Chapter 6

2273

"I found a way to disable the security camera next to that door in the lower wing I told you about. Once it's off, we should be able to open it with the override code. Want to check it out?"

Amata paused. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Well, yeah," Lydia said. "It's just, we haven't done anything for a while, and I've been trying to get through that door forever..."

"I don't know if we should do that stuff anymore, Lydia."

She frowned. "What? Why?"

"I just don't know if it's such a good idea."

"You were the one who started sneaking around and hacking doors in the first place, and now you don't want to?"

"That was a long time ago," Amata said quickly. "I mean, I thought we were done with that. We're too old to be that irresponsible. We can't just go around breaking all the rules like they don't mean anything. It's bad for everyone in the vault."

Lydia didn't know what to say. She and Amata had never had much in common, but exploring was something they'd always done together. They wouldn't have much to talk about if not for that one shared interest.

"But I was going to head down to the library, if you want to come," Amata added hopefully. "I was thinking of rereading that poetry anthology."

"No thanks."

"Well...we should do something sometime. I never see you anymore."

"Yeah, Lydia replied. "Sometime." Amata left, and Lydia shut the door behind her.

They lived in a vault. They saw each other enough. Here, you saw everyone enough. But it was true, they never really did things together anymore. Lydia was beginning to think that this was the age when people started to realize that a lot of the time, the only reason they remained with their friends was because there wasn't anyone else available.

She had just sat back down when Amata came back and knocked again. Tap tap-tap tap-tap. With a small sigh, she went to the door and opened it again. Instead of Amata, she saw a leather jacket. Then it punched her in the face.

She recoiled, and before she could recover, she was in a headlock. "Butch! Get off!"

"Is your dad here?" he asked, pulling her inside. He smelled very strongly of some flowery cologne.

"Fuck off," she snarled, pulling at his arm ineffectively as he hit the release to shut the door. He let go of her, and she came up with her fists in front of her.

"Don't worry, I'm not really gonna beat you up. That was just in case anyone was looking."

"Oh, thanks," Lydia spat.

"No biggie," he said magnanimously, straightening his jacket.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Just tell me what you want."

Butch's voice was suddenly less confident. "I'm failing class."

"So? What else is new?"

"I mean I haven't passed any tests this year. If I don't get 60% on the one on Thursday, they're gonna hold me back and I'll have to be in class with the little kids."

"Maybe you should stay back. You obviously haven't learned anything in class so far."

"Shut up! I ain't going to class with a bunch of little kids. So you need to help me."

"Why? Paul and Wally are doing fine. Ask them for help."

"Come on," he protested. "I can't ask them. I can handle my own problems, anyway."

"How is asking me handling it yourself?"

"It's different. You wouldn't get it."

Lydia thought she did get it. He didn't want to look stupid or weak to his friends. It was different if he asked her, because then he was coercing someone rather than asking for kindness from them.

"Besides, you get the best grades in class, 'cept for Amata, and I ain't asking that daddy's-girl."

She knew it would be a lot easier, and probably less painful, to just do it. "Alright...so...you want me to help you study...?"

"Pft, no." He made a face as though it were the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. " Just give me the answers to the test."

"Oh." Of course. That sounded a lot less weird. "Fine, whatever."

He looked vaguely surprised. "You'll do it? You better not mess it up!"

Now he looked a little nervous. He was taking quite a risk, she supposed. She almost smiled at the thought of hanging him out to dry on the day of the test. Oh how the class would laugh, seeing him go to class with the kids five years younger than them.

But she knew she wouldn't. Not even to him. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Now get out of my room."

"I was just about to leave," he said, backing out the door.

"Hey, Butch?" Lydia said as he crossed the threshold.

"Yeah?"

"You smell like a girl." She shut the door and locked it.

On the day of the test, Butch was oddly quiet when he sat down behind Lydia. The flowery cologne he'd been wearing previously had mysteriously disappeared.

Mr. Brotch handed out the tests, and Lydia quickly began filling in answers. She could hear Butch tapping his pen against his desk. When she finished, she took a small scrap of paper and scribbled each answer one after another. They were all multiple choice. When Mr. Brotch turned away, she dropped her hand, with the paper in it, to her side where Butch could see it. The paper was immediately snatched away.

The next week, Mr. Brotch returned the tests. As he was explaining some of the commonly missed questions, something jabbed her in the back of the head. She ignored it, since that happened fairly often. But then there came three more hard jabs, accompanied by a loud whisper.

"Lydia!"

She turned, and Butch was holding his test up angrily. "I got a D-plus! You gave me a bunch of wrong answers!"

"So? You passed," she whispered back.

"You're trying to make me look dumb!" he accused.

"Like I'd have to try to do that," she sneered. Before he could hit her again, she continued, "Don't you think it'd be a little suspicious if your scores suddenly went from forty to ninety percent?"

He looked thoughtfully at his test. "Oh yeah." He looked up at her and smiled—a genuine smile, not the arrogant but forced one he usually wore. It was rare, she thought, to see him show a real emotion other than schadenfreude, but now his relief was obvious. "Thanks."

She smiled back faintly despite herself, and turned to face the board.

A few minutes later, she felt his pen poking the back of her head again. She turned to see what he wanted now. He was smiling again. Only now, it was his 'what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it?' smile, and Lydia quickly realized that this wasn't the type of poking that meant to get her attention. She sighed and stared at the board as Mr. Brotch continued to talk and Butch continued to poke.