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“Busted,” Bishop says under his breath, and a laugh spills out of me as I bury my face in his shoulder.
We heed Erin’s not-so-veiled threat and make our way downstairs within the five-minute time limit. I don’t doubt she’d come back up and drag us down by our earlobes if we disobeyed. The foyer has cleared out, almost everyone in the backyard where food has been laid out on long tables.
“Hungry?” Bishop asks.
I am, starving actually, but there’s something I need to do first. Find the codes. I can still hear Callie’s voice in my head, accusing me of not having the will to carry out my mission, so sure I’m not strong enough. “Why don’t you get us some food,” I tell him. “I’m going to use the bathroom. I’ll be right out. ”
I wait until he’s gone before walking quickly toward the front of the house. I bypass the bathroom, though, and without thinking too much about it, press the code into the keypad outside President Lattimer’s office. I’m still not sure it’s the same one as on the front door, but with the general lack of security, I have a feeling it is.
As I suspected, the lock releases with a quiet click. I open the door and slip inside, closing the door softly behind me. My heart is beating in my throat, threatening to choke me, and I tell myself to calm down. Breathe.
The room is dark, and I know I’m taking a risk by turning on a light, but I have to be able to see what I’m doing. Luckily the heavy drapes are closed and the windows face the side of the house. I’ll just have to hope no one outside notices the light.
I try not to think about what I’m doing and what it means. I tell myself I’m helping my family. I’m helping the girls who will come after me. But Bishop’s face is all I can see. What are you doing, Ivy?
I crouch down behind President Lattimer’s desk and pull out one deep drawer. It’s filled with files, all neatly labeled, thank God. I skim through the tabs with my fingers, but nothing about the gun safe, weapons, or defense. I have to hurry. Bishop is going to come looking for me any second. And I have absolutely no good reason to be in this room, let alone hunched behind the desk like a thief. Maybe you want to get caught. Maybe that would make it all easier. But I push that thought away and move to the next drawer.
Bingo. The files in this drawer are what I’m looking for. My trembling fingers fly through the tabs until they land on Weapons. I pull the file out and open it on the floor. Page after page of inventory sheets, it looks like. Every type of gun and model the government owns. My father would love to have these, but it’s too risky to take the file and there’s no way I can memorize the information. I keep flipping through the pages, my eyes on the file but my ears on the door. Hurry up. Hurry up. If it’s not here, then I’m going to have to give up for now and try again later.
I’m about to forget it and shove the file back in the drawer when I reach the page with the code to the gun safe neatly typed out. It’s a memo to President Lattimer from Ray. 21-13-6-18-57. Same code for both the outer door and the safe. Sloppy, but better for my purposes. And these words at the bottom of the memo: “The final digit increases by an increment of three every month until the New Year, when the entire series will be replaced. ” Memo dated January 1 of this year. It’s early August now. So 78. 21-13-6-18-78. I close my eyes and the numbers scroll across my eyelids.
I’m sick to my stomach suddenly, hit with the almost irresistible urge to vomit. I rest my forehead against the desk, cover my mouth with one hand. Is this who I am? A girl who will do anything for her family? A girl who will sacrifice an innocent boy to prove she’s not soft? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
There’s a noise in the hall, the sound of footsteps. I shove the file back into the drawer, hoping it’s in approximately the same spot it was before, and slide the drawer shut. I turn off the lamp and cross to the door in darkness, lean my head against the cool wood. I don’t hear anything other than the distant sound of voices. There’s no way for me to know exactly what waits on the other side, but there’s no advantage to staying in here any longer.
I take a deep breath, open the door, and walk out. And run smack into a man’s chest.
“Ivy?”
I look up into my father’s face, relief coursing through me. He reaches behind me and shuts the door, then puts his hands on my upper arms.
“I got it, Dad,” I whisper. “The last digit goes up by three every month. ”
His eyes glow. He pulls me in for a hug and I hug him back, my chin on his shoulder. Bishop is at the end of the hall, and he smiles when he sees me. I close my eyes and my nose fills with the familiar scent of my father, wood smoke and paper. I remember the winter he taught me to read. And the afternoons after that we spent reading separately but in the same room. The times I felt closest to him always involved a book in my hand. Unbidden, Callie’s face flashes through my mind. For all her faults, she’s always protected me, even if her methods might not have been the ones I would choose. I open my eyes and watch through a veil of tears as Bishop walks toward me. And Bishop. With his deep laugh and his strong hands. The boy who dreams of the ocean and feeds people beyond the fence. What do I owe each of them? What do I owe myself?
21-13-6-18-78. I turn my head and press my lips close to my father’s ear. “21…13…6…18,” I whisper. Hesitate. Bishop hovers on the edge of my vision. “87,” I say, and pull away from my father.
It’s an honest mistake. The kind anyone could make. The type of mistake that buys me time to figure out what to do before they figure out I’m doing anything at all.
I am quiet on the walk home. I hold Bishop’s hand and make hmmm noises as he talks, but I am somewhere else. Still back in my father’s embrace, stuck at the moment when I was faced with two choices. And I chose the boy walking next to me instead of my own family.
“Oh, I talked to the head of the Matching Committee,” Bishop says. “He told me that Dylan and Meredith both put their names in again for next year. ”
“Great,” I mutter. “Now Dylan will be able to make some other girl’s life hell. ”
Bishop squeezes my hand. “I don’t think so. I hinted that they might want to make sure he doesn’t find a match. ”
I breathe a little sigh of relief. “I can’t believe Meredith wants to go through that again, either. But I guess it’s her choice. ”
“It is,” Bishop says. “Maybe she’ll have better luck this time. ”
“Can’t get much worse,” I say and Bishop smiles.
I trip over an uneven patch of sidewalk, and he puts out his free hand to balance me. “Whoa. ” He looks down at my feet. “Why don’t you take those off?”
His words bring me back to the day we met, the day we married, and he said the very same thing about my high heels. We’ve come such a long way since then. Further than I ever dreamed possible. Further than I ever wanted to journey. I hold onto him while I slip off my shoes. This time he takes them from me, hooking the straps over his fingers.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t start walking again.
