we leave, we should simply sneak away.
Vanya calls forward a set of candidates. “Song Jackson, Dorian Chasm, Juno McIntire, Martha Spencer, Quinn Caffrey, and Clarice Bird, please come onto the stage,” Vanya says. Dorian is the only person to stand. “All of you,” Vanya says.
“Here goes nothing,” Quinn says, and files onto the stage with the others. Most of them seem petrified, or at least nervous, but not Dorian. Since when did he decide that this was what he wanted?
“I present to you . . . our academics,” Vanya announces. There are cheers, presumably from other academics. “Please cover your heads,” Vanya directs. The hoods completely shroud the top halves of their faces. “The pairings have been scientifically chosen to ensure each person in Sequoia has a mate who is a true fit.” Vanya consults a list. “Please hold out your hands.” Vanya takes Song and another person’s hand and guides them to the front of the stage. “Presenting Song Jackson and Martha Spencer,” she says. They are made to kneel, then Vanya places a hand on each of their heads and closes her eyes. “Future generations will mark these days. May your union assist humanity. And may you strive for the greater good.”
“For the greater good,” the room chants. Vanya bows as though she’s performed a magic trick and pushes back the hoods on their robes. Song and Martha look at each other for the first time. Is he trembling? Vanya forces them to hold hands, and Song stumbles as they stand. Martha holds him up. After what happened to Holly, I’m surprised he’s been so composed about the process until now.
Vanya chooses another pair: Quinn and the girl called Clarice. Quinn’s the only one on stage wearing a mask, and I can sense the audience staring at him. He and Clarice kneel before Vanya who gives her speech and unites them.
Dorian is next, and once he has been paired, he leads his partner, Juno, to the side where he immediately lets go of her hand. Now he’s seen her, a round-faced, plain-looking girl with mild acne, he doesn’t look as keen on conforming. He leans as far away from Juno as he can.
Maks directs them to a set of seats at the back of the stage. There’s nothing funny about the pairings and nothing funny about Sequoia either, but seeing Dorian disappointed, his illusions shattered, makes me smile.
Vanya announces that there will be another group of academics. She calls out names I don’t recognize, and more robed candidates mount the stage. I blot out her voice and gaze through the glass ceiling at the black sky dotted with blinking stars. It looks just like the night I slept in the trees at The Grove—before the whole world came crashing to the ground. The peace I felt in those moments was like nothing else, curling up in the thick silence of space.
It isn’t long until my name is called. “Alina Moon, Silas Moon, Wren Darson, Sugar Collins, and Abel Boone, please come up.” And I am facing a hundred Sequoians shifting impatiently in their seats. Those who are paying attention are peering at Silas and me peculiarly, because, like Quinn, we’re wearing facemasks. But they can go screw themselves—they know nothing about who we are or what we’ve sacrificed to be here.
Apart from Silas, who
“Let me present the troopers,” Vanya says, and then Silas’s name is announced along with Wren’s. I can’t imagine what he must be thinking or feeling. Losing Inger is bad enough, but now this. Now
And Vanya speaks again. “Presenting Abel Boone and Sugar Collins,” she says. My chest tightens. I pull back the hood a few inches and watch Abel and Sugar hold hands and awkwardly step aside. Senseless jealousy ripples through me. There is a murmuring in the audience because I am the last candidate. Does this mean I won’t be paired? It feels like a blessing not to be, and yet. . . . My stomach knots.
Vanya forces me to kneel and places a hand on my head as she did with the others. All I can see from under my hood are the feet of the audience. Vanya clears her throat and this is enough to silence the murmuring crowd. “A person gets paired once. This has always been our rule. But what if a pairing goes wrong? What if, when we check the test results, we discover an error? Jo Rose fled Sequoia and returned to us a few days ago. Why did she flee? She knew she was wrongly stationed, and as a result we have retested her and discovered that she never should have been made a trooper nor paired. Jo has been reevaluated and will become a benefactor, and like all benefactors, she will be our conscience. She will spend her days in a meditative state and attract good energy to Sequoia. This is a role only a select few are cut out for, and it is a role many find difficult to understand. Jo is desperately needed.” The audience is silent, soaking in the news. “Jo’s other will be re-paired today.”
No . . .
I bite on my tongue, and the floor creaks as he kneels. The blood pumping through my ears thrums. Silas and I should have escaped last night when we had the chance, or this morning like he suggested.
We’d seen enough.
My hood is removed and Maks is smiling at me using only one side of his mouth. He offers me his hand. I have no choice but to take it and join the others at the side of the stage.
Maks puts an arm around my waist and tries to pull me close. “Don’t!” I say, but he leaves his hand resting on my hip. So I pinch it—hard.
All he does is laughs and moves his hand to the back of my neck, where he pulls on the straps of my facemask. “Careful,” he whispers.
Vanya is speaking again, inviting Maude and Bruce onto the stage. They are pronounced benefactors. “That’s about right. Always been generous, me,” Maude says, which gets a laugh.
The ceremony comes to an end and we’re escorted out. The audience is on its feet applauding, but I can’t help noticing that some of the faces look irredeemably sad.
Someone stands on the hem of my robe, and when I turn, Abel is shuffling after me holding Sugar’s hand. He has the same terrified stare he had when we were stealing from the biosphere. “I’m sorry for asking you to stay. I had no idea you’d get him,” he whispers. Thankfully, Maks is several paces ahead and can’t hear.
“It’s too late for apologies,” I say, though this isn’t really his fault.
Abel lets go of Sugar, who squints when he presses his mouth close to my ear. “Maude and Bruce are in trouble. And so is Jo,” he says.
“What?” I stop walking.
“They could die. We have to—” He stops as Maks pushes back through the crowd to get to me.
“Alina,” Maks growls. “Come on.”
“Abel?” I say, but he can’t tell me any more because Maks has my arm and is dragging me away.
34
BEA
The sound of an engine puttering to a halt in the street below wakes me. And then Jude Caffrey’s voice. “RONAN!”
Ronan tears out of the room as I crawl off the bed. By the time I get to the window, he’s already with Jude Caffrey, standing next to the buggy. Jude puts his arm over Ronan’s shoulder, and for a moment I imagine it’s Quinn. My nose tingles: Ronan, Quinn, and I have all lost our fathers.
It’s dawn and the buildings draw thick belts of golden light across the street. I step away from the window. I’m really doing this—I’m teaming up with Jude Caffrey.
Footsteps knock on the stairs and Ronan appears. “Ready?” A shaft of light illuminates the top half of his face. His eyes are bloodshot, dark circles beneath them. He must have been up all night.
“Did you tell him?” I ask. He comes to the corner where I’m scooping my things into a backpack and takes my hand. I snatch it away. “Does he know about me?”
“He knows.”
“He’ll help? He’ll protect me and recruit Resistance members to the army?”
“Yes,” he says, and beams. I throw my arms around him, unable to contain my own joy. “Oh, Ronan, do you think we can really oust the Ministry?”
“We’re about to try,” he says.
He pulls several packets of nutrition and protein bars and two spare airtanks from his backpack and throws
