“You don’t want to get involved with them.” Jake brushed away a fly that had landed on her leg. “They’re useless. They had my sister set up that newspaper, but for what? What good did it ever do? And after what happened, they wanted me to help them like my sister had, but they wouldn’t do anything to help us.” The fly landed on his arm. He smacked it so hard his hand left a red mark where it had struck.
Part of her wanted to give up and leave it at that. But what would she do then? Keep going the way she had been? A week of this had made her boil over. How was she supposed to keep it up for the rest of her life?
“Anything is better than nothing,” said Becca. “At least they’re doing something.”
“Something that could get them arrested. Do you understand the danger you’d be putting yourself in?”
“I’m already in danger just for the things I’ve already said. Heather could easily have reported me for what I said to her. My mom might still report me.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Jake shifted so he was sitting in front of her instead of beside her. “With your mom in Internal, you’ve been untouchable your whole life. You think you’re still untouchable. You think actually fighting the government is the same as saying the wrong thing to somebody.”
“Saying the wrong thing to somebody could get me arrested just as easily. It happens all the time. If I’m in danger anyway, I might as well do something that matters.”
“You don’t have a clue how things actually work outside the little bubble you’ve been living in. I bet you think everyone believes all the propaganda Internal puts out, don’t you? Now you’ve finally figured out what Internal is really like, and you think you’re going to save the world. Good luck with that—but don’t expect me to help you get yourself killed.”
Was Jake right about her? Was she too naïve to understand what this would mean?
She didn’t care. She had to keep herself from ending up like her dad, forced to deny her dissident thoughts not only to protect herself but to stay sane.
“What do you think I should do, then? Just sit back and pretend none of it is happening? I have to do something!”
“This isn’t some kind of game! Have you forgotten what happened to my sister? To my mother?” This was the Jake who had threatened Laine, the one who had thrown Becca out of his house.
But this time, Becca didn’t shrink away.
“Of course not!” Her voice rose to match his. “Why do you think I want this? I can’t just ignore what’s happening and get on with my life as if nothing’s changed. If that’s all I’m going to do, why does it matter what I believe? I might as well do what Heather wants and join the Monitors.”
“What do you think you’ll really be able to do to make a difference?” Jake pried at a rusty nail sticking out of the floor.
Embarrassed to admit that she didn’t have any idea, Becca crossed her arms. “More than I’m doing now.”
“The answer is no. That’s not going to change.” He tugged harder; the nail popped free. He dropped it and started pulling loose splinters from the wood.
Becca could feel it again, the restless energy surging through her limbs, asking her why she wasn’t doing anything with this new knowledge she had. She forced herself not to get up. “It’s not your job to protect me.” She fidgeted. “Please,” she said, knowing how desperate she sounded. “Let me have this.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Jake’s voice hovered somewhere between challenge and defeat. “Hand over a resistance group to Raleigh Dalcourt’s daughter?”
She jerked back as if he had slapped her.
She had called him here, confided in him, let him comfort her… and this was what he thought of her? That she was, what, faking all of it? That if he gave her what she had asked for, she would turn around and give it to her mom?
“You think I’m spying for Internal.” The same thing she had thought about him at first. It was almost funny.
“No,” said Jake. “I don’t. I believe every word you’ve told me. But… I can’t take the chance.”
Becca wished she couldn’t understand. She wished she couldn’t see the distinction. It would make things easier. At least then she could channel some of her energy into raging at Jake.
But if she were in his position, she wouldn’t want to take the chance either.
No matter what she said, no matter how much he trusted her, she was still her mother’s daughter.
She wanted to scream.
She nodded. Her restrained energy made the motion jumpy and unnatural. “I understand.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but a tiny part of her was relieved.
The rest of her wanted to tear the playhouse apart.
She drummed her fingers against the floor. It didn’t help. Her fingers came away coated in dust and unidentifiable grime. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hands off on her jeans.
Jake looked at his watch. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to get home. I don’t like leaving my dad alone for this long.”
She let him go without protest. His presence wasn’t comforting anymore. Seeing him there, knowing he could give her a way out of this but wouldn’t, only fed her frustration.
In the doorway, Jake stopped. “I’m sorry.”
“I said I understand.”
He didn’t leave. “Be careful, okay? Maybe you shouldn’t go home. Just in case.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Please just get out of here.
With one last reluctant look, he left, and she was alone again.
Right back where she had started.
What now? She couldn’t hide in this playhouse forever. But if she went home, there were two possibilities—either she’d go back to the way things were before, to unsuccessfully trying to keep herself from exploding, or she’d end up in an underground cell in 117. And she had no way of knowing which it would be.
The walls she had cowered against a couple of hours ago now felt like they were closing in on her. She stood convulsively and all but ran the couple of steps out the door.
And found herself staring at a wide-eyed, white-faced Heather.
“How long have you been here?” Becca asked. But the look on Heather’s face told her everything she needed to know.
“Long enough.” Heather was looking at her like she was a stranger. A monster.
A dissident.
“After your phone call, I couldn’t sleep.” She spoke quietly, but the stillness of the night air amplified her words. “I kept worrying about you. I knew you said it was nothing, but you sounded like something was seriously wrong. And after everything you did for me, I figured I owed it to you to at least find out if you were okay. So I took my aunt’s car and drove down here.” She stopped.
“And you heard me talking to Jake,” Becca finished.
“I hid when he came out,” said Heather. “After that, I wanted to come in and talk to you, but… I didn’t know what to say.”
Becca scrambled for some explanation she could give Heather, something to make her conversation with Jake seem innocuous. She came up with nothing.
Moonlight glinted off Heather’s Monitor pin, giving the metallic eye a vicious gleam.
Maybe Becca didn’t need to worry about her mom reporting her after all. Maybe Heather would do it before her mom had a chance.
And what about Jake?
This was Becca’s fault. She had called Heather and then asked Jake to come here. She had asked Jake for the contact information. She was responsible for whatever Heather had overheard—and whatever happened to Jake because of it.
The question was on Becca’s lips, but she couldn’t ask it. Are you going to turn us in?
“Jake isn’t even working with the dissidents,” she said instead. “You heard him—he doesn’t want to help them.”