Once We Were

else.

Peter and I both looked up at the sound of a key turning in the lock. Peter met our eyes again. “I know,” he said. “I understand how you feel, Eva. But you’re going to have to trust me on this one. We’ll talk about it again later. It’s not something that will happen anytime soon. There are still a lot of things to consider.”

Of course there were.

There always were.

Addie and I watched him cross to the dining area, wearing a new smile and touching Emalia’s arm as she came in from the hall. Our head was suddenly aching.

<We can’t let it happen> I said. <Never. Never.>

We weren’t a child anymore, to be packed up and shuttled off on a whim.

<It’s not going to be an issue> I told Addie—and myself—fiercely. <It’s not going to be an issue because Powatt’s never going to open. Sabine’s got a plan.>

Addie wrapped around me, a ghostly, intangible hug. But I could feel her shaking, too.

THIRTEEN

The day of the speech arrived.

We left the apartment a little earlier than normal that afternoon, but otherwise, things started out no differently than usual. Kitty and Nina barely reacted to us leaving anymore, just nodded and went back to watching television on the couch, their head sunk against Emalia’s pillows.

I got caught in the doorway for a moment, just staring at Nina. If something happened today . . . There were so many things that could go wrong. We’d gone over most of them with Sabine and the others, but there were probably so many more that we hadn’t thought of.

Devon and Lissa met us in the hallway. No one spoke. Our tension-lined shoulders said everything.

Josie waited in her car, Cordelia sitting beside her in the front seat. Jackson and Christoph were taking the bus; they’d meet us near the square.

“Ready?” Josie said as we clambered inside. The car looked ancient, the silver paint scratched off in great gashes near the bottom of our door. The handle felt strangely loose in our hand. Inside, a faint musty smell hung over the cracked upholstery.

“Can I open the window?” I asked.

“Sure.” She threw the car into reverse and eased out of her parking space. “Whatever you need.”

Josie’s car ran so low to the ground that every car driving alongside us was a giant, the buses moving mountains. I wasn’t sure what time rush hour was in Anchoit, but the streets were plenty busy now. Every block crawled by.

Finally, we reached Ducine Boulevard, which ran parallel to Lankster. Addie and I had memorized the maps Josie showed us, but the maps had done nothing to prepare us for the throngs of people lining the sidewalks. Parking took an eternity to find. Finally, Josie squeezed into a space several blocks away.

“Is it always this crowded?” Devon asked, slamming his car door shut.

“Depends,” Cordelia said, but her tone said no, not usually. These people were here to listen to the speech.

Christoph and Vince were at the bus stop, exactly where they were supposed to be. We kept our distance so we weren’t one big clump of people moving through the crowd. But eyes met, and we gathered in a back alleyway about a block from the square.

Josie glanced at her wristwatch. “We’ve got twenty minutes until they introduce Nalles. Everyone know exactly what they’re doing?” Her eyes lingered on each of our faces. Seeing who was truly ready and who wasn’t? Who would get the job done, and who might fail?

We wouldn’t fail.

I wouldn’t fail.

I snuck a look at Devon. All of us were at risk today, but none more than him. No way he didn’t realize that. But his eyes, while lacking their usual boredom, didn’t betray a lick of fear or doubt.

Josie nodded at him. “All right. You and I should start heading over to Metro Council. The rest of you can wait around a little more, or go ahead and get set up. Just make sure you’re not spotted. Remember, we meet up at Robenston once this is over.”

Robenston Road was a good mile or two away. Far enough, we hoped, to escape the aftermath of our plans and regroup. Right now, I couldn’t think that far into the future.

<They’ll be all right> I said, more to myself than to Addie. I expected her to say, We should really be worrying about if we’ll be all right. Instead, she was quiet. The worry knifing up our insides wasn’t mine alone.

Christoph was the one staying close to the crowd, judging the situation on the ground. He’d wanted to be a detonator and had argued with Josie about it. He’d lost. Cordelia and Lissa were headed for alleyways a short distance from the square, each carrying a firework in their shoulder bags.

Vince and I were stationed closest to the actual stage, three stories up on two separate rooftops around the perimeter of Lankster Square. The Square sat in the middle of so many buildings; the reverberating echo of each firecracker would confuse anyone trying to figure out where the noise had come from. The posters Vince and I showered down would hopefully add to the chaos.

Addie and I were shaking. Our hands. Our legs. I’d tied up our hair in the car because it had been so stifling, but now it left us feeling exposed. I pulled the hair band free.

Devon and Josie slipped from the alley. Josie without looking back. Devon glanced at his sister, then at Addie and me. But so quick a glance that I could read nothing in it. I watched his retreating back, our stomach tight and sick. I wanted to be with him when he stole into the building. I wanted to be his lookout when he sat down at the computer. Devon and Ryan lost sight of the rest of the world when they concentrated. Someone needed to make sure they were safe. Sabine would be there, but I wished it were me. I didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

But I couldn’t follow them. I had my own job to finish.

The rest of us fiddled around in the alley a few minutes longer. But no one could stay still. Finally, with grim smiles all around, we split up and went our separate ways.

“You worried?” Vince whispered. It was just the two of us now, walking through the street. No one gave us a second glance: Not the crowd of girls in bright sundresses. Not the mother or her surly preteen boy. Not the old man with the newspaper or the young man with the sunglasses or anyone else.

“No,” I lied.

These were the people who would bear witness to our message. They just didn’t know it yet.

Eventually, even Vince left us. Our rooftop was farther from the square than his, and accessible only by a metal ladder that clanked with each step. Addie and I were halfway up when we heard a roaring cheer.

I stopped climbing. From this distance and height, we could only see a small portion of the crowd; buildings blocked the rest of the square. But we could hear the people, loud and clear. They sounded happy. They sounded like they were at a football game or a concert.

Cold sweat pasted our shirt to our back. We clung to the ladder and stared at that sliver of the crowd, picturing its entirety. How many people had shown up because they believed every word of Jenson’s speech? Because they wanted nothing more than a cure, and they were so proud that the Powatt institution would aid in its perfection?

Below us thundered hundreds of people who hated us, and they didn’t even know who we were.

<Keep climbing> Addie said.

I forced us upward and upward until we reached the edge of the roof. The wind had picked up, or maybe we just felt it more strongly here. We took one more moment to stare at Lankster Square and the colored shapes of the people below.