“So the ‘first meeting’ is basically another anti-clone rally,” Pru says in disgust. “Disguised as a pro-human rally. As if you’re not human.” She almost can’t say the word.

“Is that how they’re going to spin this? With rhetoric around us not being fully human because of our ‘super strength’?” Theodora asks. We shrug. It’s likely. But we won’t know unless we go to the rally and see for ourselves.

It’s a freezing Saturday when March 22 rolls around. We head to the gym, furious that this rally’s going unchecked but not daring to miss it. This rally goes against everything Darkwood stands for. I burn inside at the thought of Fleischer approving this.

When we arrive and take our seats in folding chairs, it looks like the entire student body is here. I guess everyone realized this wasn’t a club meeting, but something a lot more sensational. Kids chatter all around us. Some whisper that this new club is DAAM reinvented. Others seem clueless about what’s about to unfold.

“Welcome, students,” says a voice over the chitchat. It’s Harlowe, talking into a microphone. She addresses the crowd. “Thanks for joining us today for the first official meeting of the Darkwood Academy Human Rights Club, otherwise known as DAHRC.” She pronounces it like “Dark.” “Fitting name, don’t you think? Because of Darkwood… Never mind.” She laughs. “You all get it.” Kids laugh and lean in to listen, and I can’t help but feel sick. Harlowe hates the Similars. She hates us. I know how much she’s relishing this moment.

“First order of business: explaining the club’s mission statement and how it came to be. Some of you know that another group I was involved in, one I’ll refrain from naming, had its charter revoked, because of some unseemly politics on the part of the administration. DAHRC is a new club that focuses not on the folks who are trying to take away our freedoms, but on us, and preserving the liberties we hold dear. That’s why we’re here today. To champion our rights. Our freedoms. Our individuality. Our humanity.”

I scan the gym for Jane. I know it will be her Duplicate, not her. Still, if she possesses all of Jane’s thoughts and memories, she’d be equally disapproving of this rally. I don’t see her. Only Fleischer, who stands in the corner, arms crossed over her chest.

“Let’s just call this what it is,” a voice speaks up from the crowd. It’s Willa, from the Ten, standing up in the audience, her face scrawled with fury. “A hate group.” I’m impressed. Willa seems to have found her confidence, and her voice.

There is muttering in the audience, a stir of reactions. Some agreeing. Others not.