Chapter Fourteen

Alarm charges through my body. I struggle to think of an excuse for being at the scene of an obvious crime. Commander Farrow looms at the front of the UHV, his body dark and rigid.

“Speak up, boy.” He squints. “Mr. Lawton, is that you?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m afraid I have bad news. Your vehicle has been vandalized.” I point at the section by his leg.

The commander gives a loud exclamation and bends to examine the damage.

“It goes all the way to this back door.” I hurry to the other side as he strides to check it, keeping my distance in case I smell like hard cider. “Both sides have been badly scored. I’m sorry. I think I could’ve prevented this.”

“How do you figure that?” Commander Farrow straightens to meet my eye over the top of the vehicle.

“At training sessions today I was at my locker pod, and I overheard some guys laughing about how they should mark up your UHV. By the time I closed my locker, I couldn’t tell who’d been talking. I thought it might’ve been a tasteless joke, anyway. I kind of forgot about it until about fifteen minutes ago, when I decided to hike over here and warn you, on the chance they might be serious. Looks like they were.”

“I appreciate the effort.” Commander Farrow’s voice is flint-edged. “If you hear anything more about who did this, let me know. I want these perpetrators caught and punished. With limited dura-coating available, this is reckless vandalism.”

I wipe sweaty palms on my pants. “Yes, sir. Do you want me to round up a sander from the supply station tomorrow to refinish the surface?”

“No, I’ll need to get this taken care of in the morning, and you’ll be in sessions.”

A strident female voice rings out. “Is everything all right, Commander?”

As Commander Farrow turns toward the neighbor, I blurt, “Gotta go, sir. I’m really sorry this happened.”

He waves me away, and I rush off. When I reach the main road, a freakishly wide grin breaks out across my face, and my walk turns into a swagger. What a scorchin’ victory! Like a true rebel, I damaged our alien leader’s transportation and escaped without a mark. This should go a long way toward getting me banished.

The evening suddenly looks even more beautiful than it did before.

“Farrow, Farrow, now who can you trust?” I sing under my breath, while the sounds of the fiddlewings in a nearby field flare into a glorious, chirping chorus.

…

I jerk awake the next morning to a sharp tapping on my bedroom door. I groan. My body feels thick, while my head pounds like thunder echoing in a cave.

“Jay?” Mom’s muffled, concerned voice says. “Aren’t you up yet? Rachel and Tammi have already had their breakfast.”

Torch it all, I overslept. Springing upright, I call, “Sorry, I was studying. I’ll be there in a minute after my shower.”

I snatch clean clothes and stagger down the hall. In the shower, I scrub away incriminating alcohol odors from my body, but I can’t wash away the groggy fatigue and the pounding in my head. Or the guilt that haunts me. Did I really drink alcohol, invent silly songs, and vandalize the commander’s UHV last night? Those things and the lies to cover them are necessary for my banishment plan…but I just don’t feel like myself anymore.

Last night I was lucky Mom and Dad accepted my apology for being out late. I had to talk fast and not let them get close enough to smell me, but the tale of my rescue attempt of Farrow’s UHV gave me a good excuse. The bad thing was that I missed saying good night to Rachel and Tammi. They were already tucked into bed and under the influence of their pills. Another bad thing was that the pill Dad forced on me dissolved a little under my tongue before I could spit it out. Between that and the brew, I conked out almost before my head hit the pillow.

Still feeling gross after I get dressed, I walk into the kitchen. Rachel squeezes me good morning before she flits from the room. Mom and Dad have finished their wheat cereal and human broth, and Tammi is carrying dishes to the sanitizer.

Mom glances at me. “You’ll have to flashwave your scrambled eggs, dear, or eat them cold. No time for fruit, I’m afraid. Hurry, or you’ll miss the transport.”

I try not to shudder at her use of the word “dear.” I slide my plate into the flashwave oven and notice that the broth powder bin sits on the counter, two-thirds full, with the lid resting beside it.

Murderers. There’s proof of their deceit and betrayal sitting right here every day in the kitchen. They smile while they secretly grind up my friends and calmly sip them in a broth each morning and night. Does this broth powder already contain the remains of Nash Redmond? Or what’s left of Ritta, who got a Testing score of fifty-seven?

These aliens slaughtered my brother and made him into food. They killed Chad like he was a farm animal raised to be butchered. My big brother, who taught me how to read and whispered ghost stories across our darkened bedroom. Chad, who played helioball with me and raced me to the transport stop every morning. And a whole galaxy of other things that’ll never be anything more than memories.

My eyes sting. A mindless frenzy rises up inside me. With a deep inhale, I dive for Tammi’s small body. “Gotcha, critter!”

She squeals in high-pitched laughter as I pick her up, twirl her, and step toward the counter. One of her kicking feet hits the powder bin and sends it hurtling to the floor.

Bull’s-eye. It lands with a crash.

Dad goes shock-eyed while Mom screams. I stop swinging Tammi as Mom sinks to the floor, both her hands outstretched. More than half of the powder is scattered across the tiles in a gritty, brown spill.

Mom snatches up the rolling, almost-empty bin. “What have you two done?”

I set Tammi on her feet and pat her toward the hall. She runs off, bursting into tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s my fault. Please don’t get mad at Tammi. I’ll help clean up.”

“No. Just get out of here and go to sessions.” Mom’s eyes flash like a dangerous beast’s. I’ve never seen her this angry. “Now. I mean it.”

