Gotta B Read online

  Much earlier, before anyone arrived, Petra and Jennie had checked out Petra’s various online locations. There were vicious messages everywhere. Although she’d been furious rather than distressed to begin with, the more Petra thought about the sheer malice behind the attacks, the more upset she became.

  Jennie had said, ‘Did you hear about that girl who committed suicide the other day after something like this?’

  ‘Get real! I’m not going to kill myself over a bunch of nasty messages.’

  ‘I know you’re not. You’re way too tough.’ Jennie’s smile faded as she added, ‘Thank God Rick wasn’t the target. Something like this would really get to him.’

  ‘Dodder’s behind it,’ said Petra, ‘so Rick’s safe. She’d never pick on him.’

  ‘You haven’t got any proof that Maryann’s the one.’

  Petra ignored that. ‘You know she’s in my game design class, so she’ll be here tonight. I’m dying to give it to her the moment she walks through the door.’

  Jennie looked alarmed. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’ When Petra’s militant expression didn’t change, Jennie went on. ‘Why not wait and see what Mike thinks?’

  Always reliable, Mike arrived early, as he’d promised. He’d winced at the malicious words on the screen, then said, ‘Any idea who’s behind this?’

  ‘Petra’s convinced it’s Maryann Dodd,’ said Jennie. ‘She’s thinking of fronting up to her tonight.’

  ‘Dodder’s never liked me,’ Petra declared, adding, ‘She’s such a bitch.’

  ‘So what happens if you accuse her?’ Mike had asked. ‘You can’t prove it’s Maryann and believe me, she’s not going to break down and confess. Besides, you don’t know for sure who’s behind it.’ He’d given Petra a warm hug. ‘My take on it? Do your best to ignore the whole thing. If you act like nothing’s happened, you win, because it looks like they haven’t got to you.’

  Petra glanced around the crowded room. Maryann Dodd had just swept in, creating her usual mini-commotion. Petra had to stop herself from marching over and ripping into her. Petra knew Mike’s suggestion was good advice, but she wasn’t sure she could follow it. Ignore her, she said to herself.

  Her gaze rested on Mike, who was talking with Tal, Allyx and Jennie. Mike was nice. Too nice. So nice he was boring. But he was a sweet guy, considerate and dependable, and Petra didn’t want to hurt him.

  Inside her head a little voice said, Hah! You’d dump him in a minute if Tal became available.

  She told herself that wasn’t true, but she had to admit that Tal was special to her and had been for years. They’d been close friends all this time, with never a hint of anything romantic between them. And now he was with Allyx, who Petra liked a lot. Even if she was a blue-eyed blonde who was, if Petra had to be ruthlessly honest, both thinner and better looking than she was.

  Trying to be detached, she compared Mike and Tal to each other. Tal had sandy-coloured hair, a long face and a wiry runner’s body; dark-haired Mike was carrying a little extra weight, and preferred to watch sports rather than participate. Mike was shorter, but handsome. Tal was –

  ‘Hey, Petra, it’s like, wow! I mean, look at this home theatre set-up. It’s got to be the best I’ve ever seen.’

  She spun around to find Maryann smiling sweetly at her, without even a hint of a smirk on her face.

  Petra reminded herself that there was a faint possibility that Dodder wasn’t responsible for the attack. She resisted the temptation to extinguish the saccharine smile with a sharp slap, instead saying vaguely, ‘Oh, hi, Maryann.’

  ‘This entertainment centre must have cost a fortune,’ said Maryann in admiring tones.

  She’s playing nice because she wants something, Petra thought. Aloud she said, ‘I suppose.’

  Petra’s parents had spared no expense in setting up the entertainment centre to professional standard. One half of the spacious area was for socialising, the other for viewing. All the various pieces of electronic equipment and the satellite feed, plus sound and lighting, were controlled from an elaborate touch screen console. Petra had mastered the confusion of options long before her dad and mum had, which made her wonder if there wasn’t something in the idea that her generation was different.

  ‘I’m counting on you to help me with something,’ said Maryann, leaning closer and dropping her voice to a confidential whisper.

  ‘Like what?’

  Maryann looked around to check no one was close enough to overhear, then murmured, ‘I heard you had smarts. I’d like to buy them from you.’

