Sara said she'd heard of a Starter escaping last year by hanging on to the underside of a delivery truck. Because of that, it was standard for guards to run quick checks of the trucks before they exited through the gates. But they never searched the vehicles of important visitors. We figured the Old Man, with his heli-transport, was so powerful that the institution wouldn't risk insulting him with any routine delays. The institution's cooperation with him suggested that money had changed hands.

It was still risky.

"You sure the Starter got away?" I asked. "And he didn't get hurt?"

"I didn't say that," Sara said. "I just heard he got out."

"You don't know for sure, because you never heard from him again."

"Listen, there's something else, this one fat gate guard. Everyone calls him Box. He can't bend to see under any trucks."

"So?"

"He's working today," she said.

That convinced me. Not only would the guards be less likely to delay the important Prime transport, but I also had the benefit of Box's lack of flexibility.

I was strong and light. I only had to hang on long enough to get past the gates. Then I could let go and the transport would drive off, never knowing I had been stuck like a leech on its belly. That was our plan. It would be a whole lot harder than when I had just waltzed out of there the day I first visited, but it was an opportunity. And I was going to take it, because once Prime's transport left, the guards would resume their usual truck checks.

We walked out into the daylight, me in my gardener disguise, Sara as my minor apprentice. She also wore a hat to hide her bruised face, and carried a trash bag and a bucket of hand tools. As we made our way along the paths that led to the administration building, I bent slightly and slowed my gait to appear more Ender-like, even though what I really wanted to do was run like crazy. Not that I could have in the oversized slippers.

We saw two Starters coming our way. Sara gave me a hand signal. We both bent our heads down so the hats covered our faces until they passed.

When we reached the main quad in front of the admin building, we saw the Old Man's black heli-transport on the far side of the grass. The pilot stood outside it, stretching his legs, but no one was inside. The transport vehicle that would take the chosen ones was closer to us, parked in the short road halfway between the administration building and the guarded gate to freedom.

"That's your ride," Sara whispered.

"It could be yours too." I looked at her.

She shook her head. "You have to go find your brother. I've got lots of time."

"You just want me to be the guinea pig."

That made her smile. "I'll miss you," she said.

I would miss her too. "We'll see each other again. Someplace happier." I didn't believe it but knew it would make her feel better.

"Of course we will. We're friends."

Her earnest little face beamed at me. She looked like she was about to hug me goodbye, not a safe thing to do, when movement came from the building.

A guard led the ten boys and sixteen girls to the transport.

"They're already boarding," Sara said. "We're too late."

We'd hoped to get there before the others did. "Take my elbow. Guide me through them."

We had to cross their line to get to the other side of the transport, to be out of the view of the gate guards. But if anyone spotted our bruised, broken faces, our cover would be blown.

We kept our heads down.

The kids in line were so excited about being chosen, getting to ride a transport, and getting to leave the institution forever, they didn't even look at us as we passed.

We made it to the right side of the transport, where we were hidden from the gate guards. Across the grass, the heli pilot had his back turned. I dropped to the ground and slid underneath the transport. Sara bent and took my hat.

"Good luck," she whispered.

I mouthed Thanks. I slid my body across the gravel to position myself directly in the center of the transport. I spotted a bar where I could tuck my feet. But before I could move, she knelt down.

"Callie," she whispered, fear on her face. "He's not there."

"Who?"

"Box, the guard."

My heart sank. We'd been counting on him.

"Come back." She held out her hand.

I waved her away. She frowned. I looked up at the undercarriage and she left.

I reached up to a bar above my chest and tested it. Hot and greasy. I pulled the gardening gloves out of my pocket and put them on. I grabbed the bar and, one at a time, tucked my arms in until I was able to hold my hands together to lock myself in. I felt the heat of the bar through my shirt. I was hanging facing the underside of the transport.

I looked over and saw Sara's feet about ten yards away. On my other side, the number of shuffling feet had diminished. The kids were almost all boarded.

"Wait!" I recognized Beatty's voice and her heavy footsteps on the gravel. "You're still missing one girl."

I held my breath. The driver insisted that he was on a schedule. The last kids boarded.

Then the engine started. The vibration made it harder to hold on. Heat radiated from the metal, and sweat trickled down the sides of my face. I had thought I was strong, but this was harder than I had imagined.

The transport started to roll. The noise of the engine, the gears shifting, the wheels turning-even at this slow speed, it felt like my head was in a meat grinder. My teeth were rattling; my bones were shaking. I was sure my stitches would burst open.

I worried I wouldn't make it out the front gate. What were we thinking? Whose idea was this crazy plan? And Box wouldn't be there. All I had to go on was the hope that they'd let the fancy Prime transport sail on through.

We came to the gate. I could see the base of the guard's booth from my upside-down vantage. Our transport slowed. I tried to will it with my mind to keep going. It crawled along. I held on as I heard the gates sliding open for us. My arms were aching, but I told myself I just had to hold on a little longer. For Tyler.

Then the transport braked to a stop. I gripped the bar even tighter and held my breath.

Footsteps approached. Then someone else ran in another direction. Murmurs turned into shouts.

"Stop that girl!" It was a woman's voice. Beatty.

Did she mean me? I tucked my body up as close as I could to the transport's undercarriage.

"Shoot her!" a man's voice called out.

A sharp electronic crackle sizzled through the air like a lightning bolt.

A ZipTaser.

But the cry of pain that always followed this sound never came. There was silence.

