Damon’s cool, calculating stare meets mine over the First’s head. How does he want to play this? Without a doubt, he has a plan. He’s so passionate about the revolution that he’ll use anything to his advantage.
The crowd’s chants grow louder. Socrates’s terrified gaze meets mine, but then darts away. When faced by hundreds of people who hate you, I guess it’s only normal to be afraid, no matter how old you are.
“You killed Mira!” someone else shouts. “You killed Milissa, Alyxander, Donovann, and Stephan. You’re a murderer. This Bill doesn’t change that!”
Biting his lip, Socrates jerks free of my hand and takes a step toward the crowd. Taking a deep breath, he steadies himself. “They had a choice! I didn’t murder anyone. They chose to become Seconds.”
“They were children! You murdered them!” The crowd roars even louder.
Out of the corner of my eye, a couple of the protestors break away and leap over the barricade. The guards converge on the perpetrators, and the shouts from what is rapidly becoming a mob take on an even more enraged tone. They turn the electricity on the barrier higher, and it zaps a few more people, who fall to the ground twitching.
With the distraction in place, Damon drops his easy smile, and his true expression of fury takes over. He’s not the enthusiastic showman any longer. Adrenaline pumps through me as I register his threat. He digs into his pocket and then quickly pulls out his clenched fist. A sliver of a needle patch shows through his fingers. I freeze, forgetting the roar of the crowd and the escalating violence. The real danger is right here. Damon’s going to kill Socrates. Whatever’s in that needle patch, it’s lethal.
“We don’t want your help!” Damon shouts, drawing several more exuberant chants from the crowd. “Mira was our friend, our sister, our cousin. We want revenge!”
The blood drains from Socrates’s face. Damon jerks his hand back to slap the patch against the First’s neck. Depending on the poisonous concoction, hitting him there could kill him instantly. I leap forward and throw all my weight into blocking his arm, redirecting it down instead of at the First.
Damon stumbles back, betrayal flashing across his eyes. Unable to stop the momentum, he slaps the needle patch against his own shoulder. Damon’s mouth opens in a silent scream as he collapses to the cold, hard concrete steps. His eyes roll back in his head, and he starts shaking. White froth foams at the corners of his mouth, followed by thick, bubbling blood. He must have bitten his tongue. After a few seconds, he stops twitching. I lean down and check his pulse. There isn’t one.
The roar of the crowd grows to deafening levels as several protestors throw themselves against the barricade, sacrificing themselves short out the electricity so their comrades can break through.
“We have to go. Now!” I grab Socrates by the elbow and drag his slight body through the glass double doors. Ben helps in his own way by grabbing the First’s sleeve in his mouth and tugging him along. Socrates stumbles, almost as if he’s in shock and unable to move. He doesn’t fight us, but he doesn’t help either.
Once the doors shut, I lean against a tall, white pillar and run my hands over my head. “That was a complete and utter disaster.”
Socrates takes a moment to collect himself before answering. “I should have listened to you.”
“Yeah, I did kinda tell you something bad might happen.”
Socrates’s troubled gaze meets mine. “Damon tried to kill me, didn’t he?”
My blood turns cold as I think about the rebel and that little bit of silver, as deadly as the most dangerous weapon, cupped delicately in his hand and ready to strike. “I’m sorry about that. I knew he was a Lifer, but I didn’t think he would ever do something so violent.”
Socrates frowns. “They’re going to blame me for his death, aren’t they?”
“Probably. Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do about that. The news will state that it was an assassination attempt that backfired, but that won’t change what most of the citizens believe.” I rub my temples, so much for keeping Socrates out of trouble. I’ll be lucky if Eliot really doesn’t kill me.
Socrates touches my arm, mistaking my headache for sorrow at the loss of a friend. “You knew him, didn’t you?”
I shake myself free of his touch. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. I haven’t talked to him in years.”
“Before he became a Lifer?” Socrates’s voice is quiet, but his words hold so much weight. They bear down on me, onto my soul, as heavy as a pile of rocks.
“Yes.” I hesitate, trying to figure out what I should and should not tell him. “In my line of work, I have to keep current about the latest threats. I’d heard he’d joined the movement, but not that he was a menace. If I’d known there was to be an assassination attempt, I would have locked you in your room to keep you safe.”
I Was There
Mira
“What were you thinking?” Ellie wrings her hands as she paces my room, her angry footsteps muffled only slightly by the soft carpeting. “That was the stupidest thing you could have done.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Her outburst embarrasses me even though I deserve it. “I wanted to do something. Besides, they asked for me specifically to come out there.”
She spins around as she reaches the far wall. “They wanted to kill you. You saw what that boy did. How on Earth did you think it would end any differently? Seriously, Soc. Of all the stupid things you could have done, this tops the list.”
The need to defend myself rises sure and swift inside me. “I was just trying to be a part of this rebellion. They need a leader, and I can do that for them. I can help them.”
“By getting yourself killed? You saw what that boy was going to do. How would that really help your cause?”
