It was probably for the best that she wasn’t going to school; everybody had to know about her arrest by now. And this time Jake wouldn’t be around to protect her.
And then there was Heather. How was she supposed to face Heather?
When Becca didn’t show up at school, would the Monitors report it? Would Internal assume she was guilty after all, and that she had run before they could discover their mistake?
She slowed down as she got closer to the playground. She looked behind her again. Still nobody there. Why did she feel like someone was watching her?
If anyone saw her, if anyone found out what she was doing, she would end up right back in 117 again, and this time her mom wouldn’t be able to save her.
She stopped.
What would have happened to her in 117 if her mom hadn’t come through that door?
She tried to force her legs forward. She had promised herself that no one else would die because of her. What if Jake and his dad died because she had abandoned them?
Her feet were glued to the pavement.
Anyone passing by would be able to see her standing by the side of the road like this. Anyone would be able to guess what she was doing. Helping a dissident. Dissident activity.
A car roared up behind her; her legs nearly buckled. The car sped past and disappeared into the distance. Not Enforcement after all. She gulped in a lungful of air. Her hands shook.
Jake was waiting for her. How long before Internal found him?
With one last look toward the playground, Becca turned and bolted back to the parking lot.
Chapter Seventeen
Becca sleepwalked through her classes. She didn’t hear a single word her teachers said; she only heard the word that followed her through the halls the way it used to circle through her mind.
Most people kept their distance. A few approached her, hanging back as if she might bite. They asked if it was true that Internal had arrested her, that she had helped a dissident escape from 117, that she had been seconds from execution before her mom had forced Internal to let her go. The threats hadn’t started yet, but it was only a matter of time.
As she entered the cafeteria, the roar of conversation quieted. All through the room, heads pointed in her direction. The word echoed off the walls like her footsteps had echoed through the underground levels.
Becca backed up. She would spend lunch somewhere else. Anywhere else. She hadn’t brought anything to eat, but right now just the smell of the cafeteria’s stale pizza was more than her stomach could handle.
At the left-hand table near the door, where the political kids sat, somebody stood up. Becca took another step back; maybe if she left the cafeteria fast enough her would-be tormentor wouldn’t follow.
Wait. That was Heather.
One more reason to get out of there. Becca turned around and grabbed blindly for the door.
Heather reached her just as her fingers closed around the door handle. She threw her arms around Becca like a snake trying to strangle its prey. No… like the way her mom had held her in 117. This wasn’t an attack; it was a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Heather whispered.
Becca pulled away. She held Heather at arm’s length, studied her face for signs that her mom had been telling the truth. Heather’s relief seemed real… but how could she tell? How could she tell about anyone anymore?
“Is it true? Did you turn me in?” She didn’t care who heard her ask. If people thought Heather had reported her, it would just make Heather look better, and Becca should want that, right? She had tried so hard to help Heather; why stop now?
“No! Why would you even think that?” Heather’s denial came a second too late; she looked away as she said it.
“You did. You turned me in.” She said it so softly she almost couldn’t hear herself. She didn’t want to hear herself say it. Didn’t want to face the truth.
“I didn’t do it,” said Heather, pleading now.
“Stop lying to me!” Now her voice was too loud, almost yelling. Nearby conversations quieted again as people listened. She tried to lower her voice. “Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”
“Just let me explain, okay? Please.” Heather grabbed Becca’s hand and tugged her toward the door. Becca let Heather lead her out into the hall. Even listening to Heather explain her betrayal sounded like a better prospect than staying in the cafeteria with all those hostile eyes on her.
Once the door had closed behind them, Heather let go of Becca’s hand. Becca thought about running as fast as she could down the empty hallway, maybe even out the front entrance and all the way home, and leaving Heather here alone with her explanation unspoken. But a part of her wanted to hear it, to know how Heather could have turned on her so thoroughly. She matched Heather’s pace as they wandered.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” said Heather quietly.
Becca didn’t look at Heather; she looked everywhere else so she wouldn’t have to. The lights seemed too bright, the halls too wide, after the dim narrow maze of the underground levels. “What did you do, call them by accident?”
“They came to my house. Two of them. It was a couple of days after I… you know. After I reported Jake.” She cringed away from Becca a little as she said it.
Becca didn’t respond.
“They thought I had warned Jake and his dad. They said I was doing what my parents had done—trying to get Internal to trust me while I secretly worked against them. They said that’s why I joined the Monitors, and why I turned Jake in.”
“So you told them I must have warned him.” Heather had offered Becca up as a sacrifice, as though their years of friendship meant nothing.
Was Becca any better? She had abandoned Jake and his dad.
“I didn’t understand what I had done until it was too late.” Heather’s steps slowed. “I tried to tell you, after. You have to believe me.”
All those unanswered phone calls. Maybe Heather really had tried to warn her.
And what if Becca had died in there? Would Heather’s last-minute change of heart have mattered then?
Heather stopped; so did Becca. Heather didn’t say anything else. She looked at Becca, waiting.
Becca knew what Heather wanted. She wanted Becca to forgive her, to say she understood. To say it was okay that she had almost died because her best friend had only cared about saving herself.
She couldn’t give Heather what she wanted. But she couldn’t walk away, either. Hadn’t she almost made the same decision as Heather? Hadn’t she at least considered it, sitting in that room in 117?
And what about now? What about Jake, hiding in the playhouse, waiting for her?
She didn’t know anymore whether she meant Heather or herself.
That reminder made the situation simpler. Maybe Becca had been tempted to sacrifice Jake after her arrest, but she would never have coldly handed him over to Internal the way Heather had. Heather wasn’t just a coward;