  Smarts was slang for illicit drugs that improved attention and focus. They worked far more spectacularly than earlier mental enhancers, such as the legal drugs originally prescribed for attention deficit disorder.

  ‘You heard wrong.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Petra! I can pay you heaps.’

  No way would Petra admit it to anyone, especially Maryann Dodd, but she did have access to smarts. Her dad had given her a supply, saying the pills would give her an edge academically.

  ‘But, Dad,’ she’d protested, ‘I’d hate anyone to think I needed pills to do well.’

  ‘Don’t think the others aren’t taking something,’ he’d said. ‘This is just levelling the playing field.’ He’d added as a clincher, ‘You know how important it is to your mother and me that you succeed.’

  She’d taken smarts a couple of times before important tests, and had thought they helped a bit, but mostly her results were good anyway, plus the school punishment for being caught using smarts was severe, so Petra still had most of the supply hidden in her room.

  She had to admit that there was another reason she hadn’t continued to use them – it was Petra’s small, private rebellion against her father’s control of her life.

  She realised that Maryann was smiling ingratiatingly at her. ‘Please, Petra. I know you can help me. It’s really, really important.’

  ‘Sorry, you’re out of luck. And I haven’t a clue where you’d get any.’

  Maryann’s smile abruptly vanished. ‘I won’t forget this,’ she said, her pretty face suddenly mean.

  ‘Wassup?’ said Mike, appearing unexpectedly.

  ‘Nothing,’ Maryann snapped.

  David joined them. ‘When do we get to play this game of yours?’ he asked Petra. ‘Knowing you and Allyx, I’m betting it’ll have babes blasting the hell out of the bad guys. Am I right?’

  ‘We’ll find out as soon as Rick gets here,’ said Mike. ‘He’s been visiting his grandfather in hospital.’

  Maryann’s sullen expression lightened at the mention of Rick’s name. Pointedly ignoring Petra, she said to the boys, ‘I’ve heard Rick’s a disconnect. What happened?’

  David said curtly, ‘A stupid computer glitch, that’s all. He’ll be reconnected soon.’

  ‘I might be able to pull some strings. I know people.’

  David rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah? Like who?’

  Maryann’s long brown hair described a graceful arc as she performed her routine hair toss. ‘Waste of my time telling you the names,’ she said with a sneer, ‘since they wouldn’t mean a thing to someone like you.’

  ‘The sooner we can get Rick reconnected the better,’ said Mike. ‘We need him for our Worldstrider team.’

  Something about Maryann’s hair tossing gesture had been nagging at Petra. Now that Mike had mentioned the game the Five had been playing as a team, it all clicked into place.

  ‘Aha!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve got it! You’re Princess Avenger in Worldstrider III. Your avatar keeps tossing her hair exactly the way you just did.’

  David gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You mean Princess Avenger in the sexy pink leather outfit? That’s Maryann? Get outta here!’

  ‘Now we know why Princess Avenger is always trying to hook up with Rick’s avatar,’ Petra said with a knowing smile.

  Petra couldn’t remember ever seeing Maryann blush before, but her cheeks were now bright red. ‘Don’t be so s
tupid,’ she spluttered.

  ‘Hey, guys,’ David called over to Tal, Allyx and Jennie. ‘Guess who’s Princess Avenger in Worldstrider?’ He jabbed a finger in Maryann’s direction. ‘Here she is. Who knew?’

  ‘Rick’s arrived,’ said Mike.

  Most people seemed to have heard Rick had been disconnected, because he was immediately bombarded with questions.

  Now the attention was off her, Maryann shot Petra a look of pure malice. ‘You’ll be so sorry you did that,’ she hissed, before stalking off to join Kimba Nash, a particularly spiteful member of her clique.

  Although he looked tired, Rick seemed to Petra to be making a real effort to be cheerful as he answered his questioners. ‘Why am I a disconnect? Haven’t got a clue. No way did I do anything wrong, it just suddenly happened. And yes, it sucks to be shut out from everything.’

  ‘When will you be reconnected?’ someone asked.

  ‘Commdat says it’ll take a week to put me back on line.’

