The question sprung up like a lone weed; ugly, and deeply rooted. I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to clear the rumblings in my brain, but I couldn't tear it out. There was a strange feeling rising in my chest that followed-like something heavy was trying to work its way up from my center. It might have been a scream.

"What about the others?" I didn't recognize my own voice.

"The others? You mean the other children?" Cate's eyes were focused only on the road in front of us. "They can wait. Their situation wasn't as pressing as yours was. When the time is right, I'm sure we'll go back for them, but in the meantime, don't worry. They'll live."

I recoiled almost instantly at her tone more than her words. The way she said that-they'll live-was so dismissive, I half expected to see a hand come up into the air to wave me off. Don't worry. Don't worry at the way they've been mistreated, don't worry about their punishments, don't worry about the guns constantly trained on their backs. God, I wanted to throw up.

I had left them behind, all of them. I had left Sam, even after I promised we'd get out together. After everything she had done to protect me, I had just left her there....

"Oh-no, Ruby. I'm sorry, I didn't even realize how that would sound," she said, turning back and forth between me and the road. "I just meant...I don't even know what I'm saying. I was there for weeks, and I still can't begin to imagine what it must have been like. I shouldn't act like I know what you went through."

"I just-I left them," I told her, and it didn't matter that my voice was breaking, or that my hands had come up to clutch my elbows to keep from grabbing her. "Why did you only take me? Why couldn't you save the others? Why?"

"I told you before," she said softly. "It had to be you. They would have killed you otherwise. The others aren't in danger."

"They're always in danger," I said, and wondered if she had stepped a single foot beyond the Infirmary. How could she not have seen? How could she not have heard it, felt it, breathed it in? The air at Thurmond was so coated in fear that you could taste it like vomit at the back of your throat.

It had taken me less than a day in that place to see that hatred and terror came in circles, and that they fed off each other. The PSFs hated us, so they had to make us fear them. And we feared them, which only made us hate them even more. There was an unspoken understanding that we were at Thurmond because of each other. Without the PSFs there would be no camp, but without the Psi freaks there would be no need for PSFs.

So whose fault was it? Everyone's? No one's? Ours?

"You should have just left me-you should have taken someone else, someone who was better-they'll be punished because of this, I know it. They'll hurt them, and it's my fault for going, for leaving them behind." I knew I wasn't making sense, but I couldn't seem to connect my thoughts to my tongue. That feeling, the heart-swallowing guilt, the sadness that took hold and never let itself be shaken free-how did you tell someone that? How did you put that into words?

Cate's lips parted, but no sound came out for several moments. She took a firm hold of the wheel and guided the car over to the side of the road. Her foot came off the gas and she allowed the car to roll to a hesitant stop. When the wheels finally ceased spinning, I reached for the door handle, a spike of total and complete grief cutting through me.

"What are you doing?" Cate asked.

She had pulled over because she wanted me to get out, hadn't she? I would have done the same thing if our situations had been flipped. I understood.

I leaned back away from her arm as she reached over, but instead of pushing the door open, she slammed it shut and let her fingers linger over my shoulder. I cringed, pressing back against the seat as hard as I could, trying to avoid her touch. This was the worst I'd felt in years-my head was humming, a sure sign I was dangerously close to losing control of it. If she had any thoughts about hugging me, or stroking my arm, or anything my mom would have done, my reaction was more than enough to convince her not to try.

"Listen to me very carefully," she said, and it didn't seem to matter to her that at any moment a car or a PSF could come charging up the road. She waited until I was looking her in the eye. "The most important thing you ever did was learn how to survive. Do not let anyone make you feel like you shouldn't have-like you deserved to be in that camp. You are important, and you matter. You matter to me, you matter to the League, and you matter to the future-" Her voice caught. "I will never hurt you, or yell at you, or let you go hungry. I will protect you for the rest of my life. I will never fully understand what you've been through, but I will always listen when you need to get something out. Do you understand?"

Something warm bloomed in my chest, even as my breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to say something to that, to thank her, to ask her to repeat it again just to be sure I hadn't misunderstood or misheard her.

"I can't pretend like it never happened," I told her. I still felt the vibrations of the fence under my skin.

"You shouldn't-you should never forget. But part of surviving is being able to move on. There's this word," she continued, turning to study her fingers gripping the wheel. "Nothing like it exists in the English language. It's Portuguese. Saudade. Do you know that one?"

