Graduation Day
Page 28
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He closes the book in front of him, grins at the stunned expressions of everyone in the room, and heads out the door. Despite everything that has happened over the past couple of days, I can’t help but feel a spurt of excitement at the idea of delving deeper into our past and discovering what is happening outside our country. Are there others fighting to restore the earth? Could the course of action I have decided upon affect more than just the Commonwealth?
I want to believe that Chancellor Freidrich had Prime Minister Chae assassinated not to retain power, as some believe, but because the action would keep the Alliance stable. Instead it plunged nations into a war that led to the downfall of the world. Dr. Barnes is not Prime Minister Chae. He has not been an advocate for peace. Yet his work selecting leaders has helped revitalize this country. While I think The Testing is a terrible betrayal of everything I have been taught to believe in, others might not agree. I am betting that some Testing candidates, if their memories were restored, might even see Dr. Barnes as a savior. Will Stacia be one of them?
I’m still thinking about this and the events that have made me resolve to employ some of the same principles used in The Testing as Enzo and I walk together to our next class—Advanced Calculus. I have not yet decided what test I can give him, and I wonder if the fact that he knows I killed Damone and hasn’t reported me to Professor Holt is test enough.
But it isn’t, because I don’t know where his family’s loyalty lies.
As we walk up the steps of Science Building 4, Enzo stops me and asks, “Is everything okay?”
I blink.
“I just know you’re going through a lot with . . . everything that’s happened.”
Is he referring to my part in Damone’s death or to something else?
He jams his hands into his pockets and keeps his voice low. “I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m a good listener. My father always says the reason I seem smarter than the rest of my brothers is because I watch and listen to everyone else, instead of jumping in and getting my hands dirty.”
“Jumping in before you know what you’re getting into is a good way to get hurt,” I say, wondering why he is pushing to bring himself into my confidence. What does he think I am doing, and what would he do with the information if I gave it to him? The intensity with which he waits for me to say something more makes me certain there is another agenda aside from friendship at play. Trying to sound casual, I add, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to talk.”
Enzo shrugs. “Well, I just thought since I saw . . . well, you know . . . that I sort of understood and that I can be trusted.”
The more he tells me I can rely on him, the less I want to.
“Thanks,” I say. “It’s nice to know you stand by your friends.” When Enzo shifts his weight and looks uncomfortable with my gratitude, I say, “Come on. We don’t want to be late for class.”
It’s a good thing we aren’t. Our professor assigns eight pages of homework, most of which deals with equations he covered in the first few minutes. I am so busy writing notes I barely have time to glance down at the tracking monitor in my bag to verify that Ian’s device is still on campus. Where Ian said he was going to be. When the professor is done answering questions about the assignment, he announces that Professor Jaed is not on campus today. My next class, United Commonwealth History and Law, is canceled along with the others Professor Jaed teaches, which gives me a two-hour window until my next lecture. Time enough to talk again to Stacia and, I hope, construct an appropriate test for Raffe.
Stacia is waiting where I last saw her. Before I can take a seat, she stands and says, “You don’t have to convince me that what you said the president asked you to do is the truth. At first I thought it must be an elaborate joke, but I know you wouldn’t joke about something like that. So, tell me what I can do to help.”
“Just like that?” I ask. Walking here, I’d come up with all the things I could say that would convince her to be a part of this team.
“Dr. Barnes runs this University. If we were still in The Testing, I’d probably side with him—since he’d control whether or not I got here. But the president’s in charge of the country. If we succeed, I’ll be a hero. Heroes get more options for their future. They also have more power. I want both. So where do we go from here?”
Good question. “I have something I need to do in the Early Studies building. We can talk about it there.”
From what I have heard, the building’s classrooms and labs are only used in the beginning of the school year. Once students are divided into their designated areas of study, the facilities are rarely utilized until the following year. If that holds true today, Stacia and I should be able to work there on a test for Raffe while talking through the details she needs to know.
“I’m assuming Tomas is part of our little band?” Stacia asks as we head up the steps of the building. As with all of the University educational buildings, the front door is unlocked during daylight hours. The labs on the first floor are open and empty. The rest of the building is silent.