  ‘A week!’ exclaimed George Everett. He was pudgy and pale, as though he spent most of his time indoors. His heavy-framed specs were always sliding down his nose, so he was forever pushing them back. Tonight he wore baggy brown shorts and a purple T-shirt proclaiming that he was ‘CyberJock’. In Petra’s opinion, George was so totally geeky he was cool.

  ‘Jeez!’ George went on in heartfelt tones, ‘I couldn’t survive even a day.’

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  ‘I don’t have any say in how long it takes,’ said Rick, his cheery attitude fraying. ‘Commdat decides who gets connected right away and who doesn’t.’

  ‘Didn’t you kick up a fuss? I would’ve,’ declared Kimba.

  ‘I tried. It was no good.’

  Seeing that Rick was starting to wilt, Petra glanced over at Allyx, who took the hint and announced loudly, ‘Everyone to their seats for the first showing of our stunning video, The Making of BrawnBlasters.’

  ‘When do we get to download your game?’ George asked.

  He already had his communicator out, a unique device he’d constructed himself using an iZod as a base. Petra suspected he was illegally connected to Farront’s network, as all the communication companies had outlawed any devices that didn’t conform to their technical standards.

  ‘After you sit through our excellent video,’ Petra said.

  George looked at her suspiciously. ‘How long does it run? Once you girls start hogging the camera, it could be hours.’

  ‘You’re just bitter because we finished before anyone else in the class,’ said Petra. ‘So what is happening with your War of the Wolts?’

  George scowled. ‘Do you need to ask? Have you ever tried working with Maryann? If she isn’t yapping on her iZod, she’s non-stop texting, leaving me to do pretty well everything. It drives me mad. She’d ace the assignment if she could be bothered trying.’ Being George, he then returned like a terrier to his original question. ‘How long is the video?’

  ‘You were right,’ said Petra. ‘It is hours. How did you guess?’

  Allyx laughed. ‘Relax, George. It’s more like ten minutes.’

  Petra took her place at the central control console, dimmed the lights and projected a glowing, half-size hologram of Allyx, creating the illusion that the diminutive figure was standing on the platform beneath the video screen.

  As Allyx’s hologram introduced the steps required to design a video game, the screen showed images of Petra and Allyx working to accomplish each one.

  Watching the video for what seemed the hundredth time, Petra was amazed she and Allyx had ever finished the project. It had been much more demanding than she’d expected. She and Allyx had had to come up with a viable concept, then devise a storyline, invent characters, write dialogue, map out the series of digital scenes in which the characters would appear, choreograph the action, select suitable background music and, with guidance from the instructor, write the software to bring their fantasy world to life.

  When the lights came up, David said with a hoot, ‘Thank God I didn’t make it into game design! It’s too much like hard work.’

  Rick, who was able to watch the video because it was shown on an open screen with no requirement for audience identification, said, ‘Who cares if it’s hard work? Designing games is so cool. I wish I’d got into the class.’

  George had his modified iZod at the ready. ‘Okay, so where’s BrawnBlasters?’

  ‘Coming right up,’ said Petra, who had set up the entertainment centre to allow everyone to wirelessly download the game to their comms.

  ‘Remember, professional games have hundreds of people working on them. BrawnBlasters had only two, me and Petra.’

  It was soon obvious to Petra that Rick was feeling the odd one out. While the others laughed, traded comments or were caught up in the game, peering intently into the screens of their comms, Rick shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned casually against the wall, trying to give the impression he didn’t mind being excluded from all the fun.

  Petra felt sorry him, and so, apparently, did Maryann. Petra overheard her say earnestly to Rick, ‘It’s just so unfair that you’re a disconnect.’

  Could it be that Dodder had a nice side Petra had never suspected existed? The answer to this unspoken question came almost immediately.

  ‘Like, you’re not missing a thing, Rick. The video was okay, I suppose, but the game –’ Maryann made a face – ‘is pretty much a waste of time. Oh, I’m sure Petra and Allyx did their best, but …’ She shrugged.

  ‘That’s just your opinion,’ said Rick, obviously annoyed. ‘You haven’t even had time to look at it properly.’

