I push myself to my feet. ‘Is it OK if I only spend two minutes?’

  ‘Totally,’ says Mae. ‘You’re a natural beauty.’

  I don’t mention Chloe being ill. Not because it’s secret. I don’t want it to feel so real.

  *

  I change into a dress which Mum made for me out of dark green velvet. It looks ‘old style’, but that’s what I love about it.

  I look across to Mae’s bed, to see what she’s wearing. She’s still in her leggings and hoodie, but she beckons me over.

  I walk past Nyla who is struggling into a stretchy jumpsuit, spangled with gold flecks. Eve is standing nearby, perhaps ready to help if the stretchy material starts winning.

  ‘I thought you weren’t interested in getting dressed up,’ Mae says accusingly. ‘You look amazing. Where did you get that dress?’

  ‘My mum made it.’

  Eve glances across. She looks at the dress, but not at me.

  ‘I’m not sure I believe you. Well now I wish I’d spent a few more hours choosing mine. I’m not sure whether I should give you this, either.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, sitting on the corner of her bed.

  ‘Close your eyes and put out your hand.’

  I do as instructed. Mae places something cold and slightly spiky in my hand.

  I open my eyes and gasp. In my palm rests a bee, crafted from hundreds of tiny crystals, on a delicate frame of silver-coloured metal.

  ‘It’s a clip,’ says Mae, taking the bee from my hand and sliding it into the hair above my right ear. ‘Keep still.’

  She holds up her wrist and scans me with her port-watch. Then she takes off the watch so that I can have a proper look.

  The clip nestles within my chestnut-coloured hair, glinting silver and gold. It turns my velvety outfit into something glamorous. I love it.

  ‘Can I wear it tonight?’

  ‘It’s yours,’ says Mae. ‘It’s nowhere near as expensive as it looks, but I overheard you talking to your mum and dad about beehives and honey harvests, so, well, now you have a bee of your own.’

  I hug Mae. ‘Thank you. Chloe will want one too.’

  ‘I think Jack might like it as well,’ whispers Mae.

  I feel my cheeks burn.

  ‘I really have to start getting ready. Especially now that you look like that.’ She picks up two dresses and holds them next to each other.

  ‘The red one,’ I say, then wander back to my bed, a warm feeling glowing in my chest.

  There’s still half an hour or so until the Gala begins. The perfect chance to read for a bit. I lift the lid of my trunk. The hinges make a low creaking noise, which I’m fairly sure didn’t happen before.

  I choose a book with a swirling sea design on the front. Dad read it to me and Chloe a few years ago. He would sit on the floor next to the bed and read a little bit each night. Chloe and I would squash up together on her bunk, trying not to make a noise so that Dad might forget we were there, and keep on reading to the next chapter. I place it on the pillow. Then I reach for Dad’s thin grey coding book. I hold it close to my face and breathe in the papery smell. I thumb through the pages. Pages I have looked at hundreds of times. I’m about to place it back in the trunk when something on the title page catches my eye. I’ve seen it before, of course. I’ve just never taken any notice of it. It didn’t mean anything then. It does mean something now, though. Written in pale blue ink, at the top of the page, nearest the spine, are the letters CS.

  Spy

  The next evening, the dining hall is half empty. I sit alone at the table. Everyone has chosen to go to bed early rather than eat. The immersive film was good—an undersea adventure—but unlike the others, I didn’t stay up until the early hours, curating my room space afterwards. I needed a clear head today to scale the mountain of homework growing silently within my port-com. I check my port-watch for messages. For the twentieth time. There are none. I realize it’s been eleven days since I saw my family sitting on the bench in the garden. Hot tears sting the corners of my eyes. I place my tray on the neat-bot and get up to leave.

  When I reach the common room, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  I wipe my eyes before turning round.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ It’s Mae. Her eyes dart around my face, trying to work out what’s happened. ‘Let’s sit down for a bit.’ She points to a sofa by the window.

  I perch on the edge, one foot tucked beneath me, and take a few slow breaths to calm myself down. I don’t want to sound hysterical.