I throw my hands up in the air. “What should I have done, then?”
She scowls at me. “Nothing. You should have just ignored them and stayed in your room.”
All of my bravado leaves me in a helpless rush. “I’m sorry.”
A humorless smile stretches her lips. “Sorry won’t keep you alive.”
I duck my head and scuff the ground with one foot like a little kid in trouble. “Would it help if I told you I won’t do that again?”
“That’s probably the best I can expect from you, although it provides little comfort.”
After Eliot leaves a minutes later, I pace the room for a bit, then turn on the AVIS screen. I flip through channels for what seems like forever until finally, without even trying, I fall asleep.
***
I wake up with a start, heart pounding, and scramble from the bed. From his spot at the foot of the bed, Ben snorts and slides to the floor. Stupid nightmares. They’re even worse when I can’t remember what I was dreaming about, only that it terrified me.
“Sorry, boy.” I sigh and fluff up my pillow. Why can’t I sleep? This is the best bed I’ve ever slept on, millions of miles better than the one I had at Chesaning farms. What’s wrong with me?
In the room’s dim light, Ben saunters to the door and stares at it. When I don’t get the hint, he looks back at me and lets out a high-pitched whine.
“Yeah, I don’t want to be here, either.”
He barks and swishes his tail.
“Do you need to go out?”
He barks again.
I tap on the little screen on the wall, turning it on. “Will, are you there?” The screen remains blank. “I need to take Ben out to the garden. Are you there?” The dog whines at my feet, adding urgency to the situation. “Okay, fine.” I snort as Ben scratches at the door and nudges my hand with his nose. “I’ll see if Ellie’s back, but if not I’m going to have to take you to the garden. I’m not letting you make a mess in my room.”
After clipping Ben’s leash to his collar, I slip my shoes on and leave my suite. I knock on Eliot’s door, but there’s no answer there, either. For two people who want me to stay out of trouble, they’re certainly not making themselves available to keep me safe.
I hesitate a few steps from Ellie’s door. Maybe I should just stay inside. If any of those protestors got inside the Smith, I could be in real danger. Ben whines again. He peers up at me with hope in his eyes. “You’ll protect me, right, boy?”
He nudges my hand in response.
The lights power on as we walk down the hall. It’s mostly empty except for a servant here or there who ignore me as I pass.
We get to the garden unscathed, and once inside, I let Ben do his business just past the door on the patch of grass laid down for that purpose. Afterward, we walk down to the stream where little lights embedded in the ground produce enough of a glow to find our way. As soon as I see the artificial moonlight glinting off the rippling waves, I unclip Ben’s leash, and he trots to the shore before wading in. Watching him slowly eases my tension, so I take a seat on a stone bench.
Twisting Ben’s leash in my hands, I watch him sniff the water and lap at the waves as they brush against his face. What I wouldn’t give to be a dog. I wouldn’t have to worry about Will, what he thinks, what he feels, or what he wants. I wouldn’t have to worry about the speech, the men who tried to talk to me in the cafeteria earlier, or being murdered by one of those protesters outside the Smith. I wouldn’t have to worry about fooling everyone except Eliot and making them believe I am Socrates. I could just be me, muddy and splashing in the water without a care in the world.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
I jump a few inches off the bench, my heart lodged firmly in my throat. A young man with blond hair tucked behind his ears stands next to me. He slips his hands into the pockets of a light gray uniform. His eyebrows, coal black, disappear into the fall of white hair framing his face when I don’t respond. I swear I’ve seen him before.
He gestures to the seat next to me. “Mind if I sit down?”
I shrug, and from the corner of my eye, I see the man smile. As Will and Eliot would say, I’m probably doing something stupid again. This guy could be like Damon and have a needle patch full of poison waiting with my name on it.
Ben finally notices the intruder, barks once, and then goes back to rolling around in the stream. Droplets of water fly up in the air and land on the ground around us. Some guard dog he is.
“My name is James Scoffield.”
I study him. After all the subterfuge going on around me, and Will telling me his former friend was a Lifer, I’d be surprised if this is an accidental meeting. Around here, everyone has a hidden agenda. “Is that your real name?”
One side of his mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. “It’ll do.”
I chuckle. “At least you’re being honest.”
“Are you?” His gaze pierces mine.
I shift uncomfortably on the bench. Does he know? That’s not possible. “Who are you really?”
“I’m a doctor.”
I tilt my head and study his features. “You’re too young to be a doctor.”
“Believe what you want, Mira. But as you know, looks can be deceiving.” My name falls from his lips in an easy whisper lighter than the artificial breeze that flows around us.
The blood drains from my face. “How…”
He smiles, faintly. “I was there.”
“You were?” I rub my temples, trying to remember him, but I can’t.
James leans closer to me and angles his knees toward mine. From his pocket, he pulls out an EG and turns it on. The clear bubble expands around us. In the back of my mind, I hear Ellie telling me that these were standard issue for Firsts. Why does James have one?
