I hate this. Curling up, I press my head to my knees, hugging myself like I could squeeze the ache out of my heart. It’s like losing them all over again. Is reliving these memories even working? Were my instincts right about anything? I was so certain Adam was going to be in my life, and look how that ended up. A single tear slips down my cheek. I should have turned and run the second I got to Intersection. But if I did, I wouldn’t be here…

My run-in with Chloe and Garrett from this morning pops into my head.

At least I didn’t back down.

Pressing my knees to my chest, I lift my head and breathe deep. As my lungs expand, hope creeps into my chest.

I’m glad I’m here, that I have a life where numbers mean nothing. At least I know who I am, now…

This time is going to be different.

Chapter Nine

September 20X5, Keystone

“Sophia’s already here,” Rayelle shouts, pointing at a girl with powdered white skin and a black widow’s peak who is sitting alone.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I yell over the din of the lunchroom.

Nestled in a grove of olive trees, the Atrium is located at the center of the circle that connects the grow houses and dorms. Metal scaffolds lined with pots growing fresh herbs create private nooks, and without the Network to distract them, kids are actually talking to each other. Their voices, combined with clacking silverware and chairs scraping across concrete floors, bounce over the hardscape.

“Come on.” Rayelle bumps her tray against mine, and I slowly follow her toward Sophia, stealthily scanning for Garrett, as has become my tendency. Our paths haven’t crossed since our run-in outside the Vault a week ago, and as much as I want to ignore him, there’s no use fighting his draw.

He’s hanging with Kyran and Liam in a crop of cushioned modules surrounding a firepit. Chloe and Harbor are there, too, acting like princesses on their thrones.

Indulging in a moment of observation, I sink down next to Sophia.

Placing her hand on Garrett’s arm, Chloe whispers something in his ear that makes him grin. A bolt of heat explodes in my brain. Maybe if I stare hard enough, I can slam her backward into a scaffold without moving a muscle. It’s wishful thinking. For some reason, seeing them together gets on my last nerve. It’s ridiculous—I have no reason to be so possessive-obsessive—but I don’t like her touching him.

“Did you hear about Faye?” Sophia asks, arching an eyebrow over a fuchsia eyelid with spider-thin liner legging out around it.

Reluctantly, I drag my attention to her. “Who’s Faye?” I sample a French fry. I can’t get over eating real food anytime I want. Meal-replacement drinks aren’t an option here. Steak and fries for lunch? Yes, please. Sign me up.

“She brilliantly just stole the Fairchild Patent Notebooks from the Computer History Museum in Mountain View,” Stewart answers, setting down his kale salad and cedar-planked salmon. Brain food, he calls it. “Cunning and beautiful. That girl is killing it.”