Chaper 6

EVER WAS PALE WHEN I RETURNED TO OUR QUARTERS JUST before dinner. I had been

avoiding her, but now I found it difficult to tear my gaze away from her pasty skin and shaking hands. If

she'd been a human I'd have thought she was sick.

She lifted her eyes to mine as I walked to my dresser to pull on a sweatshirt.

"Hey." She tried to smile at me and I had to look away. She didn't know. Shouldn't she know?

They said not to say anything. It was an order.

I stopped in the doorway, pausing when she just sat on the bed, twisting the white sheets around her

fingers.

"Are you coming?" I asked.

She looked up at me, a bigger smile on her face. She waited for me; I never waited for her. It

appeared she liked it.

Her legs shook as she stood, and I wanted to ask if she was okay. Stupid question. She wasn't. HARC

did something to her.

We walked down the stairs to the cafeteria in silence. After we filled our trays I had the wild thought

of going to sit with her. But she headed across the cafeteria, shoving a piece of steak in her mouth. I

trudged to the One-twenties table.

I watched as Ever plunked down opposite Twenty-two, who looked up and smiled at me. It faded as

he watched Ever desperately stuff meat in her mouth. He wrinkled his nose, looking from me to her, like,

What's wrong with her?

I had no idea.

He motioned for me to come over, but I certainly couldn't do that.

Well, I could. It wasn't a rule. But it would be odd.

Twenty-two patted the seat next to him and I frowned and shook my head. Ever turned to see who he

was gesturing to, her eyes skipping down the One-twenties table. She laughed, and I turned to see the

trainers all watching me, matching confused expressions on their faces.

Lissy opened her mouth and I stood, picking up my tray. I didn't want more questions or more weird

looks. There was no rule that I had to sit with them. I could sit wherever I wanted.

I strode across the cafeteria, dropping my tray on the table next to Ever. Twenty-two looked up at me,

dark eyes sparkling.

"Oh, how nice to see you, Wren."

Ever stared at me in amazement as I plopped down in the chair. I glanced over at Twenty-two's tray

to see nothing but an untouched piece of bread and a brownie.

"What is that?" I asked. "Did you already eat a real dinner?"

He looked down at the food. "No. I'm not very hungry. At least, I don't think I am. It's hard to tell."

"You'll be able to tell if you starve yourself too long," I said. "It's not fun." Hunger signals for

Reboots didn't come as quickly as they did with humans, but when they did come, they were intense. Our

bodies could survive without food indefinitely, but it was not appreciated. I'd barely eaten a thing my first

few days at the facility and had woken up one day so weak and starving I'd practically had to crawl to the

cafeteria.

"Clearly you're hungry," Twenty-two said to Ever with a laugh, pointing to her massive cheeks. It

looked as though she'd tried to stuff every piece of meat on her plate in her mouth at once. She managed a

weak smile as she swallowed.

I must have looked concerned, because she glanced down at her empty tray and then to me.

"I feel weird," she said quietly, the distress coming through in her voice.

"Weird how?" I asked.

"Like really hungry. And sort of fuzzy." She frowned. "I can't be sick, right?"

She looked at me expectantly and I said nothing. She returned her gaze to her plate in disappointment.

"The food makes me feel a little better, though. Less shaky," she added.

I felt a pang of something, perhaps that guilt again, and I quickly slid my meat onto her plate. She

looked up and smiled at me gratefully.

"You can have my food, too," Twenty-two said, beginning to slide his tray over.

I grabbed the edge of the tray and pushed it back, giving him a warning look. "At least eat a little. You

need your strength for training."

"Why do you get to do it?" he asked, pointing to where my meat used to be.

"Because I tell you what to do, not the other way around."

Ever giggled as she popped a giant hunk of beef into her mouth. "I prefer the meat, anyway."

"Do I ever get to tell you what to do?" he asked me.

"I doubt it." I grabbed my tray and got to my feet.

"No, please don't go." It was Ever who spoke, her eyes wide and pleading. She looked like the

thirteen-year-old girl I met years ago, sitting on the bed, absolutely terrified to be rooming with Oneseventy-eight. She didn't speak a word to me for a month. One day she had simply piped up with, "I'mfrom New Dallas. You?" and continued talking like we'd been friends all along. She'd had four sisters

back home and I think she eventually decided she had to adopt me as a sort of replacement or she would

lose her mind.

Still, I never would have guessed I was any sort of comfort to her. I wanted to sit back down and

enjoy the sense of being needed, the feeling of someone who liked things about me other than my number

and criminal-catching skills.

I sat. It felt like the right decision as soon as I did it. Ever smiled gratefully and I smiled back.

Twenty-two looked so delighted suddenly that I dropped my eyes to my plate and concentrated on eating

my beans.

A low growl woke me in the middle of the night. I rolled over on my mattress, blinking in the darkness.

Ever stood over my bed.

I bolted up to a sitting position, my heart pounding furiously. Her growling stopped and her bright

eyes bored into mine.

"Ever?" I whispered.

She lunged at me and I scrambled out of bed and across the room. She bared her teeth as she turned to

look for me.

