Graduation Day (15 page)

“Do you know how to turn on the irrigation system?” I ask, concentrating on the smoke instead of Marin's lifeless face. The plants inside are too green and healthy and the air too humid for everything to catch fire. Only the plants that were directly under the flare from the black powder burned, and while I doubt that they still burn, turning on the irrigation system will ensure that the fire goes out. It should also help dissipate the poisonous fumes that linger in the air.

“Stay here.”

“No.” I struggle to my feet. “I'll come with you.” Despite the pain that moving causes, I don't want to be alone.

Tomas slides an arm around my shoulder and helps me walk down the hall to the control booth. I ease into a wooden chair and watch as Tomas works the controls.

It takes him three tries to remember the sequence of buttons but eventually water sprays from pipes that hang from the greenhouse ceiling. After several minutes, Tomas turns off the water, hits a button marked Fan, and says, “Stay here. I'll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“The fence needs to be put back where it was, and I need to move the bodies where they won't be discovered. Between the water and the fan, it should be safe to reenter the greenhouse.”

“I'll help,” I say, starting to rise again.

“No.” Tomas puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back into the chair. “Stay here. Please. This is something I need to do by myself.”

Unshed tears shimmer in his eyes. I want nothing more than to hold him and help ease his pain. But I don't. I know Tomas is trying to stay strong in front of me. So I just squeeze his hand and watch him leave.

Several minutes pass before Tomas appears behind the observation glass window. I watch him replace the fence so that it once again signals danger. Then he reaches down and picks up Marin's lifeless body. His jaw tightens as his cheek brushes against Marin's shoulder. Then with the body cradled in his arms, he disappears from view. When he returns, Tomas tries to lift Kerrick, but the weight is too much. He grips Kerrick's ankles and drags the body away. I find myself wishing I had asked him to remove their bracelets as we did for those who fell during The Testing. To remember. As if we could ever forget.

I reach into my bag and check the tracking monitor. Both devices are located near each other, not far to the south of where I am now. I am glad to see two lights on the screen. It means Raffe's is still active. He has not yet failed his test. It is something to be grateful for.

Tomas's face is flushed but free of tears when he returns with medical supplies.

“Are you okay?” I ask, even though I know he's not. How could he be after what has happened?

“Let's worry about getting you patched up. Then we'll talk.” He kneels on the ground and rolls up my pants leg. I flinch when I see the bloody tear in my flesh. I focus on Tomas's face as he wipes the wound with a wet cloth. I bite my lip and taste blood but I do not call out.

Tomas's hands shake as he spreads a healing ointment on my leg. As the medication begins to leech the pain from my flesh, he grabs the bandages and says, “Kerrick likes to help first- and second-year students with genetics homework. He has a way of explaining things that makes the most complicated theory accessible. He's easy to talk to, and he never forgets a single detail. His memory is incredible.”

Likes. Has. Is. All present-tense. Despite carrying his dead body, Tomas has not accepted that Kerrick is gone.

“You talked to Kerrick about Dreu Owens.”

“You said Dreu had been given a job in Genetic studies. I was hoping that because Kerrick's internship involves genetics, he might have heard of him.”

“Had he?”

“Kerrick says Dreu was assigned to the lab where he interned during his first year. He was working with a team to identify mutated genes in raccoons and rabbits. They were hoping once those genes are identified they can find a way to isolate the mutation and eventually eliminate it.”

“Where's Dreu Owens now?” I ask.

“Kerrick wasn't sure.” Tomas frowns. “He suggested I go through the files he used for his research project. The files he said are kept in one of the offices in this building.”

“Did you talk about anything else?” Anything that would cause this kind of attack?

“He was curious why I was looking for Dreu now instead of when I first came to the University. When I said you overheard someone at the president's office mention Dreu and the fact that he, too, was from Five Lakes, Kerrick said I might want to wait to go through the records and look for Dreu. Otherwise teachers might assume I have too much free time and come up with more work for me to do. I thought he was just joking the way he always does.”

