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And you know that I know that you're lying.Por favor, don't lie to me again, Malaga."
The girl looked to her friend for help. They were silent for a long minute. Then the one called Rose
spoke up, though with obvious reluctance. She did not meet the visitor's gaze. "Katla's hard to talk to,
sometimes. It's not like she's rude: just quiet. But sometimes sometimes she'll tell us where she's been
when she's not here." The not-quite-woman's voice had fallen to a whisper, as if she was afraid someone
not present might somehow overhear the conversation.
"She likes to focus with the crazyboys."
Cardenas exhaled softly. "Katla Anderson is twelve. That's too young to be focusing with the ninlocos.
They would laugh her off. She'd slow their pulse."
Malaga was shaking her head. "Not the subgrubs. They'll take you if you're eleven." Aware that she
might have divulged too much forbidden knowledge, she added hastily, "That's what I induct, anyway."
The Inspector straightened. Subgrubs were loose, casual groupings of antisocs not yet old enough to be
initiated into a real gang. Despite what the girl had told him, he had never encountered or heard of one as
young as eleven being admitted to the clique. But twelve at twelve you would be tolerated. Thirteen to
fourteen was the average age of a subgrub, after which you moved on up to a real ninloco gang, went
cleanie or ended up solo on the Strip. Or dead.
Subgrubings were fluid bands of mature children and immature teens with no real structure or
organization. Unlike the ninloco gangs, members owed allegiance only to one another. Bonds were
formed through friendship and dissolved as casually as they were begun. Serious crimes were rarely
perpetrated by the kids involved. Most turned to antisoc activities out of boredom, not conviction. They
were delinquents rather than felons.
It was a good time to catch them out, before their lives started spiraling down the toilet. Especially a
bright, apparently promising kid like the Anderson girl.
Drawing his spinner, Cardenas requested the names of all the known subgrub factions reported to swirl
within a ten-kim radius of the school. Beyond that, a twelve-year-old would start to find herself in alien
territory. "Gobreski," he recited aloud as the names appeared on the screen. "Narulas. Pinks, Habaneros,
Terravillas. The Lost Perros. Vetevenga. Socratease. Convirgil."
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"Vetevenga," murmured Rose. "That's the one. I don't know where they focus."
"There's something else." Cardenas shifted his attention to the taller girl.
"She Katla mentioned the name of one antisoc a lot. A boy." Rose shot her friend a warning look that
was ignored. "Como's himself 'Wild Whoh.' I we met him once or twice. He was never enrolled here,
but they let him audit a few classes. Whenever he was here, he and Katla would hub." Raising one hand
above her head, she held it out, palm facing down. "About this tall, kind of skinny. Short green hair,
usually. Crossoed querymark shaved into the right side. One time I remember him saying he was
fifteen but I think he was boasting. Afranglo skin and features." She touched her left ear. "Always
wearing a muse when he wasn't in session. Passing out nodes like some bigtime Noburu-san."
"They were a good match," a still-hesitant Rose added. "He was even weirder than Katla."
The Inspector recorded the info. "You've both been very helpful. Thank you." He turned to go.
A hand clutched tentatively at his sleeve. It was Malaga, for the first time looking very childlike.
"Katla she's okay, isn't she?"
"I hope so. I like to think so. If she should happen to focus anywhere around here, would you let me
know? My name is Inspector Cardenas." He did not have to provide a number. How to deal with and
make use of the authorities was one of the first things children learned in soche.
It was clouding up when he left the school. More monsoon weather, he reflected. More rain. It would
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