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I don’t breathe until I’m in the fiction room and the door zips shut behind me There’s no lock--hardly any of the rooms on the entire ship have locks--but if I can lie low here, the people in the entryway et me

The fiction room is smaller than the others on this floor; clearly, the ship’s makers decided that history and science were more important than novels I wish it looked s scattered across the floor, dark carpet, posters of famous authors on the walls, and tiny square dusty s filtering in the sunlight Instead, the fiction room looks like all the rest--cold and sterile and entirely too clean It’s like a hospital room with books instead of beds: white tiled floor, stark paneled walls, silvery-h the roo clean, there is an ever-present scent of dust and old paper rising froardless of subjectbeside Dr Seuss beside Shakespeare When I get to the end of one row and look down the next, I see unreadable titles, souess at--French, Gerin to decipher--Chinese? Korean? Japanese?

I could get lost here, but I need to see if Orion really did leave a clue for me to follow in the phrase printed onthe fairy tales and poetry (Gritheir bu the titles--The Pilgriet to the one I’ for

Inferno, Voluhieri, shelved beside a slender volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets Ironic--a book of love poems beside a book about hell I pull out the poetry collection and toss it on the metal table near the door so it can be reshelved with the Ss; then I hook er on the spine of Dante’s Inferno

Just the title lish class I can feel the hard seat ofwith Ryan and Mike as orked on our final project

Funny how a book about hell reminds me of ho slips out, wafting to the floor I bend over to pick it up--a paper-thin sheet of rectangular black plastic, about the length and width of my open hand The feel of it reernail-size bit of raised hard plastic in one corner I slip it in my pocket; Elder will probably knohat it is I stand back up and reach for Dante again

The door bursts open I get a glimpse of a panicked wo She races past me to the far side of the room and throws herself behind the last bookshelf

I run over and drop to ?" I ask, reaching for her Now that I have a chance to really look at her, I realize who she is: Victria Harley and Elder’s friend The girl rites, stories or novels, I think The last time I spoke with her, I told her about the sky on Earth and how it never ended, and she spit inme in front of everyone

She snatches her hand away Sweat beads on her face and ar hard "Luthe--Luthor He’s"

Him

My stomach drops

He’s the one The one who held o, who used the Season as an excuse to try to rape me He was like Harley and Elder--aware of the world around hi when he slaainst ling

He told me his name was Luthe, but Victria called him Luthor Like Lex Luthor, Superman’s arch-nemesisbut the exploits of a bald super-villain seem comical compared to the evil that lies behind this Luthor’s skin I realize then--Luthe is his nickna him that fills me with revulsion I don’t like to think of him in the saain Victria whi her face I ju the room

His eyes lock on me

And he smiles Slowly

Seductively

7

ELDER

THE DOOR IS LOCKED JUST THE WAY I LEFT IT

After--after everything--after

Orion was frozen and

Amy found out the truth and

Eldest died and

I watched him die

I watched him die

After all of that, I crawled back up to the Keeper Level The empty, hollow Keeper Level And I broke into Eldest’s room, and I found his stash of alcohol, and I stayed drunk for two days straight Then I threw up for two more days, and then I relocked his door, one of the few doors that even has a lock

And I put a table in front of it

Now I shove the table out of the way so forcefully that it tips over on one side and crashes to the ground