Grid Seekers (Grid Seekers Book One) Read Free Page A

once, but I’d never actually seen one in person. I knew enough to know that you didn’t want to be caught with one in your possession.
    Skimmers were legal inside the tournament, and they were actually given to competitors, along with a set of cards to use with them. Swiping the cards inside the tournament allowed you to hack or change the source code, ultimately letting you change your surroundings or how you operated within them. You might be able to make weapons appear out of thin air, gain some sort of superpower, or even literally change and form your landscape and environment. The cards could really do anything, as long as you had the right ones.
    Possessing a skimmer outside of the tournament, however, was strictly forbidden. Merely being seen with one meant a mandatory five-year prison sentence, a fate nobody wanted, but plenty of low-lives were wildly tempted. Skimmers went for a lot on the black market, since people used them inside WorldNet to hack into banks, cause trouble for people trying to enjoy themselves, or even just to mess around and act out their wildest fantasies. After all, if you had one and could program a source card, you could do whatever you wanted. There were no true limitations in the digital realm.
    The light changed, and Saraia and I started walking. We were going to walk right past the man selling the skimmer. The boy he’d tried to persuade was long gone, as he must’ve realized that he could get in trouble for even talking to this man.
    “You look like a smart girl. You want to see something cool?” the man asked me, but I didn’t even look at him.
    “I’m not interested,” I said, and squeezed Saraia’s hand harder, picking up our pace.
    “Oh, come on. You mean to tell me you like being poor? You like being pushed down at every chance you have to stand up? I’m offering you a chance,” he said, walking beside us.
    “A chance at what? Prison? Get away from us before I call a cop over here,” I said sternly, as I stopped in place.
    “Whoa, whoa, we don’t need any cops to come over here! I’m sorry if I offended you, I was just trying to help,” he said, his hands up.
    “A little piece of advice: don’t ever try to help me again. If I ever see you on this street again I won’t hesitate to make sure you regret it,” I said, looking him dead in the eyes, his expression one of pure fear and regret.
    Without saying a word, he spun around, briskly walked away, and turned around the corner.
    “Wow, you really scared him,” Saraia said.
    “Well, somebody has to. You don’t ever talk to someone like that, okay?” I asked.
    “I promise I won’t. I don’t want to be in trouble. Ms. Weldon wouldn’t like it if I missed turning in my homework. She’d give me detention!” Saraia said.
    There was such a difference between us; our motives for staying away from that man or people like him were completely night and day. She didn’t even think about getting in real trouble, only that her teacher would scold her, and she’d miss turning in something as trivial and unimportant as homework. I didn’t think about losing my job and source of income, only getting tossed in a cold jail cell without a key in sight. Oh, what it’s like to be young.
    Saraia and I soon got to her school, the mass of kids running up the chipped, weathered steps and through the front door, some of them even chasing each other. I looked at the clock that sat plastered atop the front door. There was an hour until I had to be at work. Saraia brought my attention back down to her.
    “Is mom picking me up?” she asked.
    “Yeah. You’ll stay here until she comes, okay? You’re going to have to stay with the after school group today,” I said.
    “Aw, but I hate going in there. It’s no fun,” she pouted, her arms crossed.
    “I know, but you have to. I have work, and mom can’t come until an hour and a half after school lets out. You’re just going to have to stay for today, but I promise you and