The Rebel Code

Chapter Nineteen

On Friday afternoon, John lets Larry take me to the immersive action theater. No one ever actually says the word "date," but I feel like John knows. He's seen the way Larry looks at me, and there's no point in denying anything. Mo raises her eyebrows when she sees me actually brushing and styling my hair in what feels like ages, but doesn't tease me. I feel that if things were different, if we were still back in Port Carina, John would have more to say about me going out with a boy for the first time in my life—the first time he's known about, anyway, if I count the cheesecake trip. I almost wish he'd give me a hard time, or say something embarrassing, to give the whole thing a feel of the normalcy I miss so much. But he simply tells us to be careful, to keep our heads down and avoid security in case they start asking for ID.

I guess I've been out of the loop for a while, because there are no superhero movies playing whatsoever. Now, everything's either romance or horror thrillers. Even though we're technically on a date, one look from Larry confirms my suspicion that neither of us are in the mood to watch Heart Full of Stars 2 or The Accidental Bride. I get two tickets for the week's thriller instead, and we order snacks and sit down to watch Doomsday Below the Waves.

"I can't believe you actually lived there," says Larry as we leave the theater. "Is Cape Town really that creepy?"

"What? No way. They just made it feel that way with the music. And we did not have that many sharks." I shudder, remembering a particularly suspenseful scene where the biggest of the evil sharks stalked some surfers.

"Did you ever see sharks that big?" asks Larry.

"I don't remember seeing any sharks, but I don't think they looked like that. Sharks don't get that big."

"The scientists said they grew it in a lab and it escaped, so it could," he points out.

We argue about shark anatomy all the way back to the apartment. I say hi to Natcha as I pass by her dance group, and we run up the back stairs. But when I open our front door, everything has changed.

There are bags. Big bags. Small bags. Bags with pictures on them and little foil bags labeled with names of meals. The bags are all over our living room, and there's Atticus in the middle of it all, counting the bags. Link is watching it all with a cup of coffee.

"Hey Atticus," I say. "What's all this?"

"Supplies," says Atticus plainly. "John purchased them this afternoon."

"Supplies for what?"

Before he can answer, John bursts into the room carrying yet another random thing. He smiles at me and throws the bundle onto the couch. I look closer at the label, out of curiosity. It's a sleeping bag. My heart leaps in my chest as I consider what this could mean.

"John," I gasp. "What's going on? Are we leaving? Did you get news from Shandi?"

"What? No. I don't expect anything from Shandi for a while," he says nonchalantly. "I'm just tired. I'm tired of being crammed into this tiny apartment, and it's doing nothing for my morale. It's all these tests for the algorithm." He sighs deeply, stretching his arms over his head. "No, I need a break or my brain is going to fry, so we're going to the nature reserve just north of here."

Larry's jaw drops. "Wait. Mr. Bekker, do you mean out of the mall?"

"Yeah. Are you guys up for a weekend of roughing it, as they say? I mean, you don't get a choice. I've already bought the tents and everything."

"Of course!" I say quickly, almost too stunned to speak.

I can't remember the last time I packed for something, knowing that I'd be coming back and that it was only temporary. I have to repress my instincts to shove everything into my bag in a hurry. It's only for two days. Two whole days outside of the mall, with fresh air and sun and open sky. It's a miniscule amount of time to enjoy something so incredibly big.