Graduation Day

“But—”

“There’s no way we can do this alone. We need all the help we can get, and Stacia’s proven she’s willing to do whatever it takes. Including turn on us if that’s the only way to be rewarded for her actions. It’s better to have her with us where we can see what she’s doing than wonder what she’s up to.”

Tomas has a point. I selected Will to be in my Induction group for the same reason, but then I knew we had the same agenda. Stacia wants to be rewarded for her actions. Who she plans on seeking that reward from—Dr. Barnes or the president—is still in question. But at the moment we have no choice in the decision we must make.

Pressing Record, I say, “Both of you be careful. I hope to see you tomorrow. And Raffe, if you have trouble, ask our other friend for help. He might know how to get away without being seen.”

“Ian?” Tomas asks.

I nod. “I don’t think he’ll leave the rebels, but he helped me get away tonight. I think he’d do the same for Raffe and Stacia.”

“That still leaves the problem of how Raffe will find us. All the windows are boarded up, so we can’t see when they arrive. You said there are people living on this street. Some might not react well if strangers come too close to their dwellings. How are Stacia and Raffe supposed to know which house we’re staying at without knocking on doors and alerting the people who live here to our presence?”

Good question. With the people on this street trying to live in the shadows, I’m sure they will not want the attention we could bring on them. To keep a low profile, they might ignore us, but it would be best not to test that hypothesis.

As I consider the problem, I put the radio back in my bag and catch sight of the painting Raffe gave me. Of the symbol he created that gives an identity to what we have planned. Seeing the crisscrossing slashes of yellow gives me an idea. Digging through my bag, I find the black charcoal pencils I carry and say, “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you going to do?”

“This house is covered with graffiti,” I say, handing him the flashlight. “I’m just going to add a little more.”

Tomas helps shift the door wide enough so I can slip out. The night is quiet. Clutching the pencils, I walk slowly to the end of the structure. I peer around the edge. The street is empty. Nothing moves. But that could change at any moment, so I have to do this fast.

I carefully make my way to the front of the house, pick a spot on the stoop that is bare, and begin to draw. My artistic abilities are lacking. The lines I create aren’t filled with the same raw power as Raffe’s. But when I am done, the design in the center of the slightly egg-shaped circle is unmistakable.

Two crossed lightning bolts.

A symbol of power. Of the elimination of ignorance. And of a rebellion that must overcome insurmountable odds in order to succeed. A symbol that combines my past with my future. And the time has come for that future to begin.

Chapter 14

WHEN I GO inside, I try to hail Zeen on the Transit Communicator. Never have I wanted to hear my brother’s voice more. When he doesn’t answer, Tomas convinces me that we should sleep. Lying on the blanket with the Communicator near my head and our hands linked, I listen as Tomas’s breathing evens out and try to clear my mind so that sleep can find me too. But there are too many worries.

Eventually sleep comes. As always, in my dreams I see the faces of those who died during The Testing. I see those who have fallen since, too, as well as the faces of students back home who I know might suffer the same fate if I fail. In the middle of them all is Enzo. His burned hand reaches out to me as Stacia appears behind him. I jerk awake with the image of Stacia’s unreadable smile etched firmly in my mind. It is only the sight of Tomas next to me that allows me to lie back and relax enough to sleep again.

When next I wake, small beams of sunlight peek through the windows. They bathe the room in a pale glow. For a moment I smile. Then I realize Tomas is not on the blanket beside me. I sit up. Both our bags sit next to the ratty sofa. Seeing them makes me feel better as I get up and go in search. I find him standing next to a freshly cleaned counter in the kitchen, cutting up apples he must have taken out of my bag or brought from his own residence. When he sees me, a smile lights his face.

I take the apple slices he offers and realize the counter is not the only thing Tomas has cleared. The broken table has been removed and the floor has been swept.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to tidy up a bit and check out the place, since we might be here for a while.”

We both know most likely we will not be here long at all, but it is nice to pretend if just for a moment that we can relax. That this is our house. That we are eating breakfast at the start of a typical day.

“I ran the water in this sink for about five minutes. That seems to have flushed out the worst of the rust buildup. I was worried the noise would wake you. I’m guessing you didn’t sleep very well.”

I put a hand to my hair and smooth it down. “I look that bad?”

“No.” Tomas tucks a strand of wayward hair behind my ear. “But I had trouble sleeping. I figured you might have, too. Yesterday was hard.”

I take Tomas’s hand. “Today will be harder.”

His fingers tighten on mine. “I know.”

We sit on the blanket in the living room with the list of names, the apple slices sitting on a chipped but clean plate between us. I treat my leg wound with more ointment. I’m glad when I see it is not as swollen as yesterday, and rewrap it with a fresh bandage. Then, in between bites of apple, I explain what Raffe told me about the people on the list.