Instead, Kerrick was issuing a warning to Tomas. To stay away from Dreu Owens. Tomas didn't, and now Kerrick and Marin are dead.

“They must have been members of the rebellion.” It's the only explanation I can come up with. “Zeen said the rebels had been given orders to remove anyone who might interfere with the success of their mission. Either Dreu has something to do with the rebellion or just mentioning his name was enough to cause worry that you could disrupt their plans.”

The sound of a door slamming makes us jump. Someone is in the building.

“You need to get out of here.” Tomas helps me to my feet.

“What about you?”

“I'll go, too, but first I want to look around the offices and see if the files Kerrick talked about really exist. I doubt it, but if Dreu is important to the rebellion, it would be good to know why. Kerrick and Marin lost their lives. I'd rather it wasn't for nothing.” Tomas looks out into the hall. “This way.”

He leads me to the unlocked westernmost entrance he arrived through and tells me to wait as he steps out and looks around. A moment later, he leads me out into the cool, crisp air.

“How's the leg?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“Good.” Tomas runs a hand over my cheek but then frowns. “I don't think we can wait much longer to put the president's plan into action. If Kerrick was ready to attack on the chance I might interfere with the rebellion, there's no telling what the other rebel students might do. This place could end up as a battleground any moment. If we're going to finish this, we have to act now.”

Anger simmers below Tomas's logic. One of his hands is clenched in a fist at his side. He who once wished to flee has found in Kerrick's and Marin's deaths the need to fight.

“Stacia is in. If everything goes according to plan, by tomorrow morning the others will be, too.” I entwine my fingers through his. “Then we make this right.”

I stand on tiptoe and place a kiss on Tomas's jaw. Then, as much as I hate leaving him, I turn and walk toward the south. When I glance back to look for him, he's gone. My leg aches as I hurry down the walkway. The pain reminds me that the bullet that ripped open my pants also left them stained with blood. I can't go back to the residence looking like this.

I duck into one of the Science buildings at the edge of campus, locate the bathroom on the first floor, and change into the pair of gray pants I have in my bag. I wash the blood from my hands and then run my fingers through my hair in an effort to erase all evidence of my time at the stadium. In the past several days, three students have died on account of my actions. At any moment another might be injured or killed because of something I created. Somehow, remarkably, my image in the reflector looks unchanged. How wrong that seems and yet how lucky it's true. Because there is still so much more to do before this ends. Maybe once it is over people will understand what I have become. Maybe I'll understand as well.

Since classes have ended, I am not the only one hurrying to get back to the residence. That allows me to move quickly without worry that I will attract attention. Despite the dread that churns inside me, when I reach the Government Studies building I put a smile on my face and walk through the residence's front door. The sound of laughter trickles down the hall. After everything that has happened, I long for the relative safety of my quarters upstairs. Instead, I head down the hall and glance into the main gathering room. Raffe isn't there, so I head for the stairs.

When I reach the second-floor landing, I make a decision. Instead of going up to the third floor, I turn and walk toward the door marked with a coiled spring. Raffe's symbol. For the first time I wonder which kind of spring Raffe's symbol is meant to be: a tension coil that stretches and shifts to work with the machine it's a part of or a compression coil that will not allow itself to be pushed down. Is Raffe the type who truly wishes to resist the current methods of selecting our leaders, or is he working with his father and Symon to prevent change? I raise my fist and pound on the door. The time has come to find out.

When the door opens, in spite of the monitor's assurance, I let out a sigh of relief to see Raffe alive and whole.