I tell her yes as I lead us into the chemistry lab—a large room with ten black tables, behind each of which stand two silver stools. Light streams in from three large windows that face the back lawn of the building. In the front of the room is a large, floor-to-ceiling gray cabinet filled with chemicals, microscopes, burners, and other tools.
I want to believe that Chancellor Freidrich had Prime Minister Chae assassinated not to retain power, as some believe, but because the action would keep the Alliance stable. Instead it plunged nations into a war that led to the downfall of the world. Dr. Barnes is not Prime Minister Chae. He has not been an advocate for peace. Yet his work selecting leaders has helped revitalize this country. While I think The Testing is a terrible betrayal of everything I have been taught to believe in, others might not agree. I am betting that some Testing candidates, if their memories were restored, might even see Dr. Barnes as a savior. Will Stacia be one of them?
I’m still thinking about this and the events that have made me resolve to employ some of the same principles used in The Testing as Enzo and I walk together to our next class—Advanced Calculus. I have not yet decided what test I can give him, and I wonder if the fact that he knows I killed Damone and hasn’t reported me to Professor Holt is test enough.
But it isn’t, because I don’t know where his family’s loyalty lies.
As we walk up the steps of Science Building 4, Enzo stops me and asks, “Is everything okay?”
I blink.
“I just know you’re going through a lot with . . . everything that’s happened.”
Is he referring to my part in Damone’s death or to something else?
He jams his hands into his pockets and keeps his voice low. “I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m a good listener. My father always says the reason I seem smarter than the rest of my brothers is because I watch and listen to everyone else, instead of jumping in and getting my hands dirty.”
“Jumping in before you know what you’re getting into is a good way to get hurt,” I say, wondering why he is pushing to bring himself into my confidence. What does he think I am doing, and what would he do with the information if I gave it to him? The intensity with which he waits for me to say something more makes me certain there is another agenda aside from friendship at play. Trying to sound casual, I add, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to talk.”
Enzo shrugs. “Well, I just thought since I saw . . . well, you know . . . that I sort of understood and that I can be trusted.”
The more he tells me I can rely on him, the less I want to.
“Thanks,” I say. “It’s nice to know you stand by your friends.” When Enzo shifts his weight and looks uncomfortable with my gratitude, I say, “Come on. We don’t want to be late for class.”
It’s a good thing we aren’t. Our professor assigns eight pages of homework, most of which deals with equations he covered in the first few minutes. I am so busy writing notes I barely have time to glance down at the tracking monitor in my bag to verify that Ian’s device is still on campus. Where Ian said he was going to be. When the professor is done answering questions about the assignment, he announces that Professor Jaed is not on campus today. My next class, United Commonwealth History and Law, is canceled along with the others Professor Jaed teaches, which gives me a two-hour window until my next lecture. Time enough to talk again to Stacia and, I hope, construct an appropriate test for Raffe.
Stacia is waiting where I last saw her. Before I can take a seat, she stands and says, “You don’t have to convince me that what you said the president asked you to do is the truth. At first I thought it must be an elaborate joke, but I know you wouldn’t joke about something like that. So, tell me what I can do to help.”
“Just like that?” I ask. Walking here, I’d come up with all the things I could say that would convince her to be a part of this team.
“Dr. Barnes runs this University. If we were still in The Testing, I’d probably side with him—since he’d control whether or not I got here. But the president’s in charge of the country. If we succeed, I’ll be a hero. Heroes get more options for their future. They also have more power. I want both. So where do we go from here?”
Good question. “I have something I need to do in the Early Studies building. We can talk about it there.”
From what I have heard, the building’s classrooms and labs are only used in the beginning of the school year. Once students are divided into their designated areas of study, the facilities are rarely utilized until the following year. If that holds true today, Stacia and I should be able to work there on a test for Raffe while talking through the details she needs to know.
“I’m assuming Tomas is part of our little band?” Stacia asks as we head up the steps of the building. As with all of the University educational buildings, the front door is unlocked during daylight hours. The labs on the first floor are open and empty. The rest of the building is silent.
I tell her yes as I lead us into the chemistry lab—a large room with ten black tables, behind each of which stand two silver stools. Light streams in from three large windows that face the back lawn of the building. In the front of the room is a large, floor-to-ceiling gray cabinet filled with chemicals, microscopes, burners, and other tools.
