7 Students Remaining
It’s a typo. Or maybe the reporter made a mistake. I open another article, and another after that, no longer reading, just scanning the blur of words for pronouns. But there’s no other mention of the baby’s sex.
Event: Birth
Name: John Doe
Sex: Male
Date: November 2, 2009
It’s official: Eli and Cynthia Michaels’s child was a boy. Which means Eli isn’t my father. Cynthia was never my mother.
And I have no idea who I really am.
There’s a sharp knock on my door, jarring me out of my research stupor. I stand, dazed, the word male repeating in my head. Male male male male.
Moving as in a dream, I cross my room and open the door. Scarlett’s waiting in the hall. It’s dark, but even in the darkness I can see that her expression is more anxious than usual. She glances over her shoulder, as though to make sure we’re alone, and says, “I need to talk to you.”
I usher her in, pulling the door shut behind her. She walks to the center of my room, turns, and paces a few steps in the other direction. I’ve never seen her pace before.
I frown. “Scar? What’s going on?”
She exhales, her breath shaky, and says in a rush, “You remember the cafeteria the other day? Mando…”
Her voice cracks when she says his name, but I’m already nodding. I have no desire to relive that moment. “Of course I remember what happened to Mando.”
“Right,” she says. “Well, okay, so I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since it happened.
And I realized something today. I don’t remember what they did with his phone after they…
” Scar lifts her arm, motioning to her hand, as though she can’t say the words out loud.
“He had the phone and then he didn’t. And then there was chaos and we were all being ushered out of the room. So where did the phone go?”
I swallow, but all I can remember from that day is the arc of the mallet coming down on Mando’s hand, the sound of his screaming. I shiver. “One of the TAs must have confiscated it.”
“Or,” Scar says, pointing at me, “maybe the phone fell on the floor and got kicked under something in the chaos.” And before I can say another word, she takes my hand and presses something small and hard into my palm.
The bottom falls out of my stomach. I uncurl my fingers, staring down at Mando’s phone.
“Scarlett,” I say, awed. Suddenly worried someone might be listening, I motion for her to keep her voice down.
“I circled back to the cafeteria after dinner,” she whispers. “I told the guards I’d left my tablet on one of the tables, so they let me go into the cafeteria alone to look for it. I found the phone under one of the food stations.”
I’m stunned by her rule breaking. “You have no idea how proud I am,” I tell her. Honestly, I feel close to tears. “Have you called anyone?”
Scar shakes her head. “The only person I could call is Tammy, and…you know how she is, Lia. She’d probably just get in touch with the school and tell them everything.” Scar takes a deep breath, steadying herself before adding, “Maybe we could try the cops?”
A smile unfurls over my face. “Scar, you’re a genius.”
“You really think they’ll help us?”
“Of course not,” I say. But I’m already crossing my room, digging through my closet for the plaid skirt I was wearing the day I got arrested for breaking into the school district office.
That was months and months ago now, but the skirt is dry-clean only, which means I haven’t washed it since this summer.
Thank God, because when I dig through the pocket, I find the business card Hank gave me all the way back in June, crumpled and worn from months in my pocket.
Call next time you’re in trouble, Hank said. I might be able to help you come up with a solution that doesn’t end with you in cuffs.
I smile as I stare down at his number, which is still clear despite the deep creases in the paper. I don’t even have to think about it. I know Hank will come if I tell him I’m in trouble.
Yet, I hesitate for just a moment. Ashlyn said we’re all supposed to be here.
We’re violent, prone to addiction and lawbreaking, the kind of kids who will hurt other people if we’re let out in the general population.
That’s why we got sent here, isn’t it? We’re a danger to others.
By going through this program, we’re protecting other kids.
I chew my lip. It’s like one of those moral problems they’re so fond of here: Is it worth it to lock up a few kids if it saves so many others?
But Ashlyn was wrong. I’m not really Eli Michaels’s daughter, which means I’m not actually predestined to be some sort of violent monster.
And if they were wrong about me, how many other kids were they wrong about?
I don’t believe Zo and Seven and Mando and Scarlett are dangerous, do I?
They don’t deserve what’s happened to them.
I don’t care what their stupid tests tell them. This place isn’t really a school—it’s a torture chamber.
I dial Hank’s number. My heart hammers like a fist beneath my breastbone as the phone rings and rings. It’s late…Hank’s probably already left work for the night. My throat closes up. What do I do if no one answers?
But Hank does, on the third ring. As soon as I’ve said hello, he grunts, “Lia? What the hell, kid—”
My fingers tighten around the phone. I’m so relieved I could throw up. “Hank,” I choke out. “Hank, it’s an emergency. I need you to come pick us up.”
“What?” Hank’s voice is several degrees more alert than it was a second ago. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“There isn’t time to explain. Will you come? I’m at the Luminary school. It’s about two hours outside of Springfield. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
“Lia, what the…” Hank trails off, sighing heavily. It seems to take ages before he exhales and says, “Yeah, okay. Where can I find you?”
I pick up my lockpick set and slide it into the pocket. “Main entrance,” I tell him. “I’ll be there at twelve thirty tonight.”
It would probably be a good idea to try and get some sleep, but I know that won’t be possible. I’m too worried about missing my time window. Instead, I lie on my side in bed, watching the minutes tick by on my tablet.
10:19 p.m…. 11:03 p.m…. 11:31…
11:47…
As soon as the clock flips from 12:19 to 12:20, I crawl out of bed.
Everyone’s already waiting by the time I creep downstairs.
This was Scarlett’s job. Being universally adored, it was easy for her to find a reason to talk to each of Luminary’s remaining students, covertly explain our plan, tell them if they want to come with us, they need to meet us in the front hall at exactly 12:20.
