Page 83 of The Sixth Fraction

She shrugs, like she doesn’t believe me—but also like it doesn’t matter.

“I have to go higher than this,” she says, pointing up at the banner. It’s wrapped around a metal support maybe fifty feet above us. And there’s no more ladder to take us up there. If she wants to reach it, she’ll have to climb on the thinner, crisscrossing beams that make up the outer part of the wheel.

And I’ll have to go with her.

“Are you sure it’s worth it?” I ask her. “Whatever you’re doing this for?”

Her cautious smile fades a little.

“Yes,” she says.

“All right.” I stand.

“You’re not going to ask me why?”

“No.” I hold out my hand. “I’m going to trust you and see where it leads.”

She slides her fingers into mine and pulls herself to her feet. For a breath we stand facing each other, and I’m glad the moon is high and clear of clouds, because I can see her face. When I first met her, it didn’t exactly catch my attention. She was just a girl, and one who admires my mother, at that.

She looks different to me now than she did then. Eyes wide and bright and almost glowing in the moonlight. I told her she didn’t know me, and that was a lie. She knows too much, sees too much. I’ve spent two years trying to bury Tobias Eaton as deep as I could, to become someone new, and here she is, unearthing him.

I don’t like it. So why can’t I get myself to leave?

She reaches up and grabs one of the bars over our heads. Her foot goes into the joint where the support beams cross, and she steps into the tangle of white bars above us. I watch her, her breaths coming faster now, her eyes focused.

I wait until she’s a few steps ahead of me, and then I take the same path she did. My legs are unsteady; I push them forward. My hands are shaking; I firm them up around the beams. I can’t breathe; I force air into my nose so I’ll calm down. I’m so focused on not having an ill-timed panic attack that I don’t notice she’s stopped until I’m right up next to her.

She’s staring at the city. Our view is obstructed by the big black building at the end of the pier, but I see what she’s looking at anyway: there’s a huge plume of dark smoke in the distance. It’s as if a black cloud descended from the sky and swallowed part of the city’s center.

Something along the river—something big—is on fire.

“That’s Candor headquarters.” She sounds panicked, and I don’t understand why.

I hear the wail of sirens. The sound is eerie.

“I guess,” I say. “It could be any building along the river—”

“No.” Her eyes harden. “It’s not a coincidence; it can’t be. We have to get down.”

“Down?” I look up at the banner, which is still thirty feet above us. “But you’re so close—”

“I have to get down,” she snaps at me. “Christina is at Candor headquarters, and Mae, and my father, and the fire, it was probably—”

“Probably . . . ?”

“Probably Evelyn,” she says, with obvious reluctance.

“Shit.” I guide my foot down to the crossbeam it just left, and I start climbing down.

The problem with climbing down, I realize, is that I can’t help but stare at the ground. The distant ground, all the cracks in the pavement too far away to see. Where, if I let myself slip even once, I’ll break myself open.

My heart races. I keep going. Down, down, down to the platform. Then I let her go ahead of me on the ladder, her hands and feet moving fast on the rungs.

The second her feet touch the ground, she breaks into a run.

And even though I’m supposed to be helping my initiates win capture the flag, supposed to be playing the part of the dutiful instructor . . . I don’t even hesitate before running after her.

Chapter 27