"You missed!" a man shouted.

They didn't mean me; I never even saw the arc of light.

Then everyone started shouting and I could hear running feet. The transport started rolling again. I gritted my teeth and held on. We were driving through the gates, past the gates, clearing the gates!

It was going too fast, to make up for lost time. The driver turned hard out of the property onto a side street. The turn was too much for my tired arms. My muscles gave out.

I fell. My back hit the pavement hard, even though the drop was only a few feet. I quickly pulled in my arms and legs, becoming as straight as a stick as the transport roared over me, the huge wheels rushing so close to my head that the whoosh blew my hair. Once the transport was gone, exposing me in the bright sunlight, I rolled to the curb, hid behind a tree, and looked back at the compound's barrier.

At the very top of the thick concrete wall, with the blue sky and fluffy clouds behind her, a girl clung to the barbed wire, her arms hanging over it.

Sara.

A guard rose from behind the wall, climbing what must have been the ladder that she had used, on the other side. He stepped out onto the top of the wall.

Sara looked down at me, saw that I had made it outside the compound. She brought her right hand up to her chest, placing her fist over her heart.

She hadn't been trying to escape. She'd done it to create a diversion. To protect me.

I mirrored her, putting my fist over my heart.

Hold on, Sara.

Her bruised face was pained and weary, but a rapturous smile came over her. It was contagious, and my lips turned up a little too. She was reassuring me.

She put her foot against the wire and pulled herself up. She was going to go over to the other side of the wire. No! Where could she go from there? She could run along the top, but they would catch her.

The guard froze a few yards away from her. He shouted at her to stop. She continued to climb.

He pulled out his ZipTaser and aimed it at her. He was too close.

I saw the blue light arc and pierce her body. She scrunched her face in agony and twisted her torso in pain. Her gut-wrenching scream overshadowed the ZipTaser's metallic cry. My stomach pushed back deep inside me, and I put my hands over my mouth to stop myself from crying out.

The guard didn't see me, half hidden behind the tree. He moved closer to Sara.

Her neck and side of her face were blackened by the ZipTaser. She opened her eyes and looked down at me. A surprised look came over her, as if someone had played a horrible trick on her. Her eyes glazed over, then shut.

She slumped forward, her head slack, her body held only by the barbed wire.

Sara, no! Don't go!

But her body appeared suddenly empty. Hollow.

The guard pressed his fingers to her neck, then looked at another guard standing at the top of the ladder and shook his head. The first guard moved slowly, wrapping his arms around her with care, lifting her away from the wire. He brought her body to the second guard, who carried her down.

I remained hidden behind the tree, watching her for as long as possible, until she slipped out of sight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Numbness radiated inside me, filling my limbs, my chest, my face. Sara was dead. Little Sara. Gone. I was glued in place there, never to move again. Then an ominous sound vibrated through my body-the droning blades of a heli-transport rising from the institution grounds. My hair blew back as the machine crested above, emerging high over the fence, giving me a view of the underside of the black bug.

My survival instincts kicked in and I turned and ran across the street. I raced past a boarded-up house to a back alley, where I pressed my body against a weathered garage door, my chest heaving. The Old Man's heli reappeared, hovering overhead.

Had he seen me? Should I move? Or stay put?

I knew his pilot couldn't land in this narrow area, but what if they had radioed the guards?

I decided to keep moving. I ran through alleys and side streets. Residents saw me, but at least I was disguised in the gardener's uniform, thanks to Sara. Poor Sara. I ran faster, away from the institution. As long as my feet were moving, I was still alive.

The drone returned, like some relentless insect. I kept moving, clinging to walls or trees, any cover I could find. I looked skyward. It wouldn't give up.

I saw wires in the sky a few blocks away. I ran in that direction, trying to keep hidden as much as I could. The black bug trailed me. When I reached the source of the wires, an electric substation, I dove under a pickup truck. The asphalt scraped my palms. I knew the heli couldn't fly over this area, with the dangerous wires poking into the sky.

It gave up, a wasp that couldn't find anyone to sting. I exhaled and then scrambled out from under the truck. I saw the heli-transport flying away into the distance.

I walked and walked and walked, until the slippers ripped apart. I peeled them off and walked some more, thinking about Sara with every step.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. What had happened while I was under the transport? My stomach tightened as I tried to figure it out. Sara must have seen the gate guard coming to check under the vehicle. That was why she'd made the brave move to distract everyone. She had dashed for the ladder, in full view of the guards and Beatty herself. She had done it for me. She had sacrificed herself for me, because she knew I had to find my brother.

Then they'd shot her.

When I arrived at Madison's house, I rang and rang the bell, but she wasn't home. I had come so far and she wasn't there. My pain spray had worn off and my stitched-up face throbbed. I slid down the door, collapsing into a heap on her porch, where I fell asleep. It was just starting to get dark by the time she returned and woke me.

"Callie. What are you doing here?" Madison bent over, her blond bob hanging in her face. "I didn't see your car." She helped me up and stared at my gardening disguise. "What're you wearing? Some new teen style?"

She unlocked the door and I stood in her bright foyer. Finally, she saw my battered face, stitches and all.

"Oh my God, what happened to you?"

"Madison. I have to tell you the truth. I'm not a renter. I'm a real teen. A donor. And I have a lot to tell you about Prime."

"You're ... a teen?"

"Yes."

"You're not old inside, like me?"

I shook my head. She stared at me blankly for a moment.