Chapter 3: Ludd Patrol

This meeting could’ve been an email. I’m in the conference room with other McKinsey staffers, but none of them want to acknowledge my existence. Apparently, an intern had been slotted for this position, and that’s why everyone hates me—they don’t like that I’ve taken a job they thought rightly belonged to someone else. But I don’t care. Even if I got this job because of some imaginary ties to the ludd community that McKinsey thinks I have, I know I’m just as qualified to be here as anyone else.

The meeting seems to be wrapping up, and I’m anxious to leave. My coworkers are annoying me, and I want to get back to work so I can show them just how much I actually belong here. Most of the meeting has been McKinsey talking, but now he looks around the room, as if finally realizing other people are here.

“Okay,” he says, and I settle back into my chair. I can tell by his tone that we aren’t about to be dismissed. “Now that my portion’s covered, let’s open it up. What’s happening in Capital City that needs to be addressed?” He looks over at me and smiles. “I like to end our weekly staff meeting with some ideas from the team about what we should focus on. Helps me keep my finger on the city’s pulse.”

A pale man with long red hair raises his hand, and McKinsey nods in his direction. The man clears his throat and starts talking about a neighborhood that’s been complaining about construction in a nearby park. Once he’s finished, a woman with thick braids goes on about public schoolteachers wanting higher wages. With each suggestion, Kelly taps furiously on her tablet.

Finally, the room grows quiet, and I’m ready to leave when McKinsey says my name.

“What about you, Selene? You haven’t said a word. Any ideas?” I don’t like being put on the spot, and I wish he would’ve given me some time to think of a response.

I want to tell him I don’t have any ideas, but I can feel my coworkers staring at me, wanting me to make a fool of myself. Wanting me to prove that their disdain is justified.

And I refuse to do that. So I mention the most recent Capital City concern I’ve heard.

“There are rumors that ludds are going missing,” I say, making sure my voice is strong and loud. I realize the mistake I’ve made—mentioning ludds to someone who sees me as the perfect ludd spokesperson—but maybe it’ll make McKinsey take me more seriously. Maybe he’ll see me as beneficial in a way his other employees aren’t.

A few people in the room chuckle, but McKinsey leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his expression serious.

“What do you mean?” McKinsey asks. I take a moment to gather myself.

“Well,” I begin, “there’s a homeless ludd who’s always outside City Hall, but he hasn’t been there at all this week.” I tell him about this instead of about my brother because I’m ashamed that he’s a ludd. That realization cuts through me, but I ignore it. I can deal with that later.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” the redhead says, “ludds go missing all the time. He’s probably just panhandling somewhere else.”

“Besides,” says a woman to my left, “is it really so bad if a few ludds go missing? Hasn’t the city been trying to relocate them away from City Hall for a while now?” A third person is about to speak up, eager to discredit my idea, but McKinsey shushes the room.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “Everyone in this city is important, whether they’ve joined the Collective or not. Smith Capital founded this city on the idea that, regardless of who we are, we’re better together. The Collective is one way of proving that, but just because someone doesn’t want to join it doesn’t mean they aren’t valuable.” I appreciate McKinsey siding with me, but I know it won’t make me any friends in the office.

McKinsey turns back to me. “You’re from the ludd community, Selene. What do you think is happening?” I bristle at his words, but I answer as carefully as I can.

“I joined the Collective when I turned eighteen,” I begin, “so I don’t know. I’ve just heard that ludds are going missing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the redhead says. “No one’s kidnapping ludds. And if they wanted to be found, they should’ve joined the Collective.”

“I didn’t say ludds were being kidnapped,” I correct him in my this-customer-is-an-idiot-but-I-have-to-be-polite voice. “I said they were going missing.” The redhead opens his mouth but Kelly interjects.

