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57
HOW WELL WE DID DETERMINED how long we lived. Becca told me that.
“Take a seat. I’m Ms. Strepp. I’m glad to finally meet you, Cassandra Greenfield.”
I sat down at a desk. Why would she care about meeting me?
Writ
ten on the whiteboard at the front of the room was: “Appearances are often deceiving” - Aesop. I’d heard of Aesop—we’d read some of his stories in school. His morals were always good lessons for the cell.
“First you’ll be tested on the basics,” Ms. Strepp went on briskly.
“Okay,” I said, and she strode over and whacked my desk with her wooden ruler.
“You speak when I tell you!” she snapped, and I pressed my lips together because I’d heard that same expression just… maybe yesterday?
It began. I was hungry and cold and exhausted, but I concentrated, thinking each question through carefully. It was all stuff I’d seen before, so if I didn’t make any sloppy mistakes, I would be all right.
Ms. Strepp paced back and forth all night and all day long, staring at me, glancing at her watch. A couple of times she left the room, but a guard immediately came in each time.
In the middle of an essay about the history of our cell (a cinch because we were all required to memorize it anyway) a few hot tears filled my eyes. I brushed them away.
This was ridiculous. Surreal. I’d only wanted to find my sister. I hadn’t been a bad citizen. I hadn’t even been an Outsider.
It was dark again when Ms. Strepp finished looking at all my test results. I was so hungry I felt almost sick—that horrible, hollow feeling you get when you’ve gone too long without refueling.
Finally Ms. Strepp looked up. “You did extremely well. I guess you’re used to being a star pupil, eh?”
I nodded cautiously.
Ms. Strepp threw my tests into the trash can. “I’m not impressed, star pupil!” she snarled. “Every kid in here gets scores like this!”
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Not Becca.”
Ms. Strepp stopped in mid-pace and turned to me. “Yes, Becca,” she said. “Becca aces these tests. She’s a star pupil.”
“Becca?” I couldn’t help asking. “Becca Greenfield?”
“Yes, Becca Greenfield,” Ms. Strepp repeated snidely. “She now gets almost perfect scores. Like you.”
Well. All I could think was: What the hell happened to Becca?
“In fact, I think you’ll find your sister very changed from when you last saw her,” Ms. Strepp went on.
No kidding, I thought. She’s a different person.
“And you’re about to find that out in a very visceral way,” Ms. Strepp said.
I raised my eyebrows as she motioned for the guards to come in.
“Take her to the ring,” she said.
58
NATHANIEL
“HERE.” NATHANIEL’S FATHER THREW ANOTHER photograph down. Like the others, it was grainy and obviously taken from a distance. Like the others, it was a picture of Nate. Nate and Cassie Greenfield. His father had photos of him talking to Cassie in the school parking lot, outside by the town square, in the hallway at school by her locker, and then, from very far away, Cassie and him on their mopeds, heading for the ring road, the day he’d taken her to meet the Outsiders. To his relief, there were no photos of the abandoned farm or its barn.