  Maryann backed off immediately. ‘You’re right. It was just the impression I got. Maybe I didn’t really give it a fair go.’

  Petra grinned to herself. This was an evening of firsts as far as Dodder was concerned. Until she had been revealed as Princess Avenger, Petra had never seen Maryann mortified. And now Petra had witnessed the near impossible, Maryann admitting she could be wrong.

  Petra’s parents were still at Garden Stuff. Rosa, playing the role of surrogate mother, announced that it was time for everyone to go home.

  Jennie and Petra looked for Rick to ask how his grandfather was. ‘There he is,’ said Petra, ‘talking with George.’

  Rick abruptly broke off his conversation when they approached.

  ‘What did you think of BrawnBlasters?’ Petra asked George.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said, which was high praise for him. To Rick he said, ‘I’m gone. Get back to you later.’

  ‘What’s that all about?’ Jennie asked once George was out of earshot.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It must be something,’ she persisted.

  It was clear Rick wasn’t going to elaborate, so Petra asked, ‘What’s the latest on your granddad?’

  ‘No change. He’s still unconscious.’

  Jennie took his hand. ‘Rick, if there’s anything we can do, just ask.’

  Looking rather embarrassed, he mumbled, ‘Okay, thanks.’

  Rosa had been performing her role as human sheepdog so efficiently that the room was almost empty. Maryann, accompanied by Kimba, lingered to remark to Petra, ‘I didn’t like to mention it before, with everyone here, but it’s quite shocking what’s on the web about you.’

  ‘Real nasty,’ Kimba’s nasal voice chimed in. She had an ongoing sinus problem, and although she was good looking, she also sniffed constantly, which Petra found extremely irritating.

  Maryann shook her head sorrowfully. ‘There must be hundreds, maybe thousands of messages. And did you know there’s a new site, GetPetra? It has lots about your music video.’

  ‘Real nasty,’ Kimba said again, between sniffs.

  ‘Must you sniff every few seconds?’

  Insulted, Kimba glared at Petra. ‘I can’t help it. My allergies –’ She broke off to take out a tissue and blow her nose hard.

  Ignoring this, Maryann stayed on subject. ‘Of cou
rse they’re all lies, Petra, but not everybody knows that. Awful what people will believe. You must be so upset.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me,’ said Petra. ‘I mean, anyone who’d do that kind of thing –’ she paused to give Maryann a significant look – ‘has got to be a total, utter loser. So pathetic.’

  SEVEN

  Tal intended to sleep in on Saturday morning, but his mother shook him awake far too early. ‘Rise and shine, kiddo. I could use some help setting up the barbecue.’

  ‘It’s the crack of dawn,’ he moaned, but she’d already set off down the stairs. He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and joined her in the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve marked the things you can help me with.’ Grace put down her toast and handed him a to-do list.

  ‘This is way over the top,’ Tal said, eyeing it. ‘It’s just a barbecue.’

  She frowned at him. ‘It’s an opportunity for Audrey to see me in a social setting. Everything has to run smoothly. Nothing can go wrong.’

  ‘What could go wrong? The forecast’s for a perfect spring day, the backyard and the new garden furniture look great, and last weekend I checked out the barbecue and everything’s working okay.’

  ‘There’s always something. Maybe the mix of people won’t work. I couldn’t stand it if there was an argument over something stupid.’

  ‘You’d rather an argument over something intelligent?’

  ‘This isn’t the time to be funny,’ she snapped.

  ‘Oh, Mum!’

  With a reluctant smile, she said, ‘Maybe I am overreacting a little.’

  In Tal’s opinion she was overreacting big time. He mentally ran through the guest list. In the position of honour at the top was his mother’s boss, Audrey Farront. She’d be accompanied by one of her senior executives at Farront International, a guy called Joe Villabona, who was new to the company.

  Of course Rob Anderson would be there – that went without saying. Also invited were Tal’s uncle Ian and his wife Wendy. His mother’s brother was a good choice, one of those good-natured individuals who gets on well with almost everyone – even if he could drive you mad with his sudden enthusiasms for various gadgets. Aunt Wendy was extra nice too, although Tal was always amused when she gave her loud, hiccupping laugh. It was quite a surprise for people who’d never heard it before.