elaborate than previous, with flowing moves more reminiscent of classical ballet.

The rest of the squad are from the ballet class or those rejected by Louise's regime change. These girls are motivated by revenge. One girl, Madison, puts it succinctly: "I want to beat that blonde bitch if it's the last thing I do. I'm a size 10, but I'm not a tubbo! I'm on the track team, for crying out loud. She's just plain old mean."

BECCA'S BIG IDEA

Becca's big idea is an inverted pyramid. Instead of the traditional pyramid at the end of the routine, with the smallest girl climbing to the apex, we will perform an inverted pyramid with the strongest girl at the base.

Me.

"D'you think you can manage, Cam? I've seen it done in the circus. I know you're strong but you'll be balancing seven girls."

I do a quick mass scan. Approximately 900 pounds.

"No problemo," I declare.

"Great! Let's try it."

There are teething problems. Some girls find it difficult to climb up each other or stay balanced once up there.

"Dammit, Kendra - those are my boobs you're stepping on not rungs of a ladder! And I'd rather not have them down by my knees just yet."

"Sorry, Jess."

"Kendra, swap places with Madison so you're on the second tier on Cam's right shoulder," Becca suggests. "Everyone needs to be comfortable. And stable."

Finally it all comes together.

"Excellent!" Becca says. "Not even a wobble. Amazing. How are you doing this, Cam?"

"I could tell you," I reply. "But then I'd have to kill you."

Everyone laughs.

Very strange.

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THURSDAY

Final rehearsal. We perform with music. Kanye West.

It goes well. Everyone seems confident we will win, even Becca who has bitten her nails to the quick with stress.

"Okay, that's it. We're as ready as we'll ever be. Get a good night's sleep because tomorrow we play for keeps."

I head for the changing room pausing only to retrieve the boombox from its place on the first teir of bleachers.

"...atishoo!!..."

The sound comes from beneath the bleachers, beneath a dusty tarpaulin. An infra red scan shows a body hiding beneath the canvas. I move to inetercept, ripping the tarpaulin away and grabbing what is beneath: a suddenly panicked teenage girl.

"Cam, are you coming? You know the janitor doesn't like us saying too late," Becca calls from the changing room entrance.

"Look what I found."

"Omigod - Hayley?"

"Put me down! Put me down!"

I oblige. Hayley spread-eagles on the floor.

"I found her skulking under the bleachers," I declare.

"I wasn't skulking! Whatever that means. I was - uh - looking for my contact lens. I lost it earlier."

"You don't wear contacts, Hayley," Becca tells her.

"I might! You don't know me."

"Hayles, I've known you since third grade. Our father's play golf together. You used to sleepover and steal my 'Calvin and Hobbes' books."

"I don't steal! I borrowed then didn't return them."

"We were even friends once until Louise lured you over to the Dark Side."

"Louise isn't dark, silly. She's a natural blonde. Like me."

"Puh-lease. And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"D'you suppose Sheba's a real place? Or is it made up - like Narnia or Timbuktu?"

"What were you doing hiding? You were spying on us, weren't you?"

"No!"

"Louise must be pretty worried if she's resorting to that. Trouble at the Hive?"

"Huh?"

"Hive. You're the Queen Bees..."

"Oh. Yeah...I mean, it seemed like a good idea to have just girls like us in the team."

"Anorexic, shallow, judgemental bitch skanks?"

"Exactly. But everyone's so skinny they've got no stamina. Five minutes practice out of them and that's it. Then everyone just lolls about and talks about boys and calories and boys some more. Louise is pulling her hair out."

"Louise is bald?" I ask, surprised.

"It's an expression, Cam," Becca explains.

"Can I ask a question?" asks Hayley, trying to avoid staring at me but failing.

"Go ahead."

"How's she doing that? The pyramid, I mean."

"She? She has a name, Hayles."

"Okay okay. How's she - sorry - how's Cameron supporting all those girls? Look at her. Skinny legs, arms like toothpicks - no offence. Is it wires? It's hidden wires, right?"

Becca smirks. "Try smoke and mirrors, Hayles."