  ‘It’s about my mum and dad,’ I say.

  Mae nods encouragingly. As I begin to tell her—again—what’s been going on, it doesn’t sound silly any more.

  ‘I can’t get in touch with them. They haven’t answered my port-messages for days. Now Chloe isn’t answering hers, either. The transport wouldn’t charge, live-learning has disconnected. It’s like they’ve disappeared and I need to know how Chloe is. She’s been really poorly again.’ I hear the quiver in my voice.

  Mae hears it too. She nods slowly, thoughtfully. My mouth feels dry. The sense of unease is turning into something else. Fear.

  ‘Maybe they didn’t see the messages. Perhaps they’ve just been really busy.’

  I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak straight away. ‘Not for this long.’

  ‘But you’re still getting messages from Chloe?’

  ‘Well, I was. But I messaged her yesterday, and she hasn’t replied. It’s like—’ I hesitate. ‘It’s like my family has vanished.’ Tears pool at the bottom of my eyes again. This time I can’t stop them from spilling down my cheeks.

  ‘Jess, there must be a good explanation.’

  I want to feel reassured by Mae’s words. But there is a heavy sensation in my chest. I’ve been through every good explanation I can think of. Connections hardly ever fail, and if they do, then it never takes more than a few hours before they’re fixed. Otherwise we couldn’t live the way we do. Which can only mean one thing. Something is seriously wrong.

  I glance at Mae. Her chin is propped on the heel of her hand. She’s gazing straight ahead, but not as if she’s thinking about what I said. Her gaze is more intense. She’s looking at something. I turn round. Dangling over the side of the opposite armchair, is a pair of feet. I recognize the trainers. Violet is sitting in the chair, and she must have heard everything.

  ‘I’m really tired,’ says Mae, yawning loudly.

  ‘So am I,’ I sniff. I realize what Mae is doing, but I also wonder when we will be able to talk again; wonder what I should do now. Maybe I should speak to a teacher. But they would suggest doing exactly what I have been doing. Send a message and wait.

  I’m about to follow Mae to the door, when a voice says, ‘I think you’re right to worry.’

  I look over to the chair where Violet’s feet were dangling. Her feet have disappeared, replaced by her head, as she leans round the side of the chair.

  ‘I said, I think you’re right to worry.’

  The voice is quiet. Matter of fact.

  Mae freezes, halfway between the sofa and the door, staring, mouth slightly open, at the back of the chair containing Violet.

  ‘Do you want to know why?’

  I feel myself nod.

  ‘Of course she does!’ says Mae, striding back across the common room. As Violet comes into view, she stops, her hands on her hips.

  ‘I was talking to Jess,’ Violet says defiantly.

  ‘Well, I was talking to Jess too. We were having a private conversation.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Violet. ‘Well I didn’t want to listen to your private conversation, but I didn’t have any choice, did I? If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I’d rather go and brush my teeth anyway.’

  ‘No. Please,’ I say, ‘Mae didn’t mean to be rude.’ I sense Mae scowling at me.

  ‘Yes, she did,’ says Violet, ‘but if you want my help then I’ll stay.’

  ‘I do.’

  Mae thumps down on the sofa next to me but keeps quiet.

  Violet looks from Mae to me, where her eyes linger.

  ‘Is it correct that your parents cannot access live-learning, or transport-charging credits, and have not been able to connect to their port-watches or screens either?’

  ‘Well,’ I say slowly, piecing together what Violet has absorbed so quickly. ‘Yes, I think that sounds right.’

  ‘And were credits unavailable for other purchases too?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I frown, wondering how I could tell whether my parents have been able to pay for anything recently. ‘We don’t have a lot of credits anyway.’

  ‘What about your parents’ emergency trip?’ Mae says, an edge of excitement to her voice.

  ‘They were going to meet a new client. To sell extra produce,’ I confirm. If Violet thinks this sounds weird, she doesn’t let it show. ‘It did seem quite sudden.’

  ‘Like they suddenly needed credits?’ adds Mae triumphantly.

  ‘I suppose that’s possible.’

