He clasps his hands together in front of his body. “Iris did an admirable job. She used powers of deduction to determine the precise year, and she figured out how to use the Annum watch in record time. I think she’ll make a fine addition to Annum Guard.”
I like Indigo. Not how I like Abe, of course, but I’ll get along with Indigo.
Behind me, someone clears a throat.
“Yellow?” It’s the man on the right. “You disagree?”
I hear her get up behind me. Her dress swishes against the floor as she walks over and stands next to Indigo.
“I absolutely disagree, sir. Iris committed a number of infractions.” She tosses her head back to get the hair off her shoulder and shoots me a dirty look as she does it. “First, she was seen in civilian clothing by several of the historical subjects. Second”—she pauses, and I’m sure it’s for dramatic effect—“she tried to use a cell phone. In 1874.”
Behind me, there’s a soft ripple of laughter.
“I don’t blame her for trying,” Indigo says. “She had no idea where she was, and for all she knew, it might have worked.”
Yellow holds up a hand to silence him. “Third, she made vocal contact with an historical subject.” I want to tell her that I’d like to see her not react when someone tries to rob her, but she’s talking so fast I can’t get a word in. “Finally, she nearly blew the mission by walking around in a torn dress with a modern-day school tie wrapped around her waist.”
I open my mouth to tell her that no one seemed to notice my tie and that I did the best I could with a dress that was clearly too small, but then she’s looking straight at me, one eyebrow raised and a sneer on her face.
She looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on the torn waistline of the dress, and says, “You’re going to need to lose some weight.”
“And you’re going to need to kiss my ass.” The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain can process them. Everyone behind me gasps, but I don’t blink. I jump to my feet, and Yellow crouches down like a trained combatant. So she wants to fight? Well, okay then.
Alpha jumps up and bangs his hand on the table so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t break it. “Everyone, sit down!”
I don’t take my eyes off Yellow as she slinks away and slides back into her seat between Orange and Green. It’s only then that I turn forward, to Alpha’s angry eyes waiting for me.
“I told you to sit!” he barks at me, and I do. “Do you not remember me telling you that you were here on a trial basis?”
“Well, maybe someone should have asked me if I wanted to be here before they plucked me out of school in my junior year, strapped me to a table, implanted a goddamned tracker in my arm, and forced me to join an organization I’ve never heard of.” I’m so angry I don’t care if I’m breaching protocol.
Alpha leans forward. His eyes are furious, and I expect him to leap across the table and slam me to the ground again. I brace myself. Instead he leans back, grabs a file, flips it open, and starts rifling through a bunch of papers. He pulls one out, walks over to me, and slaps it into my chest. “Remember this?”
He lets go, and I glance at it. The Peel Academy seal is emblazoned at the top, and I immediately know what it is. It’s the commitment letter I signed my freshman year.
“Read it,” Alpha says.
“I know what it says.”
“Read it,” he repeats. “Out loud.”
Anger courses through my veins and seeps out my pores. But I take a breath, fan the paper in front of me, and start reading in a calm voice.
“I, Amanda Jean Obermann, hereby give the United States government the authority to assign me to any given organization they deem necessary of my service, at any time such service is deemed necessary.” My signature is at the bottom.
I drop my arm. “I’ve never heard of Annum Guard.” There’s still an edge to my voice.
Alpha breathes a sigh. I can’t tell if it’s one of frustration or one of relief. “Well, there are certain things you’re going to have to take at face value, this included. So you have two options. Stay here, on a trial basis, or leave.”
I straighten. “Leaving is an option?” Abe’s face flashes in my mind. I could see him tomorrow.
Behind me, I hear someone say no in a hushed, angry whisper.
“Of course it is,” Alpha says. “But probably not in the way you’re thinking. You’re done with school. You’ve graduated and moved on. Iris is a pupil no longer. And Annum Guard happens to be among the most secret government organizations in existence. You’re one of a handful of people who know about it, so I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able just to turn you loose. If you choose to leave, you will be . . . detained.”
My mouth goes dry, and I feel little pricks of electricity in my shoulders. Alpha’s voice got low. Scary. Ominous, even.
“Detained how?”
Alpha’s mouth presses into a thin line, and he pauses, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word his response. “You’ll be taken to a secure facility where your actions and interactions will be monitored on a full-time basis in the name of national security.”
My vision clouds as I read between the lines.
“You don’t mean detained,” I say. “You mean contained.”
Alpha’s lips curl up into the smallest smile, but he doesn’t answer me.
“Where?” I demand.
“Most likely Carswell.”
I jump out of my seat with such force that the chair falls over. I know what Carswell is. It’s a women’s federal prison in Texas. And now I fully understand what detained means.
Solitary confinement.
We studied solitary at Peel. It’s a form of psychological torture. Humans are social creatures by nature, and you can’t change that. Cut off from contact, isolated prisoners slowly go mad. Years and years of untreated madness. And I already know what that’s like.
My only thought is escape. I have to get out of here. Now. But before I take even one step, hands are on me from behind. Lots of them. My supposed teammates. Someone picks the chair back up, and I’m lowered down into it. I kick and fight, but it’s no use. It’s like ten on one.
“You’re really going to have to learn to control your temper,” Alpha says in a flat, almost bored voice. “Now, do you choose to stay or to go?”
“Do I really have a choice?” I spit.
“Yes. You can choose to stay or go.”
“So no,” I say. “I don’t have a choice. Of course I choose to stay.”
Alpha nods his head. “On a trial basis,” he repeats. “You see, our numbers are set. Teams have always been made up of seven. The government is thinking of expanding us, but they’re not sure yet. You’re the trial. If you succeed, you’re in, and we’re open for business. If you fail, well . . . you’re out. And I’ve already explained what that entails.”
I try to jump out of the chair, but several pairs of strong hands hold me down.
“Why are you doing this to me?” My voice is bordering on wailing. “I did everything right. Everything. I’ve always played by the rules.” My voice cracks. “All I ever wanted was to—”
I cut myself off before I say too much. No one here needs to know about my dad, although chances are they already do. They seem to know everything.
“Was to what?” Alpha says. “Gain clearance levels? What makes you think you can’t do that here?”
And there it is. Alpha knows. I’ve never told anyone my true motives in choosing Peel—the realization I had as soon as I found out what the school really was—not even Abe, but somehow Alpha knows.
His words replay in my mind. I could have clearance. It’s the one thing I’ve wanted since I was seven years old and figured out that asking my mom about my dad was getting nowhere. I could finally—finally—discover what happened to him. Why he died. What his mission was. I wouldn’t have to speculate, to build an explanation in my mind around a sole pair of U.S. Navy dog tags I found hidden deep in a shoe box at the back of my mom’s closet. My mind wouldn’t go back and forth between thinking my dad was a fighter pilot who got shot down in a covert mission in Somalia or a Navy SEAL who was taken hostage and killed in North Korea. I could know the truth.