Graduation Day (The Testing, #3)(14)

The living room floor is coated in a thick layer of dust. The lone sofa in the room is so worn that springs poke through its cushions. I search the bathroom and two bedrooms. When I see no obvious signs of habitation, I pull my pocketknife out of my bag, then open the bedroom closet. Kneeling, I use the knife to prod around the floorboards. Several are loose. I pry up three, stand up to pull the folder out of my bag, remove the list of names, and tuck the rest of the papers into the spot I dug out. I replace the floorboards and pile the clothes stained with Damone’s blood on top of them. Then I close the closet door and hurry out.

I save the coordinates of this location on the Transit Communicator, then climb onto my bicycle and ride. When I reach the end of the street, I look back at the house where the papers lie hidden, knowing that if I return to retrieve them it will be because I have chosen to take up President Collindar’s charge.

And not just me. Because this task is not one that I can complete on my own. My father told me to trust no one. I have broken that edict more than once—often to my detriment. And if the president is right and there is no other way to end The Testing and the destruction to the country that might come, I may have to break it again.





[page]Chapter 4


THE SKY IS dark as I cross under the arch that marks the entrance to the campus. Solar lights illuminate the roadways and the buildings that I pass. I see fewer students than usual. Many spend their Saturday evenings in their rooms, catching up on sleep or blowing off steam, but normally there are more than the handful of students I see going to and from the library or sitting on the benches outside the residences. The inactivity makes my heart race as I pedal across the bridge toward the vehicle shed. I store my bike and hurry around to the entrance of the residence.

“Cia.”

I jump at the sound of my name and squint into the shadows, looking for the source. For a moment I see nothing. Then a figure moves away from the trunk of the weeping willow tree into the faint moonlight.

Enzo. Of all the University students, Enzo is the one I think I most understand and the one I am more inclined to believe has my best interests at heart. He is not like the others, whose families have ties to the Commonwealth Government. He could not rely on his parents’ connections in order to get accepted to the University. Enzo worked for it. He, like me, wanted to come to the University to help better our country. That similarity and the lack of connection to those who currently lead the University are the reasons I cross the grass instead of going inside. If Enzo has been waiting outside the residence for me, the reason must be important.

As I walk toward him, Enzo looks around to make sure we are alone. When I reach his side he says, “Professor Holt is looking for you.”

I swallow hard. “Do you know why?” Does she want to know what I was doing in the city today? Does she suspect what the president has asked of me? Or is this about what happened last night?

“Professor Holt has been interviewing everyone in the residence to see if anyone has information as to Damone’s whereabouts.”

“Maybe he went to visit his family,” I say, hoping Enzo doesn’t hear the strain in my voice. Many Tosu City students use their free hours on the weekends to spend time at home. The action isn’t encouraged by University staff, but neither is it condemned. Their being able to visit those they love is just one more aspect that separates those of us from the colonies from the students born in Tosu City. Even Enzo has taken time away from his studies to make the trek to the south side of the city to see his family.

“I told her that I spotted Damone this morning from my window. He had a bag over his shoulder as he came out of the vehicle building with his bicycle. Professor Holt is checking to see if Damone went home.” Enzo looks toward the bridge as if searching for answers. After several long moments, he quietly says, “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

Five words. Enough to make my pulse pound.

My heart ticks off the seconds as I wait for what comes next. Ten. Twenty. Finally he says, “My bedroom window next to my desk faces the back of the residence. Normally I don’t bother to look outside. But I did. I saw Damone.” His head turns toward me. “And you.”

“I . . .” I what? I wasn’t there? I was, and Enzo and I wouldn’t be having this conversation if he had any doubt that it was me he saw in the moonlight. “What did you see?” My voice sounds harsh. Panicked. I’m both. If Enzo has lied about what he said to Professor Holt, I will have two choices: run or be Redirected. Maybe that is why he is telling me now. To give me a chance to flee.

“I saw Damone and you fighting. I was going to come help, but by then my help wasn’t necessary. Damone is dead, and I’m not sorry. He shouldn’t have attacked you. He shouldn’t have even been here in the first place. It’s people like him that made my father agree to help change things. He and my brothers—” Enzo looks back to the horizon. Taking a deep breath, he says, “Look, I’m not telling you this to make you afraid. I just want you to know that I could see you and Raffe. If I could, someone else might have. Professor Holt is talking to everyone inside the residence. You need to be prepared.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. “You could go to Professor Holt, tell her what you saw, and collect your reward.”

“I’m not Damone.” Enzo’s voice trembles. “He and Griffin want to be important. I want to make a difference. I promised my family I would. They’re counting on me. Selling you out to Professor Holt wouldn’t make them proud or help them. They are fighting against what she stands for. I am too.” Enzo takes several steps toward the residence and turns back to face me. “I don’t know why you were out of the residence last night or why you let Raffe help you. He’s one of them. I think you and I are on the same side. So be careful. Okay?”