There are five of us in total: Aarav, Scarlett, me, Ian, and Rani.
Ian’s leaning against the wall just beside the door, arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to appear bored.
But I can tell he’s watching me. I feel a tug in my chest, and for a moment, I wish it were just the two of us.
I imagine how I’d go to him and let him put his arms around me, how I’d tell him what I learned about Eli and Cynthia, that I have no idea who I really am.
And he’d say something rude in response: Don’t be an idiot, Michaels, of course you know who you are.
You’re a pain in my ass. Or probably something cleverer, something that would make me smile despite how shitty I feel.
Ian stares back at me, eyes narrowing. What? he mouths. I shake my head: There’s no time to get into it now. Later, I mouth back. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting out.
I motion for everyone to keep quiet as I unlock the door with my cloned key card. Rani pulls me aside before I can step out.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks. He sounds concerned, like he’s worried for me. Something in my chest twists.
“I’m sure, Rani,” I tell him. “This place is dangerous. We can’t stay here.”
Rani searches my face, emotion in his eyes. He’s still holding me by the wrist, the calluses on his fingers scratchy against my bare arms. I wait for him to argue with me, tell me I’m overreacting. But he just nods.
“Then I guess this is the only way,” he says, dropping my arm. Silently, we all slip outside.
I lead the group off the lighted sidewalk and down the same worn path that Ashlyn took me down a few hours ago, to the dead zone where Wyatt’s microphones won’t pick us up.
Once we’ve arrived, I turn to face the others, who gather around me in a loose circle.
“What about the other two students?” I ask Scarlett. “Grace Parker and…”
“Daniel Lewis, from Strategist,” Scar says. “They didn’t want to come. I’m sorry, I tried to convince them, but I guess they were scared.”
“It’s okay, you did the best you could. I’m glad the rest of you came.
” Then, as quickly as I can, I go on to explain the escape plan: the cameras shutting off for fifteen minutes starting at 12:32, and the guards leaving the front gate unwatched for five minutes at a time, how I think I’ll be able to pick the lock, how Hank is on his way here now.
“Any questions?” I ask when I’ve finished. For a moment, no one speaks. Rani looks uneasy, but he doesn’t say a word.
Then Aarav swears under his breath and says, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I can’t believe I ever thought of the Luminary campus as a welcoming or beautiful place.
Buildings hunch just beyond the glow of streetlamps, reminding me of predatory animals lying in wait. Shadows stretch long across the grass. The trees, bare and skeletal in the moonlight, sway in a wind I don’t feel.
We race through the grounds toward the main entrance. The air around us is crisp, tinged with the scent of fallen leaves and wet earth. The night is eerily silent, our hurried footsteps and labored breaths the only things I hear.
The quiet is shattered by the sharp crack of a twig.
I stop running and whirl around, breathing hard. The others stop, too. They stare back at me from the shadows, their eyes reflecting the streetlamps around us, seeming to glow in the dark.
I can’t tell who stepped on the twig. Maybe it wasn’t one of us at all, but one of the guards following us.
Hunting us. The thought is chilling. I look beyond the others, searching the distant trees for movement.
Wind shakes the branches above my head, sending a few dead leaves rattling to the ground below, and when I look up, I see the shadowy outline of a crow.
I can’t tell for sure that it’s Luna, but I want to believe that it is, that she’s watching out for us.
After a moment I give a nod, and we continue our race through the trees.
It takes five minutes to reach the main gates. At 12:28, we crouch behind the same tree where I hid a few nights ago, counting the minutes until the guards left my escape route untended. They’re stalking past the main gates now. I motion for the others to duck down into the shadows. And wait.
At 12:30, the guards cross in front of the gates. At 12:31, they’re walking in opposite directions. At 12:32, the cameras should be switched off.
And at 12:34, the guards disappear around the perimeter of the wall.
It’s time.
I race out of the trees and drop to my knees in front of the gate.
Five minutes, I think.
Hurry.
My fingers are numb, and clumsy. It’s like they’re not really attached to my body, like I’m watching someone else’s hands perform movements I’ve practiced dozens of times before. It’s a surreal feeling, but I don’t have time to marvel at the strangeness of it just now. The clock is ticking.
I thread two lockpicks into the padlock and get to work, trying to ignore the nervous breathing of the people hovering around me.
I’m pretty sure I can see the shape of a car through the thick ivy vines clinging to the wrought iron, and my chest tightens.
I hope it’s Hank. I hope he’s outside now, waiting for us.
I dig my teeth into my lower lip, every bit of my attention tunneling down to the lock in front of me. The two picks in my fingers.
I feel the slightest release: One of the pins has been worked free. I exhale, relieved, and maneuver the picks slightly to the left. Another release. Two down.
My palms are sweating. My eyesight is clouding. But I feel something like elation rising inside me, keeping my fingers moving.
I’m going to do it. I’m really going to do it. We’re almost free.
And then the security lights flick on, bathing us all in a harsh fluorescent glow. I shove my lock picks under my shirt a second before the guards step out of the shadows, and I hear them bark at me to get my hands in the air.
I freeze. I don’t stand. I don’t put my hands in the air. I’m so close, I think. Hank is right there, and the lock is nearly open. This can’t be happening.
Everyone else is standing, hands in the air. Rani is closest to me, so he’s the one I look up at. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear his voice over the blood pumping in my ears.
I frown. “What?”
Rani swallows. I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I had to.”
The guards rush past him. They drag me to my feet, pin my arms behind my back. One of them pats Rani on the shoulder and says, “Good work, kid.”
And maybe I’m not as smart as I always thought I was, because that’s the moment I finally get it.
Rani called the guards. Rani told them we were going to try to break out tonight.
He betrayed us all.