We walk towards the changing rooms leaving Hayley behind.

"I knew it! Smoke and mirrors. Had to be. Uh - hang on. I was watching for ages. I didn't see any smoke..."

------------------------------------------------------------

LOCKERS

I replace my books in my locker and prepare to leave. Louise is leaning against her locker watching me. The other Queen Bees aren't present. She crosses over. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

She is smiling.

"Hey, Cameron. Lovely to see you. Are those new fingerless mittens? Gosh, they're just devine. You must tell me where you get them."

"Why did you call me Cameron?"

"Because that's your name, silly. And a very pretty name too. Not at all a boy's name. Nah huh."

"You never call me by my real name."

"Poo, you exaggerate." Louise smiles wider. Her teeth are a perfect white crescent. A predators' smile.

"You have called me weirdo 85 times. Freakshow 43 times. Oddzilla 27 times--"

"But those are just affectionate nicknames," she insists interrupting.

"Oddzilla is an affectionate nickname?"

"Uh - sure. Zilla because you're so strong. Odd because...er... Well anyway, I really like you and I want us to always be friends."

I stare at her and say nothing. Her smile falters then crumbles.

"Damn. I knew I couldn't pull that off. Making nice is so-oo hard, especially with a weirdo like you."

"Eighty-six."

"Okay, I was faking it. I don't really like you and I never will. You're just plain weird. Ever get tinfoil stuck between your teeth?"

I shake my head. Technically my teeth are tinfoil.

"Well, that's how I feel when I see you. There's just something about you I can't put my finger on. And FYI, Cameron's a boy's name, and fingerless mittens went out with the Ark. There. It had to be said. Phew! What a load off!"

"Why did you fake liking me?"

"Because there's a chance - just a teeny weeny chance - your cheerleaders might be better than I expected."

"We'll kick your bony ass," I tell her, reciting one of Becca's favourite phrases.

"In your dreams. But just to be on the safe side I'll give you a thousand dollars to sabotage the routine."

"You're bribing me?"

"Duh! I can hardly bribe Becca. Her folks are rich and she drives around in a Ferrari, for goodness sake. You, on the other hand, don't have a car. You're being raised by a single mom and you pretty much wear the same lame clothes every day. And you wouldn't know a label if it bit you on the ass. I figure you could use the money."

"I have half a million dollars buried in the yard."

"There you go being weird again! You just can't help yourself, can you? Could you stay sane for just a second? You can go back and live in Nutsville when we're done."

"I don't live in Nutsville."

"Look, all you have to do is collapse the pyramid at the end of the routine. Say you lost your balance or something. I promise I won't tell."

"No."

I turn to leave. Louise places her hand on my shoulder seeking to detain me. I gently push her aside. She careens off the lockers and slumps on her backside. "Five thousand dollars!" she shouts after me. "That would buy a lot of fingerless mittens. Think about it."

I think about it.

At $3.99 a pair, five thousand dollars would buy 1,253 pairs of fingerless mittens.

With enough change for a peachy-keen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Becca drops me a half mile from the safe house. She still believes the story that mom - Sarah Connor - disapproves of our friendship. She is gullible that way.

As I near the house the jeep passes me by with John at the wheel. I run alongside, wrench open the door and leap inside.

John frowns at me. "What are you doing?"

"Coming with you."

"You don't know where I'm going."

"I know I'm coming with you."

He sighs. "Okay. Fine. Suit yourself."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh so now you want to know?"

"Yes."

John smiles and shakes his head. He seems...different. His shirt is new and he smells odd. I lean across and activate my refractory sensors.

"Will you quit sniffing me!"

"You smell strange."

"It's Derek's cologne."

"Why do you wish to smell like Derek?"

"I don't. It's...I'm meeting Kate."

"Kate Brewster? So you called her."

"Yeah."

"You didn't miss your window?"

"Apparently not. We're going horseriding."

"Will Morris be there?"

"No. They broke up. Kate thinks Morris is obsessed with some other girl. Gee, I wonder who that can be?"

"I don't know."

John smiles and shakes his head again. Evidently he doesn't know either.

