Graduation Day
Page 24
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
I check the time. Dinner will be served soon. With Professor Holt and rebel students scrutinizing all that is happening around them, I dare not be late. We will meet after classes tomorrow. By then I hope Tomas will have learned something about Dreu Owens and I will not only have secured Stacia’s agreement but will have come up with ways to test Raffe, Ian, and Enzo.
“If you need to contact me before then, use this.” I pull out the pulse radio that uses the frequency I chose for just the two of us.
Tomas takes the radio from me and smiles. “I like knowing I can get in touch with you whenever I want. You’re probably going to hear from me so often that you’ll be sorry you gave it to me.”
“I doubt it,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “I know being a part of this isn’t something you want.”
“No. And it isn’t what you want, either.” He reaches out and runs his fingers across my cheek. “We’re going to get through this, Cia. I promise you. One way or another.”
One way or another.
We agree to test the radios later. After one last kiss, I turn and walk out the door to head back to my residence. Tomas will wait ten minutes and then go to his. We will meet again tomorrow. By then our own version of The Testing will have begun.
Chapter 7
I LEAVE THE dining hall as soon as I finish eating. Between Griffin’s glares, Raffe’s forced smiles, and Ian’s concerned glances, I had little interest in the meal. Most of the other students didn’t have the same problem, especially when it was announced that the ban on leaving campus would be extended one more day. Not having to attend internships made some of the students cheer. I couldn’t help but notice that Ian wasn’t among them. No one seemed concerned about the search of their rooms that had occurred just hours before. But I was.
When I return to my rooms, I brace myself as I slide the key in the door. During dinner, I heard a few annoyed whispers about items that were taken from students’ rooms. An old straight razor Sam’s grandfather taught him how to shave with. A journal one girl had kept since she first started at the University. An old map of Tosu City from the days when it was called Wichita. Nothing that seemed important. Not a single object that could help Professor Holt discover Damone’s whereabouts. But I did notice people casting glances at those who confessed to discovering items missing from their rooms.
Despite the search that took place, my rooms look almost exactly as I left them. I search to see if anything is missing. The vase of dried flowers and my clothes are here. The books for my classwork are accounted for. The homework I need to turn in tomorrow has not been disturbed. One by one I pull out the desk drawers and check their contents. Pencils and page clips. Straightedges and old assignments I have not yet recycled. Bits of wire, pieces of metal, small copper plates, some screws and other hardware—the things I used to make the transmitters I designed to interfere with the signal of the tracking device in my bracelet. Not that these things are unique to that purpose, but there is a chance someone who knows about the tracking device could look at them and divine my reason for having them. If so, there is nothing I can do about it now.
Almost everything seems as I remember seeing it when I left this morning. The only changes I have spotted are a desk chair out of place and the wardrobe pushed several inches away from the wall. I slide the chair back to its place under the desk and walk to the wardrobe. The large wooden case is heavy and hard to shift on the carpeted floor. I’m amazed the officials went to the trouble of moving it, since I can’t imagine what they could hope to find in the space between it and the wall. I slide one hand behind the wardrobe to see if there is any way to get a better grip on the wood and feel something cool and metallic. I pull my hand back and peer behind the wardrobe to see what it is that I touched. The object is small, round, and silver. The same listening device I discovered in my Testing identification bracelet.
I think of the conversations I had before I went to meet with the president. Was this device placed here during the search by Professor Holt and her officials today, or has it been here longer? I searched this room when it was first assigned to me and have repeated the procedure at least twice a week to make sure no one has found a way to watch my actions when I think I am alone. But the last search I conducted was days ago. Before my conversation with Raffe. Before speaking to Zeen. If this device was put in place before I spoke to either of them, then someone knows that I am responsible for Damone’s disappearance and that I’m aware of the rebels and their purpose. They will also know that my brother is now among them and is working from the inside to put a stop to their mission.
It is only Michal’s insistence that Zeen use a different name that keeps me from grabbing the Transit Communicator in an attempt to warn him. While we share my father’s eyes and my mother’s bone structure, that is where our resemblance ends. Zeen is tall and blond. No one will see him and think of me. If anyone has listened to my conversation with Zeen, they will never know to look for a boy named Cris. Eventually, they’ll ask enough questions and put together a list of all the recruits Michal brought to the camp, but that will take time.
Now that I have found the listening device, I search the room again. Every inch of the wall. The bathroom tiles. I upend the small sofa, round table, and chairs in the sitting room. Examine the seams of each of the cushions on the furniture to make sure none have been opened and a camera or listening device inserted. The device behind the wardrobe is the only one. I walk back to look at it. When I discovered the recorder in my Testing bracelet, my only thought was to avoid letting those who listened hear my secrets. Then the information the listeners received was only a danger if I crossed the finish line and passed the fourth test. Now whoever is listening is not just an observer, but an active participant—just as we candidates were. While I do not like knowing the recording is capturing every sound I make, I recognize the opportunity to create misdirection. Of course, while I believe Professor Holt is behind this device, I am not certain that is the case. If it was here for longer, it might have been planted by the rebel students, Griffin, or fellow classmates who are just looking for a way to get ahead. Creating misdirection will be difficult unless I determine my audience. Until I do, I will leave the device in place.
