"It's horrible." I lowered the gun. "Why did they do this to me?"

"They probably did it to all the donors. As a fail-safe. This way, no one can kill a donor and steal the valuable technology."

"So I'm stuck with a piece of metal in my head that links me to them for the rest of my life?"

"I'm afraid so."

I would never be the same. Never be safe. The girl who had walked into the body bank was gone forever.

Redmond cleared his throat. "There is some good news."

"What?"

"You're the only one with an altered chip. That makes you a unique subject."

I let out a bitter laugh. "What's so great about that?"

He stared at me. "The body bank might want to keep you alive."

Redmond fashioned a magnetic plate that covered the area of my head closest to the chip. I didn't feel any pain, thanks to a local anesthetic. As I lay on a table in his sterile room in the back, I couldn't help but admire his precision. Redmond felt to me like a young soul in an old body. I trusted him. Truth was, I didn't want to leave his lab. There was a deep feeling of safety, being with someone who knew my inner workings the way he did.

He explained that his prior career had been as a brain surgeon. But when he retired, he went back to his first love, computers. He said working with hardware was like operating on a patient who never complained. And if anything went wrong, he could always start over.

I felt comforted in his hands. But I was dangerous to him. He was not a supporter working for the cause. He was there for the pay, for the allure of the unknown science, and maybe because Helena was an old friend.

But I was a stranger, and I knew he wanted me out of there as soon as possible.

"Now, I'll warn you, this isn't a permanent fix. It's just what I could do on short notice. This sealant I'm using will break down from the contact with the plate. Anything stronger would burn your scalp."

"How long will it last?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a week."

He continued to work, applying a gel to the plate's metal edges.

"What do you know about the Old Man?" I asked.

"The one thing everyone knows is that he's kept his identity a secret. No one's ever seen his face. Rumors abound.... He used to be a software genius, he was in charge of Dark Ops during the war and sustained some injury.... Who knows if any of it is true?"

I swallowed, thinking of Helena and Emma. "I want to find him."

"So do a lot of people. Which is why he's so reclusive."

"I know he goes to the body bank sometimes. I saw him there once."

Redmond stopped and leaned over so he'd be in my line of sight. "Don't go after him. You're young and beautiful. If you stay out of their way, you'll have your whole life ahead as your reward. He is a bad, bad man."

He helped me to a sitting position. He handed me a mirror and, like a hairdresser, let me admire his handiwork in a second mirror on the wall.

"You can't even see it," I said.

He took my hand and placed it on the back of my head. "Easy," he said.

Underneath my hair, I felt a hard metal plate that was molded to the shape of my skull.

"I had to shave some of your hair by the scalp, but your outer layer covers it. You can't see anything strange unless the wind blows too hard," he said.

"And this will prevent them from tracking me? For a week?"

"Yes. And I won't be able to follow you either. You're on your own now."

"It's okay." I put the mirror down and stood. "I've been that way for a long time."

His expression became even more serious. "Come with me."

I followed him back to his lab. He pressed his fingers to a pad on a file drawer built into his desk. It opened with a click. He pulled out a small metal box about the size of his palm. On the top, it was labeled Helena.

"Now, if anything should happen to me, come and get this box."

"How will I unlock it?"

"It's already coded for your fingerprint. Helena did it."

I looked at my fingertips. Was anything mine anymore? The box was plain. A hard drive?

"What's inside?" I asked him.

"The key that has the information about how I altered your chip." His eyes softened and his lips almost formed a smile. "I guess you could say it's your birth certificate."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Now that the body bank could no longer track me, they would know that somehow I had defeated the chip. Because we couldn't remove it, there was no way for Redmond to put out a false tracker to mislead them. Up to this point, Prime might have thought that I was at the mercy of Helena's plot. But not anymore.

I sat in my car by Redmond's warehouse and pulled out a new cell phone he had given me-he was concerned that Helena's could be tracked. I turned on her cell phone just long enough to see Lauren's number, then shut it off. When I called Lauren, I got a recording. I left a message for her to call me-well, not me, she didn't know me, but Helena-and gave her the new number.

I started to call Madison, but a call came through Helena's phone. I saw that it was Blake.

