Lev turns to see the towheaded kid with the emerald-green eyes standing behind him. 'That's my cubby. Yours is over there.'
Lev looks around and realizes he's off by one bed. There's nothing in the unit to identify one bed, or one cubby, from another.
'If you need socks, I can lend you.'
'No, I've got enough of my own, thanks.' He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes to get his panic under control, and goes to the right cubby. The sock with the detonators is there. He slips it in his pocket.
'You okay, Lev? You look kinda funny.'
'I'm fine. I've just been running, that's all. Running on the treadmill.'
'No, you haven't,' says the kid. 'I was just in the gym.'
'Listen, mind your own business, okay? I'm not your buddy, I'm not your friend.'
'But we oughta be friends.'
'No. You don't know me. I'm not like you, okay, so just leave me alone!'
Then he hears a deeper voice behind him. 'That's enough, Lev.'
He turns to see a man in a suit. It's not one of the pastors but the counselor who admitted him a week ago. This can't be good.
The counselor nods to the towheaded kid. 'Thank you, Sterling.' The boy casts his eyes down and hurries out. 'We assigned Sterling to keep an eye on you and make sure you're adjusting. We are, to say the least, concerned.'
Lev sits in a room with the counselor, and two pastors. The sock bulges in his pocket. He bounces his knees nervously, then remembers he's not supposed to make any jarring motions, or he might detonate. He forces himself to stop.
'You seem troubled, Lev,' says the counselor. 'We'd like to understand why.'
Lev looks at the clock. It's 12:48. Twelve minutes until he, Mai, and Blaine are supposed to meet and take care of business.
'I'm being tithed,' Lev says. 'Isn't that enough of a reason?'
The younger of the two pastors leans forward. 'We try to make sure every tithe enters the divided state in the proper frame of mind.'
'We wouldn't be doing our job if we didn't try to make things right for you,' says the elder pastor, then offers a smile so forced, it's more like a grimace.
Lev wants to scream at them, but he knows that won't get him out of here any faster. 'I just don't like being around other kids right now. I'd rather prepare for this alone, okay?'
'But it's not okay,' says the older pastor. 'That's not the way we do things here. Everyone supports one another.'
The junior pastor leans forward. 'You need to give the other boys a chance. They're all good kids.'
'Well maybe I'm not!' Lev can't help but look at the clock again. Twelve fifty. Mai and Blaine will be in place in ten minutes, and what if he's still here in this stinking office? Won't that be just great.
'Have somewhere you need to be?' the counselor asks. 'You keep checking the time.'
Lev knows his answer needs to make sense or they truly will become suspicious of him. 'I . . . I heard the kid who kidnapped me was being unwound today. I was just wondering if it had happened yet.'
The pastors look at one another and at the counselor, who leans back in his chair, as calm as can be. 'If he hasn't been, he will be shortly. Lev, I think it would be healthy for you to discuss what happened to you while you were held hostage. I'm sure it was horrible, but talking about it can take away the power of the memory. I'd like to hold a special group tonight with your unit. It will be a time for you to share with the others what you've been holding inside. I think you'll find they'll be very understanding.'
'Tonight,' says Lev. 'Okay. Fine. I'll talk about everything tonight. Maybe you're right and it will make me feel better.'
'We just want to ease your mind,' says one of the pastors.
'So, can I go now?'
The counselor studies him for a moment more. 'You seem so tense. I'd like to talk you through some guided relaxation exercises. . . .'
63. Guard
He hates his job, he hates the heat, he hates that he has to stand in front of the Chop Shop for hours guarding the doors, making sure no one unauthorized enters or leaves. He had dreams back in StaHo of starting a business with his buddies, but no one loans start-up money to StaHo kids. Even after he changed his last name from Ward to Mullard—the name of the richest family in town—he couldn't fool anyone. Turns out half the kids from his state home took on that name when they left, figuring they could outsmart the world. In the end, he outsmarted no one but himself. The best he could do was find a series of unfulfilling jobs in the year he's been out of StaHo—the most recent of which is being a harvest camp guard.
On the roof, the band has started its afternoon set. At least that helps the time to pass a little more quickly.
Two Unwinds approach, and climb the steps toward him. They're not being escorted by guards and both carry plates covered with aluminum foil. The guard doesn't like the look of them. The boy's a flesh-head. The girl is Asian.
'What do you want? You're not supposed to be here.'
'We were told to give this to the band.' They both look nervous and shifty.
This is nothing new. All Unwinds get nervous near the Chop Shop—and to the guard, all Unwinds look shifty.
The guard peeks under the aluminum foil. Roast chicken. Mashed potatoes.
They do send food up to the band once in a while, but usually it's staff that carries the food, not Unwinds. 'I thought they just had lunch.'
'Guess not,' says the flesh-head. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere in the world but standing in front of the Chop Shop, so the guard decides to draw it out, making them stand there even longer.
'I'll have to call this in,' he says. He pulls out his phone and calls the front office. He gets a busy signal. Typical. The guard wonders which he'd get in more trouble for—letting them bring the food in, or turning them away if they really were sent by administration. He considers the plate in the girl's hands. 'Let me see that.' He peels back the foil and takes the largest chicken breast. 'Go in through the glass doors, and the stairs are to your left. If I see you go anywhere but up the stairs, I'll come in there and tranq you so fast, you won't know what hit you.'
Once they're inside, they're out of sight, out of mind. He doesn't know that although they went into the stairwell, they never brought the food to the band—they just ditched the plates. And he never noticed the little round Band-Aids on their palms.
64. Connor
Connor looks out of the dormitory window, devastated. Lev is here at Happy Jack. How he got here doesn't matter; all that matters is that Lev will now be unwound. It's all been for nothing. Connor's sense of futility makes him feel like a part of himself has already been cut out and taken to market.
'Connor Lassiter?'
He turns to see two guards at the entrance. Around him, most of the kids have left the unit for their afternoon activity. The ones that remain take a quick glance at the guards, and at Connor, then look away, busying themselves in anything that will keep them out of this business.
