“Mmm.” Mr Wetheral paused over the writing in the corner. “If you look there, you’ll see that Mr Opal was right. This is an official eldest photograph. There used to be lots of them, but it’s all paintings now. Photography equipment’s so hard to come by. But this boy definitely went to camp.”

The writing was huge through the glass.

Felix R. Opal, Eldest Bound for Glory.

M. M. Lombardo

“See? The photographer has titled and signed the image. Just like I do on my eldest portraits.”

I gently moved the glass aside and tried to read it straight off the photo.

“How can the photographer have written it that small?”

“Oh, they’d have signed a much larger version. The customer must have requested a smaller copy. Easy enough to produce, if you have access to the right equipment. And a reliable power supply, of course.”

“You know what this means?” My heart quivered. “It means Mr Opal was telling the truth – Una doesn’t have to go to camp.”

“Indeed she doesn’t.”

Mr Wetheral handed me the photo. I slid it back into The New Poets, tucked it safely under my arm.

I was going to get my friend back.

But.

But. But. But. If Mr Opal had told the truth about Felix, what about the other things he’d said? Was the Quiet War really over?

“You all right, Maggie?” Mr Wetheral wrapped the magnifying glass back up in its cloth.

“There’s something else. Something Mr Opal said.”

“Mmmm? What’s that?”

No.

Mayor Anderson wouldn’t trade our eldests, or lie to us about the war.

She wouldn’t.

My ribcage hammered against The New Poets. Stupid Maggie middler. Afraid again.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s nothing. It’s just that I have to take this photograph to the mayor now, before she takes Una to camp. And I don’t want to be too late.”

“Be careful what you say, Maggie.” Mr Wetheral put the glass away in the drawer. “It’s best if you don’t tell Mayor Anderson you went out of the boundary.”

“OK.” My voice came out small.

Mr Wetheral put his right hand on my shoulder. Ungloved. Warm.

“It’s all right to feel afraid, you know.” He smiled. “Being brave doesn’t mean not feeling afraid. True bravery is feeling your fear, but going ahead and doing what’s right anyway.”

Feeling your fear, but going ahead and doing what’s right anyway.

Like Jed and Lindi, going to camp.

CHAPTER 26

Mayor Anderson opened the door, her hair loose to her shoulders.

“Maggie Cruise!” She held her arms out wide. “The hero of the hour. What can I do for you?”

Be brave, Maggie. Feel your fear.

“It’s Una,” I said, “the wanderer girl. She’s not an eldest.”

“S’that right now?” She leaned on the door frame.