  ‘Well, Violet,’ Mae says, ‘what does it all mean? You said you were going to help. So far you’ve just told us what we already know.’

  I’m worried that if Mae carries on, Violet will leave. Her face is in the shadow of the armchair, but her blue eyes sparkle as they flit round my face. Then it dawns on me. She already knows the answer. She’s deciding whether to tell me.

  ‘The housemaster will be here any second for fog,’ says Mae, ‘and we’re not even ready for bed.’

  ‘Can you keep a secret?’ Violet asks.

  Mae snorts, but Violet ignores her.

  ‘Yes. I’m good at keeping secrets,’ I answer.

  ‘Because what I’m going to tell you could get me in trouble. It could get my family in trouble. Although I’m less worried about that.’

  I feel my heart thumping faster in my chest.

  ‘I know what has happened to your parents.’ She hesitates, then says, ‘They’ve been deleted.’

  ‘That doesn’t actually happen. Not for real,’ says Mae.

  I look from Mae to Violet. I’ve never heard of being deleted.

  ‘It’s a fairy tale,’ Mae adds angrily, ‘to make sure people behave. Like the fairy tale which says we still have to stay at home.’

  I know Mae is trying to help, but I wish she would let Violet speak.

  ‘But—what does it mean?’ I ask.

  ‘It means that you don’t exist any more,’ says Mae. ‘Not for real. You don’t exist digitally.’

  I feel my insides turn to ice.

  ‘Everything about you is erased. You can’t buy things, connect to anyone, search for anything. You might as well not exist for real either. But, like I said, it’s a fairy tale.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ says Violet quietly.

  ‘How do you know?’ Mae stares at Violet. ‘Jess is worried about her parents. Spreading rubbish like this has made her feel ten times worse. It’s how stupid rumours become “facts”.’

  Mae gets to her feet again. I think she expects me to join her, but I’m watching Violet. She seems calm. Confident.

  ‘It’s not a fairy tale,’ she repeats, in the same quiet voice. ‘I know it’s not a fairy tale, because my dad invented it.’

  There is a gentle swish as the door to the common room slides open. I turn to see the housemaster stop abruptly near the entrance. She wasn’t expecting to see anyone here. She converts surprise to mild outrage by folding her arms across her chest.

  ‘I’m not going to ask what you’re doing, but fog applies to all students. Upstairs now, please. I will be checking the dormitory in five minutes, and I expect everyone in bed, lights out. OK?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Drew,’ we agree, hurrying towards the door.

  Exactly five minutes later, a pale rectangle of light illuminates the corner of the dormitory, and a silhouette of the housemaster appears. After a minute, the silhouette retreats. The rectangle of light disappears and the dormitory melts back into shades of grey.

  As I stare at the ceiling, it feels as if sleep will be impossible tonight. I’m sure Mae and Violet must be lying awake, too.

  The question which echoes round and round my head is why? Why would anyone want to ‘delete’ my parents? It makes no sense at all.

  Gone

  I become aware of someone shaking me gently by the shoulder.

  ‘You’re going to miss breakfast.’

  I open my eyes. Mae is crouched next to my bed. There are dusky shadows beneath her eyes.

  As I sit up, fragments of last night’s conversation swirl round my head.

  ‘Come on!’ she urges.

  In the dining hall, I feel as if everybody knows what we talked about, even though no one pays me any attention as I place fruit and toast on my tray.

  I don’t feel like eating. There is an uncomfortable knot in my stomach.

  Violet is sitting in the same chair as usual. She doesn’t look up when I sit down. Only Mae is buzzing with a nervous kind of energy. The yoghurt jar slides from her plate as she leans towards the neat-bot, clattering to the table, but not breaking. I’m almost relieved she has to leave early to finish some homework.

  Violet places her tray on the neat-bot too. Before she stands up, I try to catch her eye.

  ‘Violet.’

  She looks over. For a split second her expression changes—reflecting the same energy Mae’s did.

  ‘Will you be outside at break time?’ I ask.

  ‘Not at break time.’

