But she doesn’t feel like arguing. Instead, she looks to the closed door.

Her stomach swirls uneasily.

“There are bad people out here,” she says.

“Come on.”

“I mean it, Tom. And that one…”

“That one what?”

“That one acted just like the kind of person Mom says we need to watch out for.”

“Oh, really? You think so?”

“Yes, I do. She’s told us a million times to watch out for theatrical people. Mom says those people wear masks.”

Tom scoffs. “Now you sound like her.”

“Oh? And what’s so bad about that? You really need to think about what you’re saying before you say it.”

But Olympia’s eye is on the closed, sliding door. Her ear, too, listening. Is the man Henry still on the other side? Did he go back to his own room yet? Can she hear him moving up the hall?

“Hey,” Tom says. “I’m not gonna freak Mom out. Don’t worry about it. Okay? I just…there’s a lot more to the world than Camp Yadin. And we’re seeing that for ourselves. Right now.”

It doesn’t matter what Tom’s saying. Olympia’s listening to the hall.

Does he move out there?

She hears nothing. She steps to the door.

“The only way we’re gonna get anywhere,” Tom says, “is if we—”

“Close your eyes, Tom.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

He does.

Olympia slides the door open, quickly. She expects to see the silver-haired man standing, staring back.

But the hall is empty. She closes the door.

“What’s going on?” Tom asks.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

Tom scoffs again. “And you don’t think you’re starting to act like Mom? Jeez. The only difference is you don’t always wear your fold! Even when we’re outside!”

Olympia feels exposed. How does he know this?

“How would you know?”

“Are you kidding? I can hear the cloth against your skin when you wear it,” he says. He gets up and stands behind her. Both of them are reflected in the glass now. “And I know when there’s no cloth on that face of yours. So don’t get all dramatic on me. You break rules, too.”

She’s trying not to look him in the eye.

Don’t get all dramatic on me.

Dramatic.

Malorie has used the word a thousand times. Always a warning.

Is there a type? Are the ones who perform on this stage, the new world, the maddest?

“Anyway,” Tom says. “Get ready to close your eyes. To pretend to go along with the rules. Mom just left the dining car.”

SEVENTEEN

As the door to the dining car closes behind her, Malorie walks with her arms outstretched.

She brushes shoulders with someone.

“Excuse me,” she says.

She hears a woman whisper to someone else, “Why is she still wearing her fold?”