Murder
Because they were still friends, she met Joel for lunch the next day. It was still warm, so they ate in the Autumn Garden on Level Twenty of Tower Two, where there were trees whose leaves actually turned. The maples were planted even before the crops on the farm floors. On a plaque pounded into one tree were the logos of the tree scientists and mental health agencies that had funded the forest.
“I’ve never been here before,” Joel said, peering up into the canopy.
“I used to come here on a lot of dates,” Hwa said, eyeing the skullcap that eyed them. Joel’s new bodyguard, probably. Well, a skullcap had gotten the best of her, so maybe it was for the best. “Other people’s dates, I mean. Jobs.”
Joel nodded. He kicked dry yellow leaves. “Are you going to go back to your old job?”
“Maybe,” Hwa said. “If they’ll take me.”
Joel appeared to be listening to something. Síofra, probably. Hwa stopped herself from asking about it. Joel shook his head softly, and held up two tiffin boxes. “I had our chef make us lunch.”
Hwa smiled. “Thanks.”
“I made sure yours had the cauliflower rice,” he said. “I’m still supposed to eat grains, sometimes.”
“You’re still growing,” Hwa said. “That’s okay.”
Joel set things out. Hwa moved to help him, but he said something about her arm and waved her away. Evidently, he’d had the chef make something Korean: tofu stew with zucchini and shrimp. “I thought you’d want something more … familiar,” Joel said.
“Trust me, Joel, my mom never made food like this,” Hwa said. “But thanks. It’s great.”
“What about your dad?” Joel asked.
Hwa shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never met him. I don’t even know if he still lives on the rig. I asked Sunny once, but she said she couldn’t tell me. My bet is she doesn’t know.”
“So your brother was like your dad?”
Hwa felt the soup go down the wrong pipe. She coughed. “Aye. Kinda. Little bit. Maybe.” She sipped hard at a thermos of iced tea. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Do you need me to get your things out of your locker? Because I already asked one of the teachers how—”
“Joel.” Hwa gave him a Medusa stare. He quieted. For a moment, she focused on the sound of leaves quietly falling, and the drone of windmills outside, and the ever-present, almost unnoticeable wash of the Atlantic below. She had to do this. Had to. No other choice. Fuck the Lynches, anyway. “Turn your ears off,” she said. “I need to talk to you in private.”
Joel’s gaze jerked like a fish on a hook. He was listening to someone else. Finally, he nodded. He tapped a complicated sequence on the skin around his ear. “Daniel says it’s okay.”
Hwa waited until the skullcap had drifted to the other side of the arboretum. “Joel, you know the test wasn’t supposed to have live rounds, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It was an accident. I’m really sorry.” He swallowed hard. “Hwa, I’m really sorry, it’s all my fault, if you hadn’t—”
“Shut up,” Hwa said, and when he flinched, she added, “quit it with that shit. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. And you didn’t switch the rounds.”
She took hold of his shoulder. “But someone did. And someone is after you.”
Joel waited for a moment, processing, then burst out laughing. He folded in on himself, clutching his ribs and snickering. He fell back in the crunching leaves. Hwa had to quickly rescue the soup from his outstretched legs.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, finally.
“Your face,” he said.
Hwa recoiled. “Oh.”
“No, not like that!” Joel sat up. “Not like that. I mean how serious your face was.” He tried to do an impression of her, and looked like an old mask from a pantomime drama. “People threaten me all the time. Or, anyway, they threaten the family all the time. This was just a mistake! And everyone associated with it has already been fired.”
The hairs on Hwa’s arms rose. “Aye?”
“Aye,” Joel said, rolling his eyes. “Come on. You got shot. They fired everyone.”
Hwa doubted that had anything to do with her being shot, and more to do with Zachariah Lynch cleaning house. He knew about the death threats, and Joel didn’t. “Joel, I’ve seen the threats.”
“Of course you have. You’re my bodyguard. Or you used to be.”
“No, I mean, I’ve seen specific threats. Against you. Against your life. Death threats. Scary ones.”
Joel frowned. He poked at his food. “But … that doesn’t make any sense. Why…”
“Your dad told me not to tell you. I had to sign—”
“Why would you leave?” Joel looked up and stared at her with bright eyes. “If someone was really after me, why would you quit?”