Free Bumped by Megan McCafferty

across her nightshirt. Why didn’t I blind her chats? Why didn’t I make her go back yesterday?
    Unfortunately, my parents already know more about her than I’d like them to. So as I stride toward the MiVu, I decide that all I can do is try to keep their meddling to a minimum at the moment, just long enough to get me through this day.
    Ash and Ty are now arguing to themselves about whether they’ve given me enough time to respond or should they just dial 911 right now. For all the money my parents have shelled out on the latest in teen-tracking technologies, they don’t seem to trust any of it.
    “I’m alive,” I announce to my parents as I sweep into their 2Vu. “Just like the stalk app says I am.”
    Ash and Ty are fit and attractive blue-eyed blonds, like me. From looks alone, I could totally pass as their own, but they’ve always gone out of their way to tell people I’m adopted. They knew the Virus would make this the likeliest parental model of the future, and have always held me up as the prime example of what could be achieved when nature’s gifts are nurtured to perfection.
    Not too much pressure, right?
    Ash speaks first. She usually does.
    “How are you?”
    I clench. My parents never, ever begin a conversation by asking such a question. No, they begin all conversations by offering constructive criticism and pointing out all ways I’m not living up to my file. A more typical greeting would have been:
    “You almost let two balls slip past you yesterday, sweetie.”
    “You didn’t practice your guitar all week. You know the arts are the weakest part of your profile, and with a name like Melody . . .”
    My parents were professors at the University until I signed my conception contract eighteen months ago. That’s when they reminded me that they were both in their forties, which put them, statistically speaking, more than halfway to their deaths. This was just totally unacceptable because there was just so much of life they hadn’t lived, so much stuff they had never gotten around to doing because they were too busy schooling, working, and, since they adopted me sixteen years earlier, prepping me to be the well-rounded and highly sought-after Surrogette they always knew I would become. Rarely were they themselves the ones instructing me in the fine art of gene splicing or eyeliner application, but all that expert outsourcing doesn’t just happen by itself, does it?
    Their investment in me paid off. Literally. Thanks to the generous six-figure signing bonus Lib got out of the Jaydens, they’re now out there living life , which includes doing all that undone stuff like walking the Great Wall of China and learning the didgeridoo from Australian aborigines. They claim that it’s all material for some great research project in progress, but I highly doubt it.
    “Any word from Lib lately, honey?” they ask now in unison.
    “Um, no. Why?” I ask.
    My parents grin and grip each other’s hands.
    “Because we met an awesome couple on safari. They have a son your age,” says Ash.
    I don’t like where this is headed.
    “And they also have an older daughter who is desperate for a Surrogette,” she continues.
    “You should be that Surrogette,” says Ty.
    My parents are nothing if not direct. My mouth hangs open.
    “Our friends are loaded , Melody,” adds Ty. “We can cut out the middleman and save ourselves fifteen percent.”
    I’m beyond shocked. My deal with the Jaydens was their crowing achievement as parents. Why would they even consider messing it up?
    “My contract . . .” I can barely speak.
    “We’re afraid you’re wasting your reproductivity,” says Ash.
    “With all this waiting around,” says Ty.
    I’ve told them to lay off the Tocin. They are totally dosed. That’s the only explanation.
    “Hahahahaha. You got me, guys.”
    I’m the only one laughing. I can tell from their tight, downturned mouths that they are dead serious. They’re starting to scare me.
    “Here’s the