Blake.

My heart was chasing my breath. The last time I'd seen his face was on the airscreen, when he'd been wearing my whale clip. Had his grandfather tried to turn him against me, and Blake hadn't bought it? Or had the senator never said anything to Blake at all?

I took a deep breath. Then I used the other phone to call him back.

"Blake?"

"Callie."

Just hearing his voice made me feel like crying. "You're back."

"Finally." He took a second. I heard him take a deep breath.

"Listen, Blake, about that night ..."

"I know. I missed you."

"I really missed you," I said.

"That's good. 'Cause it would be really bad if it was just me."

He made me laugh a little.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starving."

He Zinged me the address of an old-fashioned, all-night restaurant called the Drive-In. When I arrived, I was glad to see several armed Ender guards on the property. They were no longer the enemy. I saw them as possible protection.

Fancy cars filled every space by the food service center. No expense had been spared making this place, advertised on the walls in neon as BLAST FROM THE PAST. Fit Enders on blades held trays above their heads, carrying burgers and shakes and banana splits to your car, while quaint rock 'n' roll played from speakers. Outdoor airscreens played movies from the 1950s without sound, adding to the true sensa-round retro experience.

I pulled into a parking space on the edge of the property, far from the food service. I walked over to the restroom. When I came out, I didn't see Blake's car, so I walked back to wait in mine. A few minutes later he drove up close to my car and smiled. Nothing could have looked better to me. His passenger door opened with a click and a whirr, and I got in.

As soon as I was in my seat, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Hi."

It felt right to be with him, in his car.

"You look so good," he said.

He pulled into a space by the restaurant between two other cars. A trim Ender with a silver ponytail bladed over and took our orders.

After she left, Blake took my hands in his.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't."

I breathed in his scent and for a moment took comfort in the familiar features of his face. But I knew if I let myself relax into him, tears would follow. I had to be strong to say what I needed to say.

He started to pull me toward him.

"There's stuff I have to tell you," I said.

"I know." He sat back in his seat. "Me too. I wanted to call you from Washington, but my grandfather took my cell phone away. I just got it back."

"Seems like you've been gone forever, so much has happened."

"I thought about you the whole time," he said. "The hardest was at night, right before I went to sleep. During the day, there were all these distractions. But at night, it was just you."

Something glinted on his leather jacket. The whale clip from my shoe. I touched it.

"I should wear mine," I said. "We'll be a pair."

"We're already a pair."

He looked at me with such intensity I thought his eyes were going to smoke. Then he leaned closer and put his hand around my neck, pulling me to him. I felt his breath on my face-it instantly gave me chills-right before he kissed me.

I closed my eyes and let the kiss vibrate through my whole body. His scent-sort of woodsy and grassy-both calmed and excited me. His hair was so soft, almost too soft for a guy. His hands touched my face, my neck, my hair, as if he were discovering me, as if I were the first girl he'd ever touched. It made me feel so special. His hand stroked my hair and then stopped ...

... right where that metal plate was placed on the back of my head.

He froze. "What is that?"

I pulled away, a gasp escaping my lips.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'd forgotten. You told me. That's the ... surgery?"

The waitress bladed over with our food, interrupting us. The conversation halted while she fixed the tray to the car's window edge. After she left, the food just sat there.

"What you felt," I said. "That's what I have to tell you."

He looked at me. Waiting.

I felt my stomach drop, as if I were in a fast elevator. Why was this so hard?

Because it was so complicated.

He took my hand. "It's okay. Really."

"I'm not who you think I am."

A nervous half smile came over his face. "So who are you?"

"Don't hate me."

"Never."

I wanted to stop time. He still liked me, still believed in me. And that might all end.

He touched my cheek. "It's okay, Callie. This has to do with that surgery you talked about before, right? There's nothing you could say that would make me hate you."

"Well, let's see how you feel when I tell you everything." I took a deep breath, exhaled, and then went for it. "I lied. My name isn't Callie Winterhill. It's Callie Woodland. I'm not rich, these clothes aren't mine, that car isn't mine, and the house isn't mine."

He stared for a second, and then shook his head. "I couldn't care less if you're rich or poor."