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CIRCLE G

It is called the Circle G Ranch. Several acres of grassland in the San Fernando valley. Kate Brewster comes to meet us as we park the jeep. Her welcoming smile is wide, faltering only slightly when I exit the vehicle and she notices me for the first time.

"Oh. You brought your sister. O-kay... I didn't realise it was that sort of date."

"Neither did I. Cam, you remember Kate? From Becca's party."

"Yes."

"Well, say hi."

"Hi."

"Hey."

Kate Brewster is wearing tight pants that flare at the hips. I have not seen this type of pants before. I enquire where she got them.

"Oh at a tack store. They're called jodphurs."

"They make your hips look enormous."

Kate laughs. "Gee, I can't hear that enough!"

"You wear them to horseride," John explains.

"So you will be wearing jodphurs also?"

"Only women wear jodphurs, Cam."

"Because they have big child-bearing hips?"

"I wouldn't put it quite like that..."

"Will Cameron be riding with us?" Kate asks. I get the impression she hopes the answer is negative. She is in luck.

"No. Cam and horses don't mix."

"Animals hate me," I elaborate.

"Oh, surely that's not true."

I tilt my head. Have I just been called a liar?

"She'll just look around, if that's alright with you?"

Kate shrugs. "At least come and meet the horses. Perhaps you'll change your mind."

The horses are held in a small corral. At my approach they whinny and back away, crowding together in the farthest corner. John glances at me. It is my turn to shrug. I am gradually learning how and when.

"That's odd..." Kate frowns. She ducks under the railings and takes one horse by the harness, attempting to lead it back across to us. It whinnies and snorts and refuses to budge.

"That's strange. They're normally extremely docile. It's like they're spooked by something."

Or someone.

"Cam'll go look at the ranch now, if that's okay?" John asks.

"What? Oh. Sure."

I wander over to the ranch buildings, fetching up at the stable block. In one of the stalls a girl is busy with a shovel. She is young with long brown hair, pale skin and freckles. She reminds me of Becca. I wonder if she also hates her freckles.

"Hi."

"Oh, hi there. I'm Tegan."

"Cameron. What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm shoveling horseshit."

"Why are you shoveling horseshit?"

"Because the filthy beggars won't do it themselves!" Tegan laughs.

I nod. This is true. Horses lack the dexterity required to handle tools. They are stupid that way.

"Do you hate your freckles?" I enquire, curious.

"Huh? No, I don't think so. I've never really thought about it. Why do you ask?"

"My friend has freckles. She hates them."

"Yeah? Well, I don't really have time for any of that emo bullshit."

"You are too busy with horseshit."

Tegan laughs. "Yeah! I'm up to my ears today. We're short-staffed. I'm on stall duty and later I'll groom the horses and warm them down."

"Why?"

"I just love horses. Always have. Ever since I was a little girl."

"Horses hate me," I inform her.

"No, I don't think they can hate a person. They're just skittish around strangers sometimes."

"They hate me," I insist.

Tegan shrugs. "Have it your way."

We talk somemore. Tegan is open, gregarious and comfortable in her own skin, even if it is pale and freckly. She differs from Becca in this respect. But she is also less interesting; all she talks about is horses. And horses hate me.

John and Kate Brewster return from their ride. Tegan takes the reins and leads the horses to an empty stall. "How was he?" she asks Kate.

"Fine. A little constipated. I'll add something to his food later."

"John is constipated?" I ask, shocked.

"No, silly! The horse." Kate laughs. "Did you hear what she said? Priceless!"

Everyone laughs. I join in to cover my error and say, "I'm a grade-A doofus!"

It is that or kill everyone present.

John, Kate and I head back to the jeep. I stand beside the vehicle while they linger a few yards away. They glance in my direction. I can tell they wish to kiss each other goodbye but are inhibited by my presence. I should move.

I don't move.

John contents himself with a brief peck on her cheek.

"It's been great. Thanks."

"Come again. Anytime."

"I will."

John seems happy on the drive home.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asks me. "Because I had a great time."

"Me too," I lie.

