Page 15 of Jinxed
‘Don’t be silly, you’ve wanted this your whole life. I’m so happy for you.’
‘Even with... what happened to Dad?’ I’d cringed then. I rarely brought it up. But if there was any moment it felt needed, it was right after getting my acceptance to Profectus. It’s one step away from working at Moncha HQ, just like he did.
Mom shushed me, but she also turned her face awayso I couldn’t see her get emotional. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, and it definitely doesn’t matter what your father would have thought. Your life is your own, and so are your dreams. I will always support you, no matter what.’ She’d then kissed me on the forehead and ordered me to change out of the clothes I had slept in in my locker. Mom leapt into super hostess mode, Petal darting back andforth between the cupboards, projecting a recipe for a quick celebration cake she could whip up.
Less than an hour later, our unit is filled with Zora’s family, neighbours from our floor, even Darwin, our porter – all celebrating my achievement. I receive more hugs and kisses than I can process. Paul shows up and he gives me a gruff hug. ‘Knew you could do it! That probably means I won’t be seeingyou in the basement much.’
‘I don’t know about that... there might be one last big project over this summer.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Anything you need, you know who to ask.’
‘Thanks, Paul.’
‘I’m proud of you, little tinker.’
My cheeks burn with a mixture of pride and embarrassment at the same time.
After way too much cake, I slip out of the front door and edge along the hallway to thestairwell. If I take the elevator, I’m bound to bump into someone I know. Even though everyone is there for me, the noise and the people and the attention is all a bit too much.
Especially as I’m desperate to get down to my cave and figure out if that broken hunk of metal could possibly be turned into a fully functioning level 3 baku – or else my career at Profectus might be short-lived afterall.
Zora spots me escaping. ‘Want me to run interference?’ she asks, and I’m grateful she doesn’t push to come with me.
I smile at her. ‘That would be great.’
‘Hey – when do you think they’ll send the new baku – Jinx, isn’t it?’
I play Zora off, even though I hate lying to her. ‘Oh, they just emailed to say they’d send me the baku right before the start of term – something about not wantingme to get too attached.’
She frowns. ‘That’s odd.’ Then, she shrugs. ‘I guess you know more about Profectus than I do! But does that mean you won’t have a baku all summer long? How am I going to get in touch with you?’
‘You live in my building,’ I say, with a grin. ‘We’ll just have to visit each other’s units.’
‘I suppose so,’ she says. Linus wrinkles his nose in a gesture of solidarity withZora’s scepticism. ‘I’d better get back to the party and make sure no one asks too many questions about where the guest of honour has gone,’ she says with a wink.
‘Thanks, Zora. I owe you one.’
When I get down to the locker, it’s quiet. Eerily so. I fumble with the lock – it takes me two or three attempts to open – and once I’m inside, I take several deep breaths to calm myself down. When Ifeel more settled, I slide the box out from underneath the desk and there is the baku: still just as broken and messed up as I left it.
You can’t just name a baku by saying a word aloud,I remind myself.That isn’t how baku registering works. You have to go through the leashing process and input the name, check that it hasn’t been registered to a similar baku within a certain radius... all the things I was going to do with my beetle.
Another, louder voice says:But this has to be Jinx.
There’s no way that Profectus would send me a level 3 baku. Which means if I don’t manage to get ‘Jinx’ before the start of term, I won’t be starting school in September, acceptance or not.
I have no money to buy a new one. You can’t buy secondhand bakus. So my only option is to fix the one thathas somehow fallen into my hands.
I stare down at the cat baku, that looks nothing like a cat baku – yet – with those lifeless eyes and the gaping hole in its side, the tangle of wires and the broken paws.
The longer I stare, the more certain I am this is a crazy idea. I’m overwhelmed by how much work needs to be done. Finally, I blink, slumping against the back of my chair.
And the baku’sone, unbroken eye lazily blinks back.
It’s enough to jolt me out of my seat. But I’msureI didn’t imagine it this time.
If there’s a spark of life, there’s a spark of hope. It’s all I need. That, and every second of summer vacation I can spare.
Three months to turn this scrap metal into a fully functional baku.