“If you need to contact me before then, use this.” I pull out the pulse radio that uses the frequency I chose for just the two of us.
Tomas takes the radio from me and smiles. “I like knowing I can get in touch with you whenever I want. You’re probably going to hear from me so often that you’ll be sorry you gave it to me.”
“I doubt it,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “I know being a part of this isn’t something you want.”
“No. And it isn’t what you want, either.” He reaches out and runs his fingers across my cheek. “We’re going to get through this, Cia. I promise you. One way or another.”
One way or another.
We agree to test the radios later. After one last kiss, I turn and walk out the door to head back to my residence. Tomas will wait ten minutes and then go to his. We will meet again tomorrow. By then our own version of The Testing will have begun.
Chapter 7
I LEAVE THE dining hall as soon as I finish eating. Between Griffin’s glares, Raffe’s forced smiles, and Ian’s concerned glances, I had little interest in the meal. Most of the other students didn’t have the same problem, especially when it was announced that the ban on leaving campus would be extended one more day. Not having to attend internships made some of the students cheer. I couldn’t help but notice that Ian wasn’t among them. No one seemed concerned about the search of their rooms that had occurred just hours before. But I was.
When I return to my rooms, I brace myself as I slide the key in the door. During dinner, I heard a few annoyed whispers about items that were taken from students’ rooms. An old straight razor Sam’s grandfather taught him how to shave with. A journal one girl had kept since she first started at the University. An old map of Tosu City from the days when it was called Wichita. Nothing that seemed important. Not a single object that could help Professor Holt discover Damone’s whereabouts. But I did notice people casting glances at those who confessed to discovering items missing from their rooms.
Despite the search that took place, my rooms look almost exactly as I left them. I search to see if anything is missing. The vase of dried flowers and my clothes are here. The books for my classwork are accounted for. The homework I need to turn in tomorrow has not been disturbed. One by one I pull out the desk drawers and check their contents. Pencils and page clips. Straightedges and old assignments I have not yet recycled. Bits of wire, pieces of metal, small copper plates, some screws and other hardware—the things I used to make the transmitters I designed to interfere with the signal of the tracking device in my bracelet. Not that these things are unique to that purpose, but there is a chance someone who knows about the tracking device could look at them and divine my reason for having them. If so, there is nothing I can do about it now.
Almost everything seems as I remember seeing it when I left this morning. The only changes I have spotted are a desk chair out of place and the wardrobe pushed several inches away from the wall. I slide the chair back to its place under the desk and walk to the wardrobe. The large wooden case is heavy and hard to shift on the carpeted floor. I’m amazed the officials went to the trouble of moving it, since I can’t imagine what they could hope to find in the space between it and the wall. I slide one hand behind the wardrobe to see if there is any way to get a better grip on the wood and feel something cool and metallic. I pull my hand back and peer behind the wardrobe to see what it is that I touched. The object is small, round, and silver. The same listening device I discovered in my Testing identification bracelet.
I think of the conversations I had before I went to meet with the president. Was this device placed here during the search by Professor Holt and her officials today, or has it been here longer? I searched this room when it was first assigned to me and have repeated the procedure at least twice a week to make sure no one has found a way to watch my actions when I think I am alone. But the last search I conducted was days ago. Before my conversation with Raffe. Before speaking to Zeen. If this device was put in place before I spoke to either of them, then someone knows that I am responsible for Damone’s disappearance and that I’m aware of the rebels and their purpose. They will also know that my brother is now among them and is working from the inside to put a stop to their mission.
It is only Michal’s insistence that Zeen use a different name that keeps me from grabbing the Transit Communicator in an attempt to warn him. While we share my father’s eyes and my mother’s bone structure, that is where our resemblance ends. Zeen is tall and blond. No one will see him and think of me. If anyone has listened to my conversation with Zeen, they will never know to look for a boy named Cris. Eventually, they’ll ask enough questions and put together a list of all the recruits Michal brought to the camp, but that will take time.
Now that I have found the listening device, I search the room again. Every inch of the wall. The bathroom tiles. I upend the small sofa, round table, and chairs in the sitting room. Examine the seams of each of the cushions on the furniture to make sure none have been opened and a camera or listening device inserted. The device behind the wardrobe is the only one. I walk back to look at it. When I discovered the recorder in my Testing bracelet, my only thought was to avoid letting those who listened hear my secrets. Then the information the listeners received was only a danger if I crossed the finish line and passed the fourth test. Now whoever is listening is not just an observer, but an active participant—just as we candidates were. While I do not like knowing the recording is capturing every sound I make, I recognize the opportunity to create misdirection. Of course, while I believe Professor Holt is behind this device, I am not certain that is the case. If it was here for longer, it might have been planted by the rebel students, Griffin, or fellow classmates who are just looking for a way to get ahead. Creating misdirection will be difficult unless I determine my audience. Until I do, I will leave the device in place.