  ‘At lunch time, maybe?’ I realize my voice is slightly too high. There is a pleading edge to it.

  ‘I can meet you by the tree, if you like,’ she says.

  ‘OK.’ I nod. The knot in my stomach loosens a little.

  The morning passes in slow motion. Halfway through plant science my port-watch vibrates. It should be in sleep mode, but I don’t want to miss a message from Mum or Dad. I glance down at my wrist. It’s from Finn. It occurs to me that he might have some news. The teacher is still talking. I need to at least look as if I’m listening. I can’t risk having my port-watch confiscated.

  A hologram of a tulip hovers in the centre of the room, the petals and outer layers gently peeling away to reveal a magnified interior, before reforming to repeat the display. We are supposed to label it. Using my finger, I trace a line to the words style and stigma. As I begin the next line, I let my hand linger mid-air, and read the message.

  Send news! And scrambled egg sandwiches! Port-com later? F x

  My shoulders sag a little. Finn doesn’t have news, he wants it—which means he can’t have heard from Chloe either. A shadow falls across my desk. Miss Ali is standing directly in front of me. I pretend not to have noticed and continue tracing, trying to focus on what I’m doing.

  When the low bell sounds for lunch, I’m still only halfway through and my labels are a mess. There isn’t time to correct them.

  I head straight to the dining room. There’s no queue yet. I don’t feel hungry, but I know I should eat something. I grab some fruit and a sandwich. I’m about to message Mae, to say that I will meet her later, when she slides into the seat next to me.

  ‘Will you wait? I’ll be quick,’ she says, taking an extra-large spoonful of rice.

  I’d hoped to meet Violet on my own. I’m worried that Mae will lose her temper again and Violet will actually leave this time. There’s no way I can go without her now, though.

  Eve and Nyla sit down a few seats away.

  ‘Mae,’ I say quietly, ‘Violet said she’d meet me—meet us—by the tree. I really want to hear what she has to say.’

  Mae nods. ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour, if that’s what you mean,’ she adds through a mouthful of food.

  I didn’t spot Violet in the dining hall, but when we walk out into the yard, she is beneath the tree already. As we get closer, I see that she’s brought a waterproof square to sit on. She watches us approach, unsmiling.

  ‘Hi. I don’t have long,’ she says briskly.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I say. ‘So—’ The questions I’m so desperate to ask seem to tumble towards my mouth all at once.

  ‘You want to know what’s happening?’ Violet asks.

  Mae shifts on the grass next to me, but she stays quiet.

  ‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘Are my parents—is my family going to be OK?’

  ‘Web connections don’t fail by accident. The systems are too good. When our parents were our age, connections used to fail all the time. Bad systems, bad security, bad infrastructure.’

  Violet sounds like a live-learning teacher addressing a class.

  ‘There’s no reason why your mother’s port-watch shouldn’t work. But assuming that some kind of anomalous and extremely rare hardware failure has occurred, the chances of that same failure affecting your father’s port-watch is almost zero. In addition, live-learning has deactivated and they cannot access their credits.’ She pauses, as if to check that I am keeping up.

  I nod. My heart is thumping in my chest. She has analysed my conversation with Mae so precisely.

  ‘My father works for Global Connections, which controls ninety per cent of all portal sites. He is head of their security department.’

  Violet pauses again, her blue eyes shining. Her chin lifts slightly as she talks about her dad, there is a note of something different in her voice, too. As if she’s tasted something unpleasant.

  ‘He doesn’t discuss what he does. But I hear him in meetings sometimes, and when he speaks to Mum. When they think I’m not listening.’ From the way Violet says this, I get the feeling they often assume she’s not listening.

  ‘He says that the only way to stop cybercrime is quickly. That every second counts.’

  Mae looks at her port-watch. I don’t care what time it is. I won’t let Violet stop until I know everything that she does.

  ‘Because Global Connections is international, ubiquitous, normal laws can’t apply. They are too slow. If cybercrime is detected it must be shut down immediately, to limit damage and prevent repeat offences. Your cyber accounts and all online presence will be deactivated. You will be deleted.’