“I was Socrates’s personal care physician for the Exchange.”
I frown. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”
“You weren’t supposed to.” He cracks a smile. “I’m pretty good at being invisible when necessary. It comes in handy with my line of work.”
I cock my head. “Why would a doctor need to be invisible?”
“I thought you didn’t believe that I was a doctor?”
“I don’t. Who are you really?”
James’ eyes crinkle at the corners. “I am many things.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and turn away, focusing on Ben still splashing in the stream. “I don’t have time for this.”
He inclines his head. “My apologies. Where I’m from, talking around the subject is a matter of life and death.”
From the corner of my eye, I study him. He doesn’t appear dangerous, but around here, who knows what people’s motivations really are. “So that means you’re a Lifer?” My voice grows louder, and James glances around us. I snap my mouth shut. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. You’re new at this.”
“And you’re not? You can’t be much older than I am.”
“Sometimes age is not measured in years but experience.”
“Whatever.” I stand up. “I should probably go.” I slap my hand to my thigh to get Ben’s attention. The rangy mutt ignores me. Stupid dog. I snap my fingers at him. Ben sighs, shakes himself, and slowly walks toward me.
James touches my arm. “Wait, please. There’s more to explain. It wasn’t easy orchestrating this meeting.”
I sit back down. “You couldn’t know that I was going to randomly decide to take a walk in the middle of the night.”
Even though he smiles at me, his eyes are pinched at the corners, revealing his anxiety. “Then I guess I’m lucky.”
I snort. “Sure, okay. I’m listening.”
“To put it bluntly, Socrates wanted all of this to happen. He chose you initially for your intended purpose, but somewhere along the way, he changed his mind. He saw you not only as a vessel but also as a potential heir. He saw what you could become and that you wouldn’t let your past or your people’s past define you.”
“He chose me for this?” My voice comes out much smaller than I intended.
“Yes. He wouldn’t have kept you if he didn’t think you could do it.”
“But I’m not anything special. There are far better people out there than me.”
A smile lights up James’ face. “That may be, but Socrates picked you. He wanted your spirit to persevere. I think he realized that he couldn’t do this thing, that this new fight was far bigger than he, so he chose the next best person.”
“Right.” I laugh. “The next best person would be Eliot.”
“But they won’t listen to her. She’s just another First who decided to live out the rest of her natural life and opt out of the program. You’re recent, living proof of the procedure’s success. You still look like that farm girl who was ripped from her home, almost abducted by rebels, and chose to give her life so that her people might have a chance at freedom. They won’t see Socrates; they’ll see Mira. But because they believe you’re Socrates, they’ll listen to you.”
I stare down at my hands. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You have to, I’m afraid.” Sympathy deepens the faint creases on his face.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
James lifts one shoulder and drops it. “George Eliot and some of the others may not agree with me, but I believe you deserve to know everything that’s going on.”
“Wait. Eliot doesn’t want me to know?”
He shakes his head. “It’s complicated. She doesn’t want to stress you out this close to your speech. She believes anything that isn’t life threatening can wait until afterward.”
I study his face closely. “But you don’t agree with her?”
“I believe one has a right to know what’s at stake when she’s about to change the world.”
“You make my speech sound so important. Eliot just kind of brushes it off for the most part.”
“That’s because she doesn’t want to worry you.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “Things are so complicated now.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not going to change any time soon, either. The world as you knew it, the future you thought you were going to have is gone now and it isn’t
coming back.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
He stands up and offers me his arm. “Here, it’s getting late. Let me walk you back to your room. Will is correct about one thing: There are monsters here no one should face alone.”
Trust Me
Will
I scrub my palms across my face and scrunch my eyes shut. Even the stars that burst behind my eyelids do nothing to distract me. Instead, the bright shapes morph into Mira’s face, only it’s not really her; it’s Socrates. His face blends into Mira’s. He’s the one who answered when Damon and the other protestors called him out. Mira would never have done that. Socrates did. Why? No matter how long or how loud we scream, no one has ever responded before. A grudging respect rises in my chest. Speaking out took guts, even though it almost got him killed.
I twist the rumpled sheets in my hands. Next to me, Evie lies on her back, snoring softly. As I slip out of bed, she makes a quiet, sleepy sound and rolls over on her side toward me.
“Is something wrong?” She yawns and rubs her stomach.
“No. I just can’t sleep. I’m going for a walk.”
“I’ll come with you.” She starts to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but I touch her knee to stop her.
“That’s all right. Please stay in bed. You need your sleep.”
“Are you sure?” She massages her lower back with one hand and winces. “I just need to use the bathroom and throw some clothes on.” She gestures down at her sheer tank top. “It’ll only take me a minute.”
“It’s fine.” I lift her chin with my fingers and kiss her softly. “I just need to clear my head.”
She caresses the back of my head and presses her forehead against mine. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I just can’t sleep. I think if I move around a little bit, I’ll be able to get some rest. Nothing’s wrong, honest.” Except that I see a dead girl every time I close my eyes.
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