Joan the Made (Throwbacks Series, Book 1)

Chapter 8

The rest of the week is filled with nonstop activity as I prepare to leave home for Seattle Secondary. Throwbacks aren't given the summer off after they graduate, like Evolved students are entitled to before starting college.

I have a week to pack my entire life into a couple of suitcases and buy the required supplies for the Seattle Secondary Theater program. Mom is in heaven, purchasing my makeup kit, downloading the required reading, and updating my wardrobe—while I fight her all the way, since I know it's out of our budget, and I'll leave all this stuff behind in a few months when I board a plane to Paris.

My parents and Addie cry when the autonomous car from my new school comes to pick me up on Sunday evening. I'll have one night to settle into a brand-new life before training begins.

"If you need anything, call me and I'll bring it right over," Mom says, her voice cracking a little.

"We love you," Dad adds, his eyes briefly flickering to mine, like prolonged eye contact would be too painful.

"Thanks."

A slightly shabby car pulls into our driveway, and the door and trunk pop open. I give Addie one last hug and then lug my bags into the waiting car.

Inside, the nav screen next to my seat displays my route to a building in Capitol Hill. At least the school is in a decent part of Seattle, away from the filth of White Center. I confirm the destination, and the car silently slides out of the driveway. Mom and Dad wave until the car is out of view, but it's Addie's beloved face that holds my attention until we turn the corner and my old house and life are out of sight.

Several miles later, the car stops in front of a four-story concrete building in an architectural style that was probably popular around the time that the wheel was invented. The sides are pockmarked with deep gouges, and a spiderweb of cracks in the concrete makes the shaky structure look like it could be blown down with one good huff by the Big Bad Wolf.

With a deep breath, I get out of the car and sling my vintage leather backpack over my shoulder. There are two more heavy suitcases in the trunk that Mom packed for me.

As soon as I grab the bags and close the trunk, the car takes off, presumably to pick up the next student.

Inside, the lobby of the dorm is buzzing with energy. I'm not one of those girls who goes ape shit at celebrity sightings, but I'm a little starstruck as I recognize face after face. The students attending Seattle Secondary are not typical Throwbacks. Common clone types like Macs and Mollys are given jobs as housekeepers, janitors, and construction workers—tasks that the Evolved population think are beneath them.

But when it comes to entertainment, the Evolved like to be dazzled by the best entertainers and most fascinating figures from history that can possibly be cloned for their viewing pleasure.

Mozart and John Lennon clones have a heated debate in one corner, and a Tupac Shakur begs his mom to leave. A Bruce Lee goes red in the face as he struggles to drag his stuff over to the elevators.

A tablet is embedded in the far wall. It's the one nod to modernity in a room filled with a couple of ancient couches, a broken vending machine, and some rickety wooden desks. The tablet asks for my fingerprint and retinal scan, and then displays my room assignment. After my identity is confirmed, my phone pings, displaying my class schedule.

The Bruce Lee is gone by the time I'm ready to take the elevator up to my room, but another girl with dark skin, neatly braided hair, and searching brown eyes evaluates me as we wait for the creaky elevator to return to the lobby.

"I'm Joan. Looks like you're nearly as thrilled to be here as I am."

She's stony-faced as she reaches for the hand I've stuck out for her to shake. "I'm Harriet."