“How about,” she begins, turning to McKinsey, “we have Selene look into this for us since she’s clearly passionate about it. We can give her a few days to dig around and see what she finds, and then she can report back. Does that sound good?” McKinsey’s face lights up, and I know I’m screwed. I didn’t want to be the posterchild for ludd engagement; I just wanted to answer his question.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” he says with another one of his loud claps. “That’s why I pay you the big bucks, Kelly.” He laughs then turns to me. “Can you do that?” he asks. “Can you look into that for us?” I force a smile and nod.

“Of course,” I respond. “My pleasure.” McKinsey thanks everyone in the room, and we all stand up to leave.

Looks like I’ll be seeing Leo again sooner than I thought.

* * *

I just finished eating dinner when I hear the knock at my door. I’d asked Leo to come visit me tonight because I knew I’d be at work late, and I didn’t feel like making the trek down to Baker. He’d agreed to come and, as usual, was right on time. I toss my dirty plate into the sink and head to the front door. My apartment is small, and the open concept doesn’t really help with that. It makes it all feel like one room—the kitchen, dining room, and living room all crammed together in one space.

I open the door and greet Leo with a hug before he can push me away. He wraps his arms around me loosely then steps inside, taking his shoes off before crossing into the rest of my apartment. He smells good and is dressed in a fitted gray shirt and black jeans. I motion for him to sit on the couch, and I take the chair to his left. Leo has only been to my apartment once or twice before. I can’t even remember the last time he was here.

“You hungry?” I ask, not sure where to start. He shakes his head.

“No, I’m meeting up with some friends after this.” He doesn’t offer any other details. He’s stiff on the couch, and I can tell he’s still angry about our conversation at the cemetery. He’s not great at hiding his emotions. He’s not great at controlling them, either.

“So, you know how I said McKinsey wants to help the ludds?” Leo nods, his back ramrod straight. He looks as if just being here is painful, and I wish we could talk about it. But I push on.

“Well, I told him about what you said, and he asked me to get to the bottom of it.” Leo’s eyebrows scrunch together, and he looks at me with his head cocked sideways. This obviously wasn’t what he thought I was going to tell him. He probably thought this was another attempt to get him to join the Collective.

“You told him what I said?” he asks. I nod. I hadn’t mentioned him exactly, but close enough. “And he specifically said he wants to help figure out why ludds are going missing?”

“Yes,” I say, annoyed at how surprised he sounds. “I told you, Leo: McKinsey wants to help.” Leo bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks, a habit he’s had since I can remember. It brings me back to when we were younger, to when things weren’t as messed up between us as they are now.

“So why’d you call me? Just to tell me he’s one of the good ones?” He says the last phrase with a mocking tone, and I bite back my frustration.

“That,” I say, “and also that I need your help. If I’m going to figure out what’s happening, I need an in with the ludds.” He bites his cheek and drums his fingers against his leg as he contemplates what I’ve said. Surprisingly, his hesitancy makes my anger flare up.

“I thought you’d be happy,” I snap. “Isn’t this a good thing?”

“Finding missing ludds is a good thing,” he says, “but I don’t trust McKinsey. No one on the city council has ever cared about us before. Why does he want to help now?”

His response is bullshit, and it makes my blood boil. Even when McKinsey wants to help, Leo still has to find a way to make it a bad thing.

“Look,” I say, standing up, “if you don’t want to help, that’s fine. I just figured two heads are better than one. With my resources and your insight, I thought we’d be able to work on this together, but I guess not.”

He stands up, and I step aside for him to head to the door, but he doesn’t move. I look at his face, and it’s the same expression from the cemetery. He’s nervous and uncertain, and all I can see is my little brother. The one who barely knew Mom; the one who lost Dad at such a young age. Life hasn’t been easy for either of us, but I know it’s been harder for him.

“I don’t trust him,” Leo finally says, “but I’ll be damned if I don’t take help when it’s offered.” For the first time in a while, he smiles. I smile back, and he extends his arm for a handshake like we’ve just made a business deal. I laugh and put my hand in his. I’m not sure if I pull him or he pulls me, but we end up hugging, and it feels good.

There, in the silent space of my cramped living room, I finally feel like me and Leo have a chance. I just hope it’s enough.