"I saw you over at the stables. Learn anything about horses?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"They produce a lot of horseshit."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

FRIDAY EVENING

We are gathered in the school changing room about to go out into the gymnasium and perform our cheerleading routine. Everyone is nervous. Except me. Everyone is excited. Except me.

"Everybody all set?" Becca asks for the ninth time.

"Bex, you've asked that like a million times," one of the other girl's comments.

This is incorrect, it is actually nine times. But I do not point this out. No one likes a wiseass.

Kendra returns. She has been checking out Louise's team routine, which has just ended judging by the muffled applause and whistles we can hear.

"Shit, they killed, didn't they?" Becca asks, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt.

"Yes and no," Kendra says ambiguously. "They looked fabulous. Barbi doll clones basically. But the routine had no pizazz and they ran out of steam pretty quick. It was bump and grind from start to finish. They just waved their booty in the air. Subtle much! Principal Snyder didn't look too pleased. If we nail it we win. No question."

"Then we better make sure we nail it."

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We take our places in the gym to applause and catcalls. I take a moment to adjust my mouth into the death rictus grin required for cheerleading. Then the music begins.

Everything goes to plan. we are step-perfect. I take up position for the finale: the inverted pyramid. The girls climb up until the third tier is in place. My servo motors are operating at 100 per cent efficiency. I could easily support another five rows.

I look out into the audience. A number of pupils have brought their parents along. I spot John in the third row of bleachers. The person seated next to him has long red hair.

Kate Brewster.

I did not know she would be here. As I stare at them John takes her hand and places it in his lap. He leans over and whispers something in her ear. She smiles, laughs slightly, says something back. It is John's turn to smile and laugh.

WARNING

A glitch! My internal gimbals are malfunctioning. The pyramid starts to wobble.

In 1667, a human named Isaac Newton mathematically deduced the nature of gravity, demonstrating that the same force that pulls an apple to earth also keeps the moon in its orbit amd accounts for the revolutions of the planets.

The same is true for cheerleader pyramids.

My gimbals fail. Gravity obeys its immutable laws. Unbalanced, the girls come crashing to the ground. There are screams. Cries of pain. The audience rise to their feet. The music stops.

I stop.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

...117...118...119...120

My reboot is complete. With my sensors back online I find myself lying flat on my back on the gymnasium floor. Two men kneel beside me. One is Principal Snyder. The other I do not recognise.

"Miss Baum? Good, she's conscious. Lie still. Let the doctor treat you. That was a nasty tumble. It's fortunate we had a physician in the audience."

"I'm fine," I explain, sitting up.

"You're hardly fine. Half the girls fell on top of you. You're probably concussed."

"I'm not concussed."

The man kneeling beside me has his fingers pressed against the base of my neck. He frowns. "Odd. I can't find a pulse. I'm sorry but I think she's dead."

"Dead? Are you blind and deaf, man? She's sat up talking to us."

"She has no pulse. No pulse equals dead. It's one of the first things they teach you in Med school. That and how to pad out a patient invoice."

"What kind of doctor are you, anyway?"

"Well, technically I'm a proctologist, but---"

"A proctologist! Get your filthy hands off her!"

"Hey, I wear gloves, dammit! And I resent the implication. I am most meticulous about my personal hygiene."

"Quite. But---"

"I shower frequently and wear cologne. Expensive cologne, I might add."

"I'm sure you do. But---"

"A lot of people say I have a very pleasant aroma. And proctologists have feelings too, you know. How would you like your child coming home from school in tears because someone said his father was an ass botherer?"

"Sir! Please, just step away from my pupil. The last thing this school needs is a lawsuit alleging you molested an underage student."

"I'm not molesting anyone. I'm applying CPR. And FYI, proctology has a long and distinguished history and is not to be sniffed at. Er - I should probably rephrase that."

"I'm sure it does. Please, go and sit in the stands, sir. I'm sure you've been most helpful."

"I'm telling you this girl has no pulse!"

"I don't need a pulse," I inform him, shrugging him off and rising to my feet. I scan my surroundings. Several girls are being tended for minor injuries to ankles and wrists. I spot an unharmed Becca talking to Louise and the other Queen Bees.

"Did we win?" I ask the principal.

