“You think I’m spying for Internal.” The same thing she had thought about him at first. It was almost funny.
“No,” said Jake. “I don’t. I believe every word you’ve told me. But… I can’t take the chance.”
Becca wished she couldn’t understand. She wished she couldn’t see the distinction. It would make things easier. At least then she could channel some of her energy into raging at Jake.
But if she were in his position, she wouldn’t want to take the chance either.
No matter what she said, no matter how much he trusted her, she was still her mother’s daughter.
She wanted to scream.
She nodded. Her restrained energy made the motion jumpy and unnatural. “I understand.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but a tiny part of her was relieved.
The rest of her wanted to tear the playhouse apart.
She drummed her fingers against the floor. It didn’t help. Her fingers came away coated in dust and unidentifiable grime. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hands off on her jeans.
Jake looked at his watch. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to get home. I don’t like leaving my dad alone for this long.”
She let him go without protest. His presence wasn’t comforting anymore. Seeing him there, knowing he could give her a way out of this but wouldn’t, only fed her frustration.
In the doorway, Jake stopped. “I’m sorry.”
“I said I understand.”
He didn’t leave. “Be careful, okay? Maybe you shouldn’t go home. Just in case.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
With one last reluctant look, he left, and she was alone again.
Right back where she had started.
What now? She couldn’t hide in this playhouse forever. But if she went home, there were two possibilities— either she’d go back to the way things were before, to unsuccessfully trying to keep herself from exploding, or she’d end up in an underground cell in 117. And she had no way of knowing which it would be.
The walls she had cowered against a couple of hours ago now felt like they were closing in on her. She stood convulsively and all but ran the couple of steps out the door.
And found herself staring at a wide-eyed, white-faced Heather.
“How long have you been here?” Becca asked. But the look on Heather’s face told her everything she needed to know.
“Long enough.” Heather was looking at her like she was a stranger. A monster.
A dissident.
“After your phone call, I couldn’t sleep.” She spoke quietly, but the stillness of the night air amplified her words. “I kept worrying about you. I knew you said it was nothing, but you sounded like something was seriously wrong. And after everything you did for me, I figured I owed it to you to at least find out if you were okay. So I took my aunt’s car and drove down here.” She stopped.
“And you heard me talking to Jake,” Becca finished.
“I hid when he came out,” said Heather. “After that, I wanted to come in and talk to you, but… I didn’t know what to say.”
Becca scrambled for some explanation she could give Heather, something to make her conversation with Jake seem innocuous. She came up with nothing.
Moonlight glinted off Heather’s Monitor pin, giving the metallic eye a vicious gleam.
Maybe Becca didn’t need to worry about her mom reporting her after all. Maybe Heather would do it before her mom had a chance.
And what about Jake?
This was Becca’s fault. She had called Heather and then asked Jake to come here. She had asked Jake for the contact information. She was responsible for whatever Heather had overheard—and whatever happened to Jake because of it.
The question was on Becca’s lips, but she couldn’t ask it.
“Jake isn’t even working with the dissidents,” she said instead. “You heard him—he doesn’t want to help them.”
“But he hasn’t reported them. That makes him as guilty as they are.” She paused. “And if I don’t turn you in, I’m as guilty as you are.”
She was going to do it. She was going to report them.
The playground looked the same as it had on that night a week ago when she had finally admitted she was a dissident, but the shadows didn’t unsettle her now. Patterns of light and darkness on the ground weren’t threatening. The real threat was standing in front of her—her best friend, ready to make the phone call that would kill her.
“I kept wondering why you were saying all those things about Internal.” The look on Heather’s face reminded Becca of the way she had looked at her mom after she had found the evidence in that file. “I told myself you were still upset about what happened to my parents, and you weren’t thinking clearly. Or that maybe your mom had told you to test me. I guess I didn’t want to see the truth about you.”
Becca fought the urge to run. What good would running do, anyway? “I just want to stop what happened to your parents from happening to anybody else. I know you keep telling yourself they deserved to die, but they didn’t.”
Heather rubbed her pin like it would protect her from Becca’s words. “They were my parents. Not yours. You don’t have any right to talk about what they did or didn’t deserve.”
Did Heather think Becca deserved to die, too? Becca didn’t want to ask. She was afraid of the answer.
“I can’t lose you like I lost them.” Heather was almost talking to herself now. She stared at nothing. “I can’t let you turn into what they turned into.”
“If you report me, Internal will kill me,” said Becca. “Just like them.”
Heather didn’t say anything.
All the years they’d spent together, and this was how it would end?
“After what happened to your parents, I did everything I could to help you,” Becca said into the silence. “Do this for me now. Don’t turn us in.” She heard herself as if from very far away. Heard the futility of her words.
Heather stood so still Becca wondered for a moment if she had simply shut down.
“I’m not going to turn you in,” she said finally. She took both Becca’s hands in her own. “I’m going to help you.”
Becca almost melted with relief.
“Thank you,” she said, but Heather was still talking.
“I thought this was about my parents. But it wasn’t, was it? It was him. He did this to you.”
“Jake?” No. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Heather had said she wouldn’t turn them in.
Or had she only meant she wouldn’t turn
“It has nothing to do with him.” Becca’s voice sped up as she tried to get the words out before it was too late, before Heather did something irrevocable. “I didn’t even know about him until after. And he’s not dangerous. He’s not interested in fighting the government. All he wants to do is take care of his dad.”
“He’s a dissident.” Heather spat the word. “But there might still be hope for you.” She gripped Becca’s hands tightly enough to cut off the blood flow. “You helped me. Now it’s my turn to help you.”
Becca pulled her hands away. “Please.” But she had nothing to follow it up with, no way to convince Heather not to do this.
Becca had killed him.
“Do you understand what this will mean? What I’ll be doing?” Heather touched the pin again, then jerked her hand away as if it had burned her. “Not turning you in, after what I heard… that’s
She rushed away, toward her aunt’s car parked by the side of the road.