As soon as I step over the threshold, Raffe closes the door and throws the lock. “I was starting to worry. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Not exactly.” I look around for signs of listening devices or cameras. The room is almost the same size as mine and contains the same table, chairs, and sofa, but Raffe has transformed the space. A blue and white quilt hangs over the top of the couch. A handwoven rug with a circular blue design lies in the middle of the floor. And hanging on the walls are paintings. Some framed, others affixed at the corners with adhesive strips. Abstract swirling colors. Beautiful renderings of flowers and trees. And in the center is the largest canvas. Deep brown wood frames the portrait of a girl with light blue eyes, dark blond hair, and a chin the same shape as the chin on the boy who stands in front of me. She isn't what I would call beautiful, but there is something striking about her face, and the look in her eyes is haunting.

“I don't normally let people in here.” Raffe stands next to the painting. Now that his face is beside the girl's, the resemblance is even more pronounced. “I don't think we have a lot of art lovers under this roof.”

I look at the slashes of vibrant colors next to muted earth tones and find myself wishing Zandri were here to explain why these paintings make me want to catch my breath. She'd understand the emotions on these canvases because she had this kind of talent. The talent to make someone feel without saying a word.

“They're wonderful.”

“Thank you.”

The pride in his voice makes me turn. “You made these?”

“Only a couple of them. The rest belong to my sister.” He glances at the girl in the frame and I wonder—is she the sister he referred to long ago? If so, she is part of the reason he sought to ally himself with me. Raffe promised he would trust me with his secrets if I trusted him with mine. This painting and his having passed my test tell me the time for sharing those secrets has come.

“Do you have a piece of paper I can borrow?” I ask.

Raffe looks confused, but disappears into his bedroom and returns with a paper and pencil. Taking a seat at the table, I write a note and hand it to him. He reads it, shakes his head, and together we begin to search for signs that we are being recorded. Because Raffe has more possessions than I, our search takes longer than mine did, but when the two of us are done, we haven't found anything. Whoever is listening to me has not found reason to be suspicious of Raffe.

Quickly, I tell him about what happened at the stadium. The ambush. The dead students Tomas disposed of. And finally, I tell him about my trip to see the president, what she asked of me, and what I now ask of him.

“I knew Kerrick,” he says, taking a seat across the table from me.

“I'm sorry.”

“You and Tomas did what you had to do to stay alive. Now we're going to do what is necessary to end this. Right?”

“Before you agree to help,” I say, reaching into my bag, “you need to see this.” I slide the president's list of names across the table and watch Raffe as he reads. When his hand tightens on the paper, I know he has reached his father's name. If I saw my father's name there, I would rip up the paper. Yell. Cry. Plead. And if that didn't work, I'd find a way to warn him. I would do anything to keep him safe. Raffe just stares at the paper in his hand.

The silence stretches until he quietly says, “Some of these names don't belong here.”

“Your father—”

“No. These names—” He grabs a pencil and puts stars next to five names on the list. “I've heard my father rant enough about them to know they don't get along well with Dr. Barnes. I've even heard my father ask Dr. Barnes why he keeps them around instead of insisting on their transfers. Unless I'm mistaken, they don't believe in The Testing any more than you do. The president or maybe Symon has reasons for wanting them dead, though I can't tell you what they are. But my father . . .” Raffe's anger-filled eyes meet mine. “My father belongs on this list. He's a part of what needs to end. We both know my father's aware of what happens to Testing candidates who don't pass. There's a penalty worse than simple failure for Tosu City students who fail even the entrance exam and my father not only knows this, he believes it is right.”

I blink. “I assumed Tosu students were allowed to go home after they were told they didn't pass.” Otherwise, why would their parents let them risk failing the exam? Or does the chance to be one of the country's leaders mean that much to those who live here in Tosu City?

Raffe stands and walks toward the portrait. “They don't go home, but everyone in Tosu City believes the unsuccessful applicants are assigned to jobs outside the city. I believed that. It's what we've all been told, so why would I think any different? There are even people who swear they've heard from family members who were assigned jobs in the colonies. Important jobs working with new solar power technology or on innovative communication systems. I've heard friends of my parents brag about their child who has succeeded despite failing to pass the University entrance exam. Some have even mentioned it to Dr. Barnes in order to point out that he made a mistake grading the tests.”