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"I don’t think she’s got long left" My voice cracks as I speak

He suddenly stops

"What?" I say

He points to a poster on the wall There’s a photo of a teenage boy on it, wearing horn-rilasses Above his photo are the words WANTED: TRAITOR

"That’s Tom," he whispers "He went AWOL froo We think he left the city"

"It’s probably best if he has" I wonder what he did to get on the Sentry government’s Most Wanted list

We walk the rest of the way to school in silence, both knowing Tom’s probably already dead

We slon as we approach Black City’s only surviving secondary school Souards everywhere--it’s like a circus But that isn’t what’s caught roup of work wooden crosses

"What are those for?" Beetle asks quietly

I shrug, but it can’t be good

Near us, a red-haired reporter dressed in a corset-blouse and skintight patchwork leather pants argues with one of the Sentry guards, waving her press pass in his face I recognize her as Juno Jones from Black City News

"I’m allowed to be here Since I last checked, I still have the right to free speech!"

The guard shoves her, and I catch her before she falls Her eyes widen when she sees me, but she quickly composes herself

"Thanks," she says "Nice to know chivalry isn’t co on?" I ask

"The Euard snaps

Juno rushes off in a different direction before she can tellfor a uard she can charm

When Beetle’s distracted, I show uard, then we join the rest of the school in the town square, standing at attention in a sea of black and red uniforms To the east and west of us are the skeletal reed shadows, staying out of the direct sunlight, althoughall over it Flakes of ash peel off the buildings’ scorched walls and rain down on us like black snow

Just one soot-encrusted building remains to the north of the square, the old town hall that’s been converted into the Black City Secondary School It was only opened last year, after the war ended Shame it didn’t burn down too Three Gothic spires twist out of the school’s gray slate roof, the tallest of which contains a tarnished copper clock that chimes the hour with a low, melancholy sound

I risk a look behindthe south side of the plaza, trying to iine what the town square would look like if it weren’t there I can’t picture it The wall’s been here too long; I barely remember a time without it

In the center of the wall are the e in and out of the Legion ghetto Guarding the gates are dozens of Sentry guards, while on the wall itself stand rows of Legion guards No one gets in or out without their permission, not that many people try You need top-level clearance to move freely between the two sides of the wall, and only a handful of governuard have that sort of access If you want to get over the wall, you have to cliht

I think about the scarecrows hanging on the wall and shudder I could’ve been hanging up there with thehtMy chest craht?" Beetle asks

"Heartburn," I say, unable to think of another explanation

"I didn’t realize you got that What with your heart not working" He trails off when he sees my expression "Must be that cheap Synth-O-Blood the Sentry’s trying to pass off as food The fascists probably engineered it that way"

"I don’t think heartburn’s at the top of their Agenda of Evil"

"I wouldn’t put it past them Phase One of their diabolical plans for world domination When was the last tiht froirl, but I spat most of that up Otherwise, it’s been a while" You can only buy human blood from the black market traders in Chantilly Lane, but I don’t have that sort of ?"

Beetle chuckles "Only if you buy

"Ouch, ory Tho up at roup of students who have the authority to discipline the rest of us He’s short for his age, barely reaching ance He flicks his lank hair out of his watery, deep-set eyes

"Why aren’t you wearing your beret, nipper?" he says in a nasally voice

I take the crumpled scarlet beret out of my pocket and put it on It is really don’tthe air around me for traces of blood There’s blood everywhere, if you’re looking for it A shaving cut on a girl’s leg, a grazed knee, a split lip It’s overwhelory is his fraternal twin brother, Chris, who follows Gregory everywhere like a shadowa very tall, sickeningly attractive shadow When it coory is small, mean and aloof, while Chris is athletic and approachable and always has a sh as a kite most of the time He’s one of ory and Chris is the bright hazel color of their eyes

Chris languidly picks up iveshis hands into his pockets

Gregory eyes rily

"What’s your problem?" I ask

"You’re rab it, pulling him toward me

"Back off You’re not a Tracker yet" I snap the cane in half with a flick of le" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true"></ins>