Glitch

H E AT H E R A N ASTAS I U
    S T . M A R T I N ’ S G R I F F I N
    N E W Y O R K

    This is a work of fi ction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fi ctitiously.
    G l i t c h . Copyright 2012 by Heather Anastasiu. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
    www .stmartins .com
    Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data (TK)
    ISBN 978- 1- 250- 00299- 0
    First Edition: August 2012
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    1

    For Cherie Haggard, my fourth grade teacher. You read
    some of my fi rst scribbled novel and, even though I was
    just eleven, said I could be a published writer one day.
    You helped me believe it, and all these years later, here
    it is. This one’s for you.

    Ac know ledg ments
    Thank you to Charlie Olsen, my amazing agent. I still re-
    member where I was sitting when I got your email saying
    you’d read the fi rst hundred pages of my novel and wanted to
    set up a phone call. You changed my life and I cannot thank
    you enough for your support, guidance, and all around awe-
    someness since that day.
    To Terra Layton, my kick- butt editor, thank you, thank
    you, thank you! Your editorial instincts have always been
    spot- on, your enthusiasm for the book and characters have
    been a constant encouragement and spur, and I feel so lucky
    to have landed with you. Thank you also to the whole team
    at St. Martin’s and Ervin Serrano for the gorgeous jacket
    design.
    Thank you to the amazing Lyndsey Blessing. Your endless
    eff orts gave Glitch an international stage, which still gives me
    chills every time I think about it.
    Thank you to my Texas writer’s group who were with
    me from the beginning when I fi rst started seriously writing
    fi ve years ago: Paula Armstrong, Kelly King, Rose Knotts,
    Rachel Sanborn, and Katherine Toivonen. You ladies were
    the perfect mix of punch and patience. And Katherine, words
    vii

    AC K N OW L E D G M E N TS
    are pretty paltry to express my gratitude for the support and
    advice you’ve given me both in writing and in life.
    Thank you to my fi rst readers: Anthonee Alvarez, who
    read every single manuscript I ever wrote, even the really bad
    early ones. Thank you to Bouquet Boulter, Emily Shroeder,
    Amy Shatila, Abby Dimmick, Erin P., Eric Pendley, Danielle
    Ducrest, and Eve Marie Mont.
    Thank you to the Apocalypsies! It’s been an honor to get
    to know and support you all as we went through this crazy
    publication pro cess together.
    The San Marcos Public Library deserves a special shout-
    out, especially the young adult book buyer who unknow-
    ingly helped me as a poor grad student keep up- to- date on
    the newest YA releases.
    Mom and Dad, you provided me with the best childhood.
    I love you guys and can’t thank you enough. You are a big
    part of the reason I had the confi dence to envision something
    so ridiculous as writing a novel in the fi rst place, and then
    fi nding the tenacity not to give up in the face of rejection.
    To my ladies at Classic Tattoo, Morgan and Andrea, thank
    you for providing me amazing body art. I wear your work
    proudly!
    And last but not least, Dragos¸, we both know I would
    never have gotten here without your continual help, encour-
    agement, and love. Încetu cu încetu. Love you.
    viii

    Secrets were strictly forbidden in the Community. Of course, it had
    never been a problem before, because we weren’t supposed to be capa-
    ble of secrets. It was secrets that started the wars and almost destroyed
    the planet. Secrets and lies and destructive passions. But we were
    saved from all that. We were logical. Orderly.
    Secrets were wrong. Keeping one was wrong. But I had more than
    one now, dangerous secrets, piling up like the lies I had to tell to keep
    them hidden.
    1

Chapter 1
    i fe lt it coming this time. I shoved my drawings
    into the hidden slit I’d made in the back of my mattress, then
    grabbed the metal bed frame to steady myself as my brain
    suddenly jolted back into connection with the Link.
    The ret i na display fl ickered into view and scrolled a chat-
    ter of data at the edges of my fi eld of vision. Auditory inputs
    clicked back online too, a slight hum in the background.
    One by one, each of my senses dimmed, replacing my con-
    nection to the physical world with the connection to the
    Link. In a blink, the small bit