I shook my head. I didn't know half of the words in my own language.

"It's more...there's no perfect definition. It's more of an expression of feeling-of terrible sadness. It's the feeling you get when you realize something you once lost is lost forever, and you can never get it back again." Cate took a deep breath. "I thought of that word often at Thurmond. Because the lives you had before-that we all had before-we can never get them back. But there's a beginning in an end, you know? It's true that you can't reclaim what you had, but you can lock it up behind you. Start fresh."

I did understand what she was saying, and I understood that her words were coming from a true, caring place, but after having my life broken down into rotations for so long, the thought of dividing it up even further was unimaginable.

"Here," she said, reaching inside the collar of her shirt. She pulled a long silver chain up over her head, and the last thing to reveal itself was the black circular pendant, a little bigger than the size of my thumb, hanging from it.

I held out my hand and she dropped the necklace into it. The chain was still warm from where it had been kept against her skin, but I was surprised to find that the pendant wasn't anything more than plastic.

"We call that a panic button," she said. "If you squeeze it for twenty seconds, it activates, and any agents nearby will respond. I don't imagine you'll ever need to use it, but I'd like you to keep it. If you ever feel scared, or if we get separated, I want you to press it."

"It'll track me?" Something about that idea made me vaguely uncomfortable, but I slipped the chain on anyway.

"Not unless you activate it," Cate promised. "We designed them that way so that the PSFs wouldn't be able to accidentally pick up on a signal being transmitted from them. I promise, you're in control here, Ruby."

I plucked the pendant up and held it between my thumb and index finger. When I realized how dirty my fingers were, and how much dirt was still packed under my nails, I dropped it. Me and nice things didn't go well together.

"Can I ask you another question?" I waited until she had finally nudged the car back onto the road, and even then it had taken me a few tries to get the words out. "If the Children's League was formed to end the camps, why did you even bother getting me and Martin? Why didn't you just blow up the Control Tower while you were there?"

Cate ran a hand over her lips. "I'm not interested in those kinds of operations," she said. "I'd much rather be focused on the real issue, which is helping you kids. You can destroy a factory, and they'll just build another. But once you destroy a life, that's it. You never get that person back."

"Do people have any idea?" I squeezed out. "Do the people know that they're not reforming us at all?"

"I'm not sure," Cate said. "Some will always live in denial about the camps, and they'll believe what they want to believe about them. I think most people know there's something off, but they're in too deep with their own problems to call into question how the government is handling things at the camps. I think they want to trust that you're all being treated well. Honestly, there are...there are so few of you left now."

I sat straight up again. "What?"

This time, Cate couldn't look at me. "I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you this, but things are much worse now than they were before. The last estimate the League put together said that two percent of the country's population of ten- to seventeen-year-olds were in reform camps."

"What about the rest?" I said, but I already knew the answer. "The ninety-eight percent?"

"Most of them fell victim to IAAN."

"They died," I corrected. "All the kids? Everywhere?"

"No, not everywhere. There have been a few cases of it reported in other countries, but here in America..." Cate took a deep breath. "I don't know how much to tell you now, because I don't want to overwhelm you, but it seems like the onset of IAAN or Psi powers is linked to puberty-"

"How many?" They really hadn't learned anything new in all the years I was trapped in Thurmond? "How many of us are left?"

"According to the government, there are approximately a quarter of a million children under the age of eighteen, but our estimate is closer to a tenth of that."

I was going to be sick. I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned forward, putting my head between my legs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cate's hand come down, as if she was going to rest it on my back, but I twisted away again. For a long time, the only sound between us was the tires turning against the old road.

I kept my face down and eyes shut long enough for Cate to worry. "Are you still feeling queasy? We had to give you a high enough dosage of penicillin to induce seizurelike symptoms. Trust me, if we could have done it any other way we would have, but we needed something serious enough for the PSFs to actually bring you back to the Infirmary."

Martin snored behind us until eventually even that faded into the sound of the tires rolling down the old road. My stomach twisted at the thought of asking exactly how many miles we were from Thurmond, how far away the past really was.

"I know," I said after a while. "Thank you-I mean it."

