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I wonder if soh in , if Xander noticed and rea is one of his cards Nohen I see the painting or touch one of the newrose petals, I remember the way he felt so fao

I was right about this being the last time we could look at the picture When I pick it up, it falls to pieces We all sigh, at the saments on its breeze

“We could go view the painting on the port,” I tell the over in the

“No,” says Indie “It’s too late ”

It’s true; we’re supposed to stay in our cabin after dinner “To breakfast, then,” I say

Indie ht I don’t knohy it’s not the sa the picture thatat so told how to see That’s what the picture has given us

I don’t knohy I didn’t carry around pictures and poems all the time before I came here All that paper in the ports, all that luxury So many carefully selected pieces of beauty and still we didn’t look at thereen near the canyon was so new you could almost feel the ss opening for the first time?

In one swift motion, Indie brushes the pieces from my bed She didn’t even look to do it That’s how I know she cared about losing the picture, because she knew exactly where the fragments lay

I carry the with tears

It’s all right, I tell s left, hidden under the papers and petals A tablet container A silver box from the Match Banquet

Ky’s compass and the blue tablets from Xander

I don’t usually keep the co with me They’re too valuable I don’t know if the Officers search through irls do

So, on the first day in each new ca out the compass and the blue tablets, plant theal, they are both valuable gifts: the coht, can tell o And the Society has always told us that, ater, the blue tablet can keep us alive for a day or two Xander stole several dozen for ifts are the perfect combination for survival

If I could only get to the Outer Provinces to use them

On nights like tonight—the night before a transfer—I have to find my way back to where I planted the I was the last one inside, my hands stained dark with dirt from a different part of the field It’s why I hurried to wash my hands; what I hope Indie didn’t notice with her sharp eyes as she stood behindand that no one hears the musical chime, the sound of promise, as the silver box and the coainst the tablet container

In these camps, I try to conceal the fact that I’h the Society usually keeps knowledge of status confidential, I’ve overheard conversations between soive up their tablet containers Which h their own irls have lost their Citizenship They’re Aberrations, like Ky

There’s only one classification lower than Aberration: Anomaly But you almost never hear of them anymore They seem to have vanished And it seeone, the Aberrations took their place—at least in the collective mind of the Society

No one talked about the Rules of Reclassification back in Oria, and I used to worry that I could cause the Reclassification of ured out the rules froirls speak in unguarded moments

The rules are this: If a parent becomes Reclassified, the whole family does, too

But if a child becomes Reclassified, the faht of the Infraction

Ky was Reclassified because of his father And then he was brought to Oria when the first Markham boy died I realize no truly rare Ky’s situation was—how he could only come back from the Outer Provinces because someone else was killed, and how his aunt and uncle, Patrick and Aida Markhaher up in the Society than any of us realized I wonder what has happened to theht makes me cold

But, I re to find Ky will not destroy my family I can cause my own Reclassification, but not theirs

I cling to this thought—that they will still be safe, and Xander, too, no o

“Messages,” says the Officer as she enters the rooives us a nod as she begins to read the na ”

Mira steps forward We all watch and count Mira gets three es, the saes before we see the up at the port

There is nothing for Indie

And only one e forfrom Xander He has never missed a week before

What happened? I tightenand I hear the crumple of paper inside

“Cassia,” the Officer says “Please come with me to the main hall We have a communication for you ”

The other girls stare at me in surprise

And then a chill cuts throughin on me from the port

I can see her face clearly in my mind, every icy line of it

I don’t want to go

“Cassia,” the Officer says Looking back at the girls, at the cabin that suddenly seems war the path to theall the way across the room

I keepup toward the port Compose your face, your hands, your eyes Look out at them so they cannot see into you

“Cassia,” someone else says, a voice I know

And then I look up, and I don’t believe what I see

He’s here