A bus barrels through the intersection.
I gasp.
A bus.
I look into the eyes of a very shaken young businessman. He releases his grip on me, and his mouth pops open as his briefcase clunks to the sidewalk. I stare back at him, panting hard. And then another hand grabs my shoulder from behind. I don’t have to turn.
“Iris!” Indigo pants. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You’re a liar!” I try to push his arm off me, but he just holds on tighter. “All of you! You lied to me!”
I ignore the group of Asian tourists gaping at me outside the Boston Common Visitor Information Center. A tour guide dressed as a colonist—powdered wig and all—tries to divert their attention to the Park Street Church just a block away.
“Nobody lied to you,” Indigo shouts. “They withheld the truth. There’s a difference.”
“There’s no difference.” I duck down and dart left, then grab Indigo’s shoulder and flip him onto his back. “A lie told is no different than a truth omitted.”
Indigo’s eyes pop open in shock, but he doesn’t try to get up. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Iris!”
It’s a different voice this time. A louder voice. An angrier voice. I already recognize it.
I look up to see Alpha running toward us. That’s when I also notice the crowd of people gawking at us from both sides of Tremont Street. It’s not just the tourists. It’s everyone within a two-block radius. Can I turn and run? Doubtful. But there is something I can do. I have time at my disposal. I pull the Annum watch out from under my sweater.
“Don’t even think about it,” Alpha growls as I pop open the lid. He’s closing in on me. Only a few steps away.
I spin the top knob a few times. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I don’t want to project—that would be stupid—but I don’t want to be here right now.
“I’ll track you,” Alpha says. “I’ll track you, and I’ll find you, and I’ll strip you of that watch and ship you off to Carswell so fast your head will spin.”
Carswell again. Prison. Texas. That’s far away from Massachusetts, from Vermont, from everyone I know and love. And I have a tracker in my arm. Even if I did run, I’d never make it.
I drop the watch and it plunks against my chest. Indigo pushes himself off the ground and stares at me with worried eyes.
Alpha grabs on to my shoulder, spins me around, and marches me back toward Beacon Street. His grip is strong. “Explain yourself.” He’s whispering, but it’s low and dangerous.
“You explain yourself,” I spit, and Alpha yanks on my shoulder to let me know I’m out of line. But I don’t care. “Chronometric Augmentation is genetic? And I’m your guinea pig?”
“I told you all of that before.”
“No, you didn’t!”
Alpha stops halfway across Boston Common and whips me around so fast I stumble over my feet. “I told you that membership in Annum Guard has been set since it started and that the government wants to experiment with adding new members. So tell me, what exactly did I lie to you about?” Indigo comes to a halt a few feet away and looks at the ground.
“It’s what you didn’t tell me,” I say.
“I didn’t tell you that Chronometric Augmentation was genetic. Fine. Now you tell me. Why is that such a big deal? Why are you acting like such a child over this?”
“I’m not acting like a child,” I say, knowing full well that it makes me sound like a whiny kid. “Your parents were Annum Guard, too. You’re all a part of this secret society, and I’m the outsider.”
Alpha stares at me, long and hard. One second passes. Two seconds. Five. Six. Way longer than necessary. Then he jerks his head toward Beacon. “Walk.”
We cross the Common without saying another word. Indigo follows behind us. I’m dreading reaching Annum Hall. Hall of Lies.
I wonder if this is it. If they’re going to throw me out and lock me up. I never found out about my dad.
My feet feel heavy on the stairs leading to the stoop, and Alpha unlocks the front door. He holds it open for Indigo, then pushes me through.
“I trust you have an assignment to keep yourself busy?” he asks Indigo.
Indigo nods and then shoots me the same look as before. Concern. Genuine concern. Dammit. Why does Indigo have to be so nice all the time? I give him a stone-faced stare in return, and his brow creases and his face crumples. He walks into the library and shuts the door behind him.
“Follow me,” Alpha orders.
I do. I have no choice. We cross the living room to the hallway by the stairs. We’re going to his office. Dread washes over me, threatening to suffocate me.
Alpha stops in front of his office and raises his hand. He angles his back to me but not enough to fully block my view. I pretend to look at my feet but train my eyes up and over to the keypad, just like they taught us at Peel. Never stare at someone when they enter a code. But never miss what they type either.
Alpha enters 940211, and I’ve already got it broken down and memorized as the door clicks open. 940. That’s an area code in Texas. It covers Wichita Falls, where my freshman year roommate at Peel was from. The area code would pop up on her phone all the time. 211. That’s the community service phone number in Vermont. They play it on commercials. 940211. Got it.
Alpha turns the handle and gestures me inside. I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to sit or stand, so I stay on my feet. Alpha crosses around the desk and sits. “I should report this.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. Pleading is a sign of weakness.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”
Alpha wants a reason? I could give him one. I could call him out. But I don’t. Not yet, at least. “Because nothing happened. I went for a stroll across Boston Common, and that’s it.”
“That’s not it, and you know it.”
“I was upset because I found out you’ve all been lying, and—”
Alpha slams his hand down onto the desk so hard the entire thing shakes. For a second I wonder if it’s going to crack in two.
“If you say that word one more time, you’re done. I am your superior. They taught you this at Peel, no? Listen to your commanding officer; do what you’re told. CIA, FBI, it’s all the same, Iris. It amazes me that someone with such an authority problem made it this far.” Alpha pauses for a few seconds and then continues. “The information I choose to disclose to you is based on security concerns and is done on a need-to-know basis. So stop acting like I’m your father.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Father. I don’t have one of those. But when I look at Alpha, his light-brown eyes, buzzed haircut, and five-o’clock shadow fizzle away, and I can’t help but picture my dad’s face on Alpha’s body.
The image is fuzzy. All I’ve seen of my dad are two old photos in my mom’s house, but the image is there. What is it like to have a dad who cares enough to yell at you when you mess up? God, do I have daddy issues or what?
I shake the image from my mind and look back at Alpha. “I never—”
“Save it. You’ve been trained better than this, and I don’t want to hear it anymore. Just remember what I told you the first day we met. There’s no running from me. I’ll find you. Wherever, whenever you go, I’ll find you. You almost made a very, very foolish decision today. Don’t repeat it. Now go.”
Alpha points to the door. I can barely remember how to walk. But I put one foot in front of the other and leave the office. I trudge over to the stairs and start climbing. Holy Jesus. That was . . . scary.