Cate reached over, and before I could think to stop her, her hand ran a smooth path from my shoulder down my arm. I felt something warm tickle at the back of my mind, and recognized its warning trill. The first white-hot flash from her mind came and went so fast, I saw the scene like a photo negative. A young girl with white-blond hair in a high chair, her mouth frozen in a toothless grin. The next image stayed, lingered long enough for me to recognize I was seeing fire. Fire-everywhere, climbing the walls of the room, burning with all the intensity of the sun. This...memory? It trembled, shuddered hard enough that I had to clench my teeth to keep from getting nauseated. Inside Cate's memory, a silver door with 456B stamped over it in black lettering slid into view. A hand flashed out, reaching for the handle-Cate's pale, slender fingers, outstretched-only to pull away at its molten hot touch. A hand lashed out against the wood, then a foot. The image wavered, curling at the edges as the door disappeared behind the dark smoke that spewed through its cracks and joints.

The same dark door shut, and I jolted back, pulling my arm out from under hers.

What the hell? I thought, my heart racing in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Still?" Cate said. "Oh, Ruby, I'm so sorry. When we switch cars, I'll be sure to ask for something to help ease your stomach."

She, like all the others, was oblivious.

"You know..." Cate said after a while. She kept her eyes on the dark road, to where it met the brightening sky. "It was brave of you to take the pills and come with me. I knew there was more to you than the quiet girl I met in the Infirmary."

I'm not brave. If I had been, I would have owned up to what I really was, no matter how terrible. I would have worked, eaten, and slept alongside the other Oranges, or at least stepped out of the shadow of the Yellows and Reds.

Those kids had been so proud of their powers. They made a point of harassing the camp controllers at every turn, hurting the PSFs, setting their cabins and the Washrooms on fire, trying to talk their way out of the gate or driving the adults insane by putting images of murdered families or cheating wives in their heads.

It was impossible to miss them, to not step aside and turn away when they passed. I had let myself sit like a coward in the dull, endless stream of gray and green, never drawing attention, never once letting myself believe that I could or should escape. I think that all they wanted was to find a way out, and to do it themselves. They had burned so bright, and fought so hard to get free.

But none of them had made it to sixteen.

There are a thousand ways to tell if someone is lying to you. You don't need to be able to glimpse into their mind to catch all of the little signs of insecurity and discomfort. More often than not, all you have to do is look at them. If they glance to the left while they're talking to you, if they add too many details to a story, if they answer a question with another question. My dad, a cop, taught me and twenty-four other kids about it in second grade, when he gave his presentation on Stranger Danger.

But Cate had no tells. She told me things about the world that didn't seem possible, not until we were able to pick up a radio station and a solemn voice bled through the speakers to confirm it all.

"Yes!" she cried, slapping her palm against the wheel. "Finally!"

"The president has reportedly refused an invitation from Britain's prime minister to discuss possible relief measures for the world economic crisis and how to pump life back into the sagging global stock markets. When asked to explain his decision, the president cited the United Kingdom's role in the UN's economic sanctions against the United States."

Cate fiddled with the tuning again. The newscaster's voice faded in and out. At the first burst of static, I jumped.

"...forty-five women were arrested in Austin, Texas, yesterday for attempting to evade the birth registry. The women will be detained in a corrections facility until their children are born, after which the infants will be removed for the safety of their mothers and the state of Texas. The attorney general had this to say..."

Another voice came through, this one deep and raspy. "In accordance with New Order 15, President Gray issued an arrest warrant for all persons involved with this dangerous activity...."

"Gray?" I said, glancing over to Cate. "He's still the president?"

He had only just been elected when the first cases of IAAN appeared, and I couldn't really remember anything about him, other than that he had dark eyes and dark hair. And even that I only knew because the camp controllers had strung up pictures of his son, Clancy, all over camp as proof to us that we, too, could be reformed. I had a sudden, sharp memory of the last time I had been in the Infirmary, and the way his picture had seemed to watch me.

She shook her head, visibly disgusted. "He granted himself a term extension until the Psi situation is, and I quote, resolved so as to make sure the United States is safe from telekinetic acts of terror and violence. He even suspended Congress."

"How did he manage that?" I asked.

"With his so-called wartime powers," Cate said. "Maybe a year or two after you were taken, some Psi kids nearly succeeded in blowing up the Capitol."

"Nearly? What does that mean?"