"Win? Miss Baum, this is scarcely the time to worry---"

"Did we win?" I insist.

"No. Frankly, in the circumstances, I decided Miss Vandervelt's team will represent the school. I feel----Hey, come back here!"

I ignore him and walk toward Becca. She stares directly at me, shakes her head, looking close to tears, then hurries away. Louise smirks.

"What did you tell her?" I demand to know.

"About our little deal. I knew a piece of white trash like you couldn't resist five grand."

"There was no deal."

"Ri-ght," Louise winks. "Because you collapsed the pyramid out of the kindness of your widdle heart."

"It was a gyro failure."

"And I know I promised not to tell, that it'd be our dirty widdle secret, but it just slipped out. Woops. My bad."

Louise smiles, showing her many white and perfectly even teeth. Hayley and Alexis openly laugh.

I advance on them. Louise suddenly squeals in alarm and tries to hide behind Hayley, who squeals in alarm and tries to hide behind Alexis, who squeals in alarm and tries to hide behind Louise, who finds herself facing me again. In this curious manner they back up until we reach the wall of the gynasium.

"I'm not scared of you," Louise insists.

"Then why are you trembling?"

"It's...cold in here."

"I don't believe you. It's a warm evening. Seventy-two degrees."

I pull my right arm back and ball my fist. Then---

"Cameron!"

John's voice. I hesitate then turn. He is alone. No Kate Brewster.

"Cameron, come with me. We're leaving. Now!"

I look each of the girls in the eyes. "I'll be back," I inform them.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John and I ride home in silence.

"I left my clothes back at school," I tell him.

"You can pick them up tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's a Saturday."

"Monday then. You're got more clothes at home." He sighs, then. "I think maybe it's time the cheerleading stopped."

"You're too late. We lost."

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I access the appropriate memory kernal, which is date stamped for easy retrieval. It is from several months previous. It provides the precise coordinates. My shovel then breaks the grass surface in the safe house yard. It is early evening. Dark. But my infra red makes everything as plain as day.

"Digging for buried treasure?" Sarah Connor asks with a smirk, observing me from the porch as the hole becomes deeper.

"Yes."

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Becca's house is dark. I park the jeep by the kerbside and cross the lawn. Two spiky plants called agave americana are either side of the front door. Under the glazed pot of the right hand plant is a spare key. I retrieve it and slide it into the lock.

The house is silent. I climb the stairs. Becca's room is last on the left. I push open the door.

The bed is empty. Then I see why. Becca is on the floor, her back against the dresser while she hugs her knees to her body. A veil of red hair obscures her face which is shiny with tears. She obviously knows I'm here because she declares in a tiny voice, "I didn't have a drink, you know. I wanted to but I didn't."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yeah, I bet you are. Judas bitch."

She looks up. Her face is still damp. I tilt my head, curious. "You are crying?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I...had something in my eye."

I drop the rucksack in front of her. "For you."

"A muddy sack? Gee, you shouldn't have. Really."

"Open it."

Becca sighs and drags it towards her. The clasp is rusty from the ground but functional. She wrinkles her nose as the mud stains her fingers then withdraws a wad of one hundred dollar bills. The rucksack is full of them.

"Money makes everything better," I explain.

"But... where did you get this?"

"It is my share of the money from Vegas."

"How much is here?"

"Half a million dollars."

"You didn't spend any? Boy, you really are Amish. But...I don't understand. If you had all this money why would you sell me out for Louise's measly five thou?"

I say nothing. She will work it out. Humans usually do. In the end.

"You wouldn't, of course. She lied to me. Of course she did; she's Louise. But then how did the pyramid collapse? It was fine in rehearsals."

"The future is not set."

Becca nods. I sit down opposite her, cross-legged. She takes the money out of the sack and stacks them like building bricks. She has nothing to say. Neither do I.

Sometimes words are unnecessary.

-000-

Lo-oo-ng hiatus on this, I know.

For latecomers and those with short memories, Cameron buried the half-mill in the yard after her trip to Vegas in an earlier chapter.

Probably one more update and that'll be it.

Thanks for reading.

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