Little Brother

get them to show up but not so much as to tip our hand to the DHS was tricky, but I thought I had just the right balance:
    > VAMPMOB TOMORROW
    > If you're a goth, dress to impress. If you're not a goth, find a goth and borrow some clothes. Think vampire.
    > The game starts at 8:00AM sharp. SHARP. Be there and ready to be divided into teams. The game lasts 30 minutes, so you'll have plenty of time to get to school afterward.
    > Location will be revealed tomorrow. Email your public key to [email protected] and check your messages at 7AM for the update. If that's too early for you, stay up all night. That's what we're going to do.
    > This is the most fun you will have all year, guaranteed.
    > Believe.
    > M1k3y
    Then I sent a short message to Masha.
    > Tomorrow
    > M1k3y
    A minute later, she emailed back:
    > I thought so. VampMob, huh? You work fast. Wear a red hat. Travel light.

    What do you bring along when you go fugitive? I'd carried enough heavy packs around enough scout camps to know that every ounce you add cuts into your shoulders with all the crushing force of gravity with every step you take — it's not just one ounce, it's one ounce that you carry for a million steps. It's a ton.
    "Right," Ange said. "Smart. And you never take more than three days' worth of clothes, either. You can rinse stuff out in the sink. Better to have a spot on your t-shirt than a suitcase that's too big and heavy to stash under a plane-seat."
    She'd pulled out a ballistic nylon courier bag that went across her chest, between her breasts — something that made me get a little sweaty — and slung diagonally across her back. It was roomy inside, and she'd set it down on the bed. Now she was piling clothes next to it.
    "I figure that three t-shirts, a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, three changes of underwear, three pairs of socks and a sweater will do it."
    She dumped out her gym bag and picked out her toiletries. "I'll have to remember to stick my toothbrush in tomorrow morning before I head down to Civic Center."
    Watching her pack was impressive. She was ruthless about it all. It was also freaky — it made me realize that the next day, I was going to go away. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever.
    "Do I bring my Xbox?" she asked. "I've got a ton of stuff on the hard-drive, notes and sketches and email. I wouldn't want it to fall into the wrong hands."
    "It's all encrypted," I said. "That's standard with ParanoidXbox. But leave the Xbox behind, there'll be plenty of them in LA. Just create a Pirate Party account and email an image of your hard-drive to yourself. I'm going to do the same when I get home."
    She did so, and queued up the email. It was going to take a couple hours for all the data to squeeze through her neighbor's WiFi network and wing its way to Sweden.
    Then she closed the flap on the bag and tightened the compression straps. She had something the size of a soccer-ball slung over her back now, and I stared admiringly at it. She could walk down the street with that under her shoulder and no one would look twice — she looked like she was on her way to school.
    "One more thing," she said, and went to her bedside table and took out the condoms. She took the strips of rubbers out of the box and opened the bag and stuck them inside, then gave me a slap on the ass.
    "Now what?" I said.
    "Now we go to your place and do your stuff. It's time I met your parents, no?"
    She left the bag amid the piles of clothes and junk all over the floor. She was ready to turn her back on all of it, walk away, just to be with me. Just to support the cause. It made me feel brave, too.

    Mom was already home when I got there. She had her laptop open on the kitchen table and was answering email while talking into a headset connected to it, helping some poor Yorkshireman and his family acclimate to living in Louisiana.
    I came through the door and Ange followed, grinning like mad, but holding my hand so tight I could feel the bones grinding together. I didn't know what she was so worried about. It wasn't like she was going to end up spending a lot of time hanging around with my parents after this, even if it went badly.
    Mom hung up on the Yorkshireman when we got in.
    "Hello, Marcus," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "And who is this?"
    "Mom, meet Ange. Ange, this is my Mom, Lillian." Mom stood up and gave Ange a hug.
    "It's very good to meet you, darling," she said, looking her over from top to bottom. Ange looked