Cate glanced over again, studying my face. "It means that they only succeeded in blowing up the Senate portion of it. President Gray's control of the government was only supposed to last until new congressional elections could be held, but then the riots started when the PSF started pulling kids from schools without their parents' permission. And then, of course, the economy tanked and the country defaulted on its debt. You'd be surprised how little voice you have when you lose everything."

"And everyone just let him?" The thought turned my stomach.

"No, no one just let him. It's chaos out here right now, Ruby. Gray keeps trying to tighten his control, and every day more and more people are rioting or breaking whatever laws we have left just to get food on the table."

"My dad was killed in a riot."

Cate turned around to face the backseat so quickly the car actually swerved into the other lane. I had known Martin was awake for at least ten minutes; his breathing had become much lighter, and he had stopped doing his weird little lip licking and grunts. I just hadn't wanted to talk to him, or to interrupt Cate.

"The people in our neighborhood robbed his store for food, and he couldn't even defend himself."

"How are you feeling?" Sugar coated Cate's words, almost as sweet as the vanilla air freshener twirling around in front of us.

"Okay, I guess." He sat up, trying to pat down his floppy brown hair into something presentable. Martin was round all over; his cheeks drooped and his uniform shirt might have been a size too small, but he hadn't started growing like the other kids in his cabin. I had maybe an inch or two on him, and I was short, with an average build. He couldn't have been more than a year younger than I was.

"I'm glad," Cate said. "There's a water bottle back there for you if you need it. We'll be stopping in about an hour to switch cars again."

"Where are we going?"

"We're meeting with a friend in Marlinton, West Virginia. He'll have a change of clothes and identification papers for both of you. We're almost there now."

I thought for sure Martin had dropped right back off into sleep until he asked, "Where are we going after that?"

The radio flashed to life, snatching up bits and pieces of Led Zeppelin, before losing it again to static and silence.

I could feel Martin's eyes burning holes into the back of my neck. I tried not to turn around to stare right back, but it was the closest I had been to a boy my age since we had been sorted. After years of living on opposite sides of the main trail in Thurmond, it was unnerving to suddenly be presented with all his little details. The freckles I hadn't noticed on his face, for instance, or the way his eyebrows seemed to merge into one.

What was I supposed to say to him? I'm so glad I found you? We're the last of us? One was the truth, and one couldn't be further from it.

"We're going to regroup with the League at their southern headquarters. After we get there, you can decide if you want to stay," she said. "I know you've been through a lot, so you don't have to make any choices now. Just know that you'll be safe if you stay with me."

The feeling of freedom rose in me so fast that I had to chase it down to squash it along with my swelling heart. It was still too dangerous. There was a chance that the PSFs could catch up to us, that I'd be back in camp or dead before we even got to Virginia.

Martin watched me, his dark eyes narrowed. I watched as his pupils seemed to shrink, and I felt a tickle in the back of my mind. The same one I always felt when my abilities wanted to be let out and used.

What the hell? My fingers dug into the armrests, but I didn't turn back around to see if he was still at it. I glanced up into the rearview mirror only once, watching as he leaned back against the seat and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. A sore at the corner of his mouth looked angry and red, like he had been scratching at the scab.

"I want to go where I can do what I couldn't do at Thurmond," Martin said, finally.

I didn't want to know what he meant by that.

"I'm a lot more powerful than you think," he continued. "You won't need anyone else after you see what I can do."

Cate smiled. "That's what I'm counting on. I knew you'd understand."

"What about you, Ruby?" she asked, turning to me. "Are you willing to make a difference?"

If I said I no, would they let me go? If I asked to go to my parents' house in Salem, would they take me there-no questions asked? To Virginia Beach, if I wanted to see my grandmother? Out of the country, if that's what I really wanted?

They were both looking at me, wearing mirrored looks of urgency and excitement. I wish I could have felt it. I wish I could have shared in the security they were feeling about their choice, but I wasn't absolutely certain of what I wanted. I only knew what I didn't want.

"Take me anywhere," I said. "Anywhere but home."

Martin picked at the sore with grubby nails until blood appeared and he licked it off his lips and the tip of his fingers. Watching me, like he expected me to ask for a taste.

I turned back to Cate, a question dying on my lips. Because for a second, just one, all I could think about was the sight of fire and smoke rising from the sharp lines of her shoulders, and the door she couldn't open.

SEVEN.