Like any of that meant anything compared to what Becca’s mom had done. Something was wrong here, but it wasn’t Becca’s fault. “Maybe you can tell me something.” Her voice came out harsher than she had intended. “What exactly did Heather do besides having the wrong parents?”
Her mom sighed. “I thought we were done discussing this. Dissident parents often pass their ideology on to their children. I could show you a hundred different examples—and in most of those cases, the children look completely innocent.” She paused. “Is that what this is about? Heather?”
No, it’s about how you lied to me. How you’ve been lying to everyone by giving dissidents manufactured crimes to confess to on TV before their executions. “So if you work for Internal, that must mean I work for Internal too, right?”
“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it.”
“If she’s so obviously a dissident, why not arrest her? Why let her go and then send spies to talk to her friends?” Becca’s voice rose. “Have any of you people actually talked to her? She’s the furthest thing there is from a dissident. The idea of her parents being dissidents is tearing her apart.” Despite the problems they were having, Becca was more certain than ever that Heather wasn’t a dissident. Heather would never have reacted the way she had to Becca’s revelation otherwise.
Heather had rejected the information. Becca had tried to get her to believe it. Which of them had acted like a dissident?
Only a dissident would think any of that could be true.
She pushed the thought away. She could deal with it later. Much later.
“Wait.” Her mom frowned. “What do you mean, send spies to talk to her friends?”
“That guy I went out with? Turns out he was just trying to get information about Heather.” She tried to make it sound like it was no big deal. Her voice still came out angry.
Her mom’s lips tightened. “And why was he trying to get this information from you? Why not from Heather?”
“How should I know? I guess he thought I’d be less likely to suspect him.”
Her mom straightened her shoulders. She looked like she was preparing for battle. “This is completely inappropriate. They should have arrested that girl along with her parents. To let her go and then spy on my daughter, as though you’re the criminal here… and taking you on a date to do it, no less…” She brought her focus back to Becca. “This is going to stop right now.” She pulled out her phone. “What’s his name?”
“Jake.” Becca thought. “He never told me his last name.”
Her mom dialed a number. She walked into the kitchen as she spoke. Becca couldn’t make out the words, but there was no misinterpreting the tone of her voice.
And then, abruptly, her voice softened, shifted from furious to subdued.
She came back into the living room. The anger in her eyes was gone, replaced with confusion. “Since you didn’t know his name, I asked about all surveillance on Heather.” She hesitated.
“And?”
“There is no surveillance on Heather.”
Chapter Seven
Jake’s house was half the size of Heather’s aunt’s, with peeling brown paint and a half-unhinged screen door. A few dead plants lined the front walk. Becca had driven past it three times before she had finally spotted it. It was one of those places she had stopped seeing a long time ago after passing it on the ride to and from school every day.
She pulled into the driveway and winced as she hit a pothole. She slammed the car door and strode up the walk, choking on the smell of exhaust from the busy road.
Whatever game Jake was playing, Becca was going to get an explanation.
If he was home. There weren’t any other cars in the driveway. She couldn’t even see if there were any lights on inside the house; the curtains were pulled tight.
She had spent most of the day trying to figure out what to do about what she had found out yesterday. Then she had spent another twenty minutes convincing her mom to let her use the car, when her mom had wanted to spend her rare free evening doing some mother-daughter bonding. It had never occurred to her that Jake might not be home.
She reached out to ring the doorbell—but it had no button, just a couple of wires spilling out of the hole where the button should have been. She opened the screen door and knocked instead.
No answer.
Maybe nobody was home. Maybe she had made this trip for nothing.
Maybe it was a sign.
She could leave and spend the rest of the day at the playground avoiding her mom. She could just write Jake off as a liar and a creep, and walk in the other direction whenever she saw him at school.
No. She wasn’t giving up yet. Jake owed her an explanation.
She knocked again, louder.
Still no answer—but to her right, one of the curtains twitched.
She knocked a third time, loud enough that Jake would probably think she was Enforcement. Not that Enforcement usually bothered to knock at all.
Slowly, the door swung open.
Becca opened her mouth, ready to get some answers out of Jake—and snapped it shut again when she saw a man with a tangled gray beard wearing a pair of ratty pajamas. Definitely not Jake.
They blinked at each other for a few seconds.
This man had to be Jake’s dad. Becca had assumed Jake had been lying about his dad just like he had lied about his mom. Now, looking at the man in front of her, she wondered if that part had actually been true.
“Is Jake home?” Becca asked.
“I thought you were dead,” the man exclaimed at the same moment.
His eyes were round; his mouth hung slightly open. He fixed his eyes on her like he was afraid she would disappear if he looked away.
Before Becca could try to figure out what he meant, he opened the door wider and motioned her inside.
Becca hung back. “I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’m just looking for Jake. I know him from school.”
He shook his head so hard that Becca felt dizzy. “Don’t lie to me. Why are you lying to me? I’d know you anywhere.” He grabbed her wrist and, before she could think of resisting, pulled her inside.
She stumbled through the front door. Immediately she jerked her arm away and turned back around, but he had already slammed the door shut behind her. He stood between her and the exit, tears streaming down his face. “You were gone so long.” His voice broke. “You let me think you were dead. How could you? Didn’t you know how much we missed you?”
Becca tried to keep her voice level. “There’s been some mistake. I’m not who you think I am.” She searched the room for something she could use as a weapon if he turned violent. The room was practically bare. A tattered couch, a TV in the corner showing executions. Four neat but precariously tall stacks of unopened mail next to the door. On the wall, a picture hung the wrong way around, so that all Becca could see was the back of the frame.
That was it. Nothing Becca could use. Nothing to protect her from this lunatic.
He reached a trembling hand toward her hair, but stopped just short of touching her. “You can’t be alive. You can’t. I saw you die.”
“I’m sorry about whatever happened,” said Becca, making her speech low and soothing, trying not to let him see her fear. She didn’t know what might set him off. “But whoever you’re looking for… I’m not her.” Could she open the window and climb out? Probably not before he caught her. “Just step away from the door and let me leave. Please.”
The door burst open, catching Jake’s dad in the back. He yelped and stumbled out of the way.