Graduation Day (7 page)

For a moment I look at the bridge. I imagine what it would be like to leave behind this place and everything I know. Then I turn and walk to the residence. Because there is too much at stake. I might not be able to stop what is to come, but I cannot leave without trying, or without learning what has become of my brother.

The sight of two officials in ceremonial purple greets me as I walk through the entryway of the residence. Enzo is nowhere to be seen. The minute the officials see me, the one on the left takes a step forward and says, “Malencia Vale?”

I try to keep the concern I feel off my face as I nod.

“Professor Holt asked that you report to her in the main common room once you arrived. She'll be glad to know you are safe.”

While I am not sure Professor Holt will feel delight upon seeing me, I thank the official for his message. I then head in the direction of the common room, hoping I did not make the wrong decision when I chose to stay instead of run.

I walk down the hall to the large room that we use for residence gatherings, studying, and relaxing in between classes. Professor Holt is seated near the large stone fireplace. Her squared shoulders, her short cap of red hair, and the crimson color of her clothing give her an undeniable air of authority. Across the room, several upper-year students are standing in small groups. It only takes one of them noticing my approach for Professor Holt to turn toward me. Her almond-shaped eyes narrow behind her thickly framed glasses before she turns back to the students gathered nearby. A look from Professor Holt sends them hurrying out the door, leaving the two of us alone.

Forcing a smile, I say, “You asked to see me, Professor Holt?”

I stand motionless while Professor Holt studies me. My heart hammers as I think of Enzo's words, the lie he swore he told, and the gray paper in my bag. In my mind I picture Professor Holt's name written in firm black letters beneath that of Dr. Barnes. Would she understand the purpose of the list if for some reason she asked to see the contents of my bag? And what would she say if she saw the gun and the transmitters?

“Please, take a seat.” Professor Holt waves me into the faded armchair across from her.

I sit, wishing I could have found a plausible reason to stand, since I had the advantage of height and the ability to run. Sitting with my bag on my lap, I am very aware of being at the mercy of Professor Holt and the University if the answers I give are not correct.

Professor Holt leans back in her chair and asks, “Have you been experiencing any problems in your classes or with your internship?”

The subject matter catches me off-guard. I blink twice and consider her seemingly innocuous words. After being assigned to the Government studies program, my fellow students and I were given class schedules. I was assigned nine classes—the most of any first-year student. Failure to keep up with the course load is monitored closely. Some students who struggled have already been Redirected out of the University. According to my guide, Ian, I have been watched more carefully than my peers for signs of difficulty. There was something about me that Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt found troubling long before my untracked disappearance from campus this morning. Something that goes back to The Testing. Even with my returned memories, I have not been able to puzzle out what that something is. And not now, with Professor Holt staring at me, waiting for an answer.

My admitting my workload is difficult could give her an opening to doubt my abilities as a student, but saying I am managing my schedule with ease is a lie. One she will certainly call me on. Without understanding her agenda, I carefully say, “It's a challenge to keep up with all of the work, but I'm determined to succeed.”

“I'm sure you are.” Professor Holt's smile fades. “Damone Pyburn was determined as well, but he appears to have vanished from campus. He has not been seen since last night. When your friends could not find you, I was concerned you might have disappeared as well.”

Her eyes flick to the bracelet on my wrist. A sure sign that my whereabouts were never in doubt. I wonder if Damone's bracelet is currently able to be tracked and if Professor Holt knows he is at the bottom of the chasm that surrounds this building. Or does the tear in the earth go too deep for her and Dr. Barnes to trace with a short-range transmitter?

Giving her an embarrassed smile, I say, “I apologize if I caused anyone to worry. I had some questions about a project I'm working on and decided to go to the president's office to get some answers.”

If Professor Holt looks for the lie in my words she won't find one.

Nodding, she says, “I appreciate your dedication to your studies, as I'm sure the president does. And, of course, you left before I requested that students remain in the residence so that I could discuss Damone's unusual disappearance with all of you individually. So, you had no way of knowing that you went against my explicit instructions.”

“I would never have left had I known I was instructed to stay on campus.”

Her lips purse. “Well, now that you're back, perhaps you can tell me whether you had cause to speak with or spend time with Damone Pyburn before he went missing.”

I consider my words carefully as I say, “Despite our being on the same team during Induction, I don't know Damone very well. He made it clear that he wasn't interested in being friends with colony students, so we rarely if ever spoke.”

“And yet you saved his life—twice.”

Only to end it later.

I stifle the urge to shift in my seat and say, “It was the right thing to do for my team.”

“And you always do the right thing.”

“No,” I answer honestly. “Growing up, I was taught that it's impossible to know what the right thing always is. The best you can do is to try to do what you think is right for yourself and the people around you.”

Professor Holt stares at me for a minute as if trying to read hidden meanings in my words. Finally she says, “I have been told that you were absent from the residence
twice
today.”

Blood pounds in my ears. Cautiously, I nod. “I went into the city.”

“The first time was with Raffe Jeffries. Yes, I spoke with him earlier. He gave me an account of your outing. Perhaps you'd like to give me yours.”

What to say? I do not know the explanation Raffe gave Professor Holt for our leaving campus. If my answer does not match the one he gave, Professor Holt will question everything I have said thus far. And I have used my internship to cover my journey to the city this afternoon. I can't use the same excuse for Raffe and me going out this morning.

Hoping Raffe didn't tell an elaborate story, I say, “Raffe knows I haven't had much of a chance to explore Tosu City. We ran into each other before breakfast and he volunteered to show me around.”

Professor Holt tilts her head to the side. “What time did you and Mr. Jefferies meet?”

Breakfast starts at seven-thirty. “Around seven, I think.” Most students don't get up on the weekends until after the allotted time for breakfast has already begun, so the time I quoted gives less of a chance for her to question why other students didn't see us. I can only hope the logic Raffe used to give his answer was the same I employed to create mine.