I pressed my back to the wall as she approached, my heart beating faster than the time twenty

townspeople had chased after me with lit torches and various kitchen knives. I'd been stabbed multiple

times before I managed to outrun them, but somehow a weaponless, growling Ever was scarier.

"Ever!" I said, louder this time, and I ducked below her arm as she lunged at me again.

I ran across her bed and dove for the call button. I pushed it repeatedly, frantically, until Ever threw

herself on top of me. Her fingers closed around my neck and I gasped, pushing her off with all my

strength.

She slammed into the glass wall and sprang to her feet, tilting her head to the side as if examining her

prey. I balled my fists, the heat of a fight bursting through my body. She charged at me and I dropped to my

knees, grabbing one of her ankles.

She smashed to the ground with a yelp and I twisted her leg until it cracked. She let out a scream that

must have woken the whole wing. She came for me again, trying to balance on one leg, so I broke that one,

too.

She collapsed flat on her back, whimpering slightly. I sat down on my bed, looking at the door. The

humans must have been on their way.

But by the time both of Ever's legs had healed they still hadn't come. I broke them again before she

could get to her feet, covering my ears with my hands when she began yowling.

They never came.

They must have known. Those human bastards must have known that Ever was losing it, that she

attacked me, that I would have to stay up all night, again, to watch her, even after she passed out.

They knew and they didn't care.

I shouldn't have been surprised—Reboots were property, not people—but I felt the anger clenching at

my chest anyway. I had always been afforded a little more leeway, a little extra respect because of my

number and my track record.

But they didn't care what happened to us.

The people of the slums knew HARC didn't care a lick for them. I'd known it, as a child. HARC

might have been a "savior" to the last generation, to the humans they'd helped fight the Reboot war, but

not to those of us starving and dying in the slums.

After I became a Reboot, they fed and clothed me and I thought they respected me as the best. I thought

maybe they weren't so bad.

Maybe I was wrong.

When morning came I left the room before Ever stirred, but as I walked into the showers after my run I

found myself searching for her in the sea of Reboots. A few gave me odd looks, which I ignored. I needed

to talk to her and this was the only way.

Ever wouldn't know that I broke her legs four times last night. She wouldn't know what they did to

her.

Not unless I told her.

She came out of the changing room wearing only a towel. She stopped and looked at me curiously. I

gestured for her to continue and she did, stepping behind a curtain and snapping it closed.

I took a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching and darted behind the curtain with her.

She turned around and arched an eyebrow at me, a little smile at the edge of her mouth. I blushed as I

took a step back, hitting the curtain.

"Hi," she said. It was more of a question, and her smile grew as she hiked her towel farther up her

chest.

"There's something wrong with you," I blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Her smile faded.

"You . . . you're having nightmares or something. You've been screaming at night and you attacked

me."

A gasp escaped her throat just before she hit the ground. Huge sobs racked her body as I stood there

frozen. I didn't know what to think of that response. It seemed a gross overreaction.

Unless she knew what was going on.

I knelt down beside her. "Ever."

She continued to cry, rocking back and forth on her knees with her hands over her face. The sound

made me uncomfortable, made my chest tight. I didn't like it.

"Ever," I repeated. "Do you know what's going on?"

She took in desperate gasps of air, lowering her hands from her face.

"It's . . ." She collapsed into sobs again, falling against me.

I almost pushed her off. No one had used me for comfort, perhaps ever (unless I counted the times my

mom leaned on me when she was too high to walk). This was an awkward time for me to start, with her

being almost naked and all, but I beat down the urge to nudge her away.

Instead I awkwardly patted her back. She pressed her face into my shoulder and cried like a human.

"It's . . . them," she choked out. "They do something to us."

"To who?" I asked.

"To the Under-sixties." She took a deep breath and straightened. Her bright green eyes were tinged

with red. "They started giving us shots and it makes us . . ."

She didn't have to say it. I knew what it made them.

"I thought maybe I had slipped by because I was so close to sixty. They must have given me the shot in

my sleep while you were on assignment," she sniffled.

"Why would they do this?" I asked.

She shrugged, wiping at her nose. "We don't know. It started a few weeks ago. Some people have

said it makes them stronger, but others get all weird and hostile."

Weird and hostile was an understatement.

"Fifty-one was starting to go off the deep end last week," Ever continued. "But she said they gave her

another shot and it made her all normal again. Everyone thinks they're doing some sort of experiment on

us."

Everyone? Who was everyone? I'd never heard of this.

"We don't talk about it with Over-sixties," she said quietly, obviously noticing the look on my face.

"We're not supposed to. They tell the roommates they can't say anything." She tilted her head. "They

ordered you not to tell me?"

"Yes."

This brought on a fresh wave of tears, although I wasn't entirely sure why. I thought she choked out a

thank-you, but it was hard to tell.

I started to get up, but she grabbed my arm. "What did I do? Did I hurt you?"

"No. You screamed a lot. You attacked me. I broke both your legs several times last night. Sorry

about that."

She looked down at them. "Oh. That's okay."

"They gave you a shot the night before last, but they never came last night."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "That's why you look so tired." She wiped at her face with a corner of

her towel. "What am I supposed to do?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"What if I hurt you?"

"I'm stronger."

She closed her eyes and nodded slightly, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

Apparently that hadn't been a comforting thing to say.