My appetite gone, I leave my breakfast while Dad reaches for the broom and dustpan. I collect my sisters and rush them and their packs out the front door, hoping Tammi won’t get in trouble. The spilled broth will help lower my score, but I’ll have to be more careful about how I do things from now on.

At the hoverbus stop, I stroke Tammi’s hair while she sobs into my ribs. I wish I could tell her the truth about why I dumped the bin.

Rachel points down the road. “Here comes the transport.”

Crouching beside Tammi, I brush tears from her round cheeks. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll get the lecture, since it was my fault. Go to sessions and have fun, okay?”

Tammi inhales a wobbly breath. “Okay.”

I watch my sisters board and then wave to them as the bus whirs away. One street over, I wait for the secondary education transport with four other morning session students.

Aubrie arrives in a few minutes, with a broad smile. “Ready to ace the biology exam?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

Her smile falters. “You okay?”

“Skirmish at home. Mom’s majorly ticked. And I have a whomping headache.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” She slips her arm through the bend in mine and rests her head against my shoulder. The sweet smell of her shampoo makes my queasy stomach pitch.

The bus drops us off at the training compound. My first two sessions pass in a headachy haze, and I don’t feel much better by the time biology rolls around. There, Leonard shadows Aubrie and me through the door.

“Hey, secret agent man,” he says with a dark snicker. “You look like the wrong side of a mudworm this morning. How ya feeling?”

“Don’t ask.”

The snicker turns into a cackle. “Welcome to a whole new world.”

Aubrie frowns as Leonard crosses the room to his desk. “What did he mean by that?”

“Nothing.” I sit, cringing at the sharpness of her gaze.

She lowers her voice. “I hope you haven’t been hanging out with him. Or Peyton.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes.”

“You know your mom said—”

“I should be able to hang out with anyone I want,” I say, my words clipped. I concentrate on the trainer’s instructions when the session begins, ignoring the vibes of surprise and irritation coming from across the aisle. I know I need to be careful of offending her, but I’m not in the mood to hear her pushy reminders. If she’d trust me enough to believe what’s going on in Sanctuary, I wouldn’t have to explain a thing.

Numbered datafilm sheets to use for our exam file down the row. Feeling nauseous from my headache, I take a film and pass the rest back. Forget brew drinking—I hate the aftereffects. I’ll find less torturous ways to get banished.

Such as failing this exam? I squint. The questions on the front display screen swarm together like a horde of yellow cellopedes. I can always blame a low score on having a headache or being upset about the broth. I could even blame it on being worried about my ceremony. Indirectly, those are all true reasons. If I don’t do this kind of public thing too much, Aubrie will never know.

Lifting my stylus, I begin the process of getting the first bad grade of my entire life.

…

That evening at the Nebula, technoguitar chords and my friends’ laughter drift into my ears. Aubrie sits next to me, and our empty bowls are stacked on the table. Thankfully, the ache in my skull has faded to a faint throbbing. As I expected, Mom and Dad gave me a lecture when I reached the gardens after sessions. Since the broth spill was an “accident,” I just got scolded about horseplay in the kitchen, followed by a reminder about the importance of food resources. They topped it off by telling me they were able to sweep up most of the powder and dump it back into its bin.

Not what I wanted to hear.

“Hey,” Sean says to our group. “Did you hear how Commander Farrow’s UHV got all scratched up last night?”

“I don’t know why anyone would mess up a beautiful vehicle like that,” Misty says.

I struggle to look concerned and swap a tense look with Harrel. He really needs to quit stalling and agree to let us tell everyone about the aliens and the banishment plan. He can’t protect Misty forever.

Sean shakes his head. “You’d think after Blake and Shelly flunked at the last ceremony, no one would do things like that.”

“Depends on what else this person has done,” Misty says. “Scraping a UHV is bad, but it won’t get anyone banished. I bet it takes a lot to end up with a flunking score. Look how long Mick ran around doing stupid things.”

A bolt of panic shoots through me. True. Mick was a jerk almost his entire life. What exactly did Blake do to cancel out the responsible things he did? How long did he do his secret activity in the woods? I might not have enough time left to sabotage my score. And if I can’t fail my Testing, I won’t be alive to help anyone else. Rachel and Tammi included.

There’s too much at stake. I need more information, and I know who has it. Easing Aubrie from my side, I grab the stack of empty bowls. “Be right back.” I cross the dining area and enter the kitchen.

Konrad is untying his apron, apparently done for the evening. He glares. “Use the bin out there for dirty dishes, Lawton. That’s what it’s for.”

“I know.” I clank the bowls onto the counter. “I want to talk to you.”

Konrad grunts. “The feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Too bad.” I take note of where Peyton’s father stands talking to an older girl at the other end of the kitchen. A couple of other workers scour pots and pans at the sinks. I glare back at Konrad. “Tell me what Blake did to get banished. No messing around this time.”

“I told you, I don’t know what he did.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re full of it. Blast off, man.”

I move closer, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. “Tell me. Last chance, Zemik.”

“Or what?” Konrad laughs, hanging up his apron. “You’ll thrash me with cruel looks or lecture me to death about how I should be more helpful and dependable?”

Pressure builds inside my chest and shoots down my arms. Time is running out. I’m not about to let this sneering punk decide the fate of the entire safe zone.

“I’ll do more than that, you little piece of dung.” I grab the front of his shirt and drag him sideways into a nearby pantry. With my free hand, I shove the door closed.

“Listen up,” I say between gritted teeth, my face pushed up against his. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I’m going to beat it out of you.”