“Are you certain that time is accurate?”

I'm certain it is not, but I cannot change my answer now. Instead I force a laugh and say, “It might have been just before or just after. I wasn't watching the time all that closely.”

“Mr. Jefferies said the two of you planned to meet this morning, but you implied it was a spontaneous trip.”

I feel color fill my cheeks and I clutch my bag as my mind races, trying to decide how best to explain the discrepancy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone hovering in the doorway of the common room. Turning, I lock eyes with him. His long dark hair frames his pale face and deep green eyes.

“Do you need something, Mr. O'Donovan?” Professor Holt asks. Her tone is clipped, indicating her displeasure at being interrupted.

Will doesn't seem to be bothered by Professor Holt's annoyance. Flashing a crooked smile, he shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the doorjamb. “No. I was just checking to make sure Cia was okay. I ran into Tomas Endress earlier, and he was worried that he hadn't seen her all day. Don't worry, Cia.” Will's smile grows wider. “I didn't tell him that you spent most of the day with another guy.”

He winks.

Frowning, I look down at my hands as though embarrassed by Will's words. In reality, I feel relief as Professor Holt dismisses Will with a reminder that all students are to remain inside the residence until after breakfast tomorrow.

When she turns her attention back to me, I quietly say, “Tomas and I aren't as close as we used to be, but I don't want to upset him if I don't have to. We're both from Five Lakes and . . .” I shrug and take a deep breath. “I thought it would be better if he heard that my visit to the city with Raffe was spur of the moment instead of something we planned.”

My nerves jump as Professor Holt stares at me, her eyes unblinking behind her glasses. “It is always difficult to decide whether emotional attachment is due to shared experiences or to something deeper. If you aren't careful, those kinds of attachments can cause distractions you don't need. That's only one of the many reasons I'm pleased Dr. Barnes continued the practice of eliminating Testing memories in successful candidates. The last thing we need is students who have formed personal attachments as a mechanism for dealing with stress.”

At Professor Holt's mention of The Testing, I find myself recalling the information I read earlier today and her placement on the list of people marked for death. While I don't like Professor Holt, the idea of deliberately ending her life makes my heart cringe. “Professor Holt, can I ask a question?”

She blinks behind her glasses. “Of course.”

I choose each word with caution as I say, “Do you think The Testing is the best way to select future leaders?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I heard people at the president's office discussing The Testing. Since I don't remember my experience, I thought I'd ask your opinion. Do you think putting candidates through The Testing is necessary?”

“We need strong leaders more than ever before. One wrong choice could cause everything we have rebuilt to collapse.” Dark eyes filled with conviction meet mine. “The Testing is not only necessary—in my opinion, the process is not nearly hard enough.”

The confidence in her stride as she walks out the door leaves no doubt. If Professor Holt has her way, even more Testing candidates will die.

T
HE RESIDENCE HALL
is quiet as I go to the dining area to get something to eat. I fill a plate and balance it as I walk up the two flights of stairs. Unlike most nights, no one is wandering the halls, which makes me wonder about Will's arrival during my interview with Professor Holt. Why was he out of his rooms? Was he looking for me? His appearance helped me come up with a plausible answer to her question. Was that on purpose or just a coincidence?

I have not come up with answers to these questions about Will as I turn the key in my lock and enter my rooms. Pushing aside all thoughts of Will and whatever agenda he might have, I unfasten my bag and look at the things I took from the room on the fifth floor. Why I selected these items is still a mystery to me. Perhaps instinct had me grabbing anything that would give me comfort. Fixing, creating, and modifying technology has always been what I have done best. Since being assigned to Government Studies, I have felt removed from that part of me, just as geography and our different fields of study have made me feel cut off from Tomas. Suddenly, I realize that the pulse radios in my possession mean neither is an obstacle.

After the Seven Stages of War, scientists utilized the higher concentration of electromagnetic radiation in the air to restore communication with these devices. Pulse radios were designed to record chunks of information and, using pulselike signals, send them to receiving devices that are set to a corresponding frequency. Because any device set to the same frequency as the sending radio can receive the recorded message, pulse radio signals are not a secure form of communication. But if we pick frequencies unused by the Commonwealth and alternate them often, Tomas and I will have a better form of communication than has been available to us thus far. For that, I am willing to take the risk.

The other items from the fifth-floor room I have less of a sense of purpose about. I turn a small recorder over in my hands. It resembles the one I remember finding in my Testing bracelet. Perhaps it will be useful, but at the moment I'm not sure how. Setting this recorder aside, I look at the tracking devices. While I am unsure how to use them to my advantage, there's always a chance they could be valuable.

I glance at the clock. It's after nine, but still the Transit Communicator is silent. Forcing myself to eat, I contemplate how best to modify the frequency of the pulse radio to something not typically used by Commonwealth officials. The knot of worry in my chest dissolves as I focus on a problem I can solve.

Using the screwdriver part of my pocketknife, I remove the back cover of the pulse radios and examine the transmitters and receivers. The receiving frequency is easiest to modify. Just a couple turns of a screw and it will shift downward. The transmitting frequency is more challenging, since these pulse radios do not contain oscillators but rather use surface acoustic wave filters. To alter the frequency, I will need to swap the SAW resonator and several other parts.

I look through the items in my desk drawer, hoping to find what I need. But while I come up with a few pieces I can use, others are missing. The lab rooms downstairs will have those. I hope.

After placing the cover back on the radio, I put everything back in my bag and head for the door. Downstairs, the corridors are empty. The officials in purple are gone. Everything is as still as a tomb. I turn to the right and head down the hallway in the opposite direction of the common room toward the four labs we are allowed to use for our studies.