The Sky is Everywhere

Chapter Eighteen

Ripley is giving her daily speech, about how worthless Seconds are, and how we must be grateful for the CC for taking us in, and I keep my eyes fixed on the tabletop so no one can see the rage burning there.

The CC is not a charity.

They are not doing this out of the goodness of their hearts.

I've never believed they were – they're a government facility, after all – but after yesterday, I've never believed in them less.

There are four Handlers per floor, so twenty for the whole CC, and half of them are men. Do they know about Fletcher and Cole? Are more of them carrying on similar things with girls? Come to think of it, how do I know the female Handlers aren't doing the same thing? What if they all know about it, and they're all covering up for each other –

I cut off that train of thought before it spirals out of control.

Maybe this doesn't have anything to do with the Trials, but I'm still going to relay it all to Roan. I have no physical evidence, but maybe one day we can get some, now that we know this is happening. It's not the smoking gun Roan is hoping for, but surely it needs to be investigated anyway.

I watch Fletcher as he sits with the other Handlers, and then glance at Cole, sitting at the far end of our table. No one would ever guess.

After breakfast ends, I'm surprised when Ripley approaches me.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, looking me over.

"Much better. Nurse Barrett let me sleep for a few hours in the infirmary, and I feel completely back to normal now," I say, smiling guilelessly at her.

Ripley continues to scrutinise me, and unease prickles down my spine.

I think of the stolen photo, hidden under my pillow. Has someone realised it's missing yet? Do they suspect me?

Maybe I should have kept it with me, but if anyone thinks I have it, then it won't make a difference if it's in my pocket or in my bed – they'll find it.

"Good," Ripley says at last.

She continues on her way, but I still feel like I can't quite breathe, like there's a knot of panic stuck between my ribs.

I had considered trying to sneak it back into Records, but there's no way I can risk it. If the Handlers aren't already suspicious of me, they will be if I insist on going back to the infirmary. And even if I can go back, I certainly can't get away with drugging Nurse Barrett again, so Records is still out of bounds.

No, yesterday was my one shot.

Taking the photo was a mistake, but I can't fix it by putting it back where it came from. I have to get rid of it.

The easiest thing would be to shred it and flush the pieces down the toilet, but as soon as I think it, I know I can't do it. That might be the only copy of that picture in existence, and even though I really am coming to accept, and even appreciate, what I look like now, I still can't bear to destroy this piece of my past.

But if I can't destroy it, and I can't risk hiding it any longer, then there's only one other option.

Roan.

He's waiting for me down by the fence, and when he smiles, my heart takes flight and surges to the sun.

"I can't stay for long today," I say, as he climbs through the broken fence.