I’m taking on the parent role of the group, which feels ironic and strange considering I’ve been practically parentless for so long. Or maybe that’s exactly why I’m good at this. I remind the others to keep their backpacks close and not to lose sight of each other as we make our way through the thick, pulsing crowds. As smart as the Similars are, and well trained as fighters and thinkers, when it comes down to it, they lack some of the basic life experience and street smarts I learned at an early age. As a kid, I had no choice but to teach myself to read a Muni map—that’s San Francisco’s public transit. I often cooked up my own mac and cheese, with Genevieve’s help. I’ve never thought about it much before, but now I’m acutely aware of how well my father prepared me for adulthood. An adulthood without him.

After we’ve eaten two hot dogs each, I direct everyone to the subway, where we catch an N train to the East Village. I’ve mapped the address of the apartment and lead our group toward that spot. When we finally find a ramshackle building on Avenue A, it’s so unassuming I almost wonder if I have the right address.

But then again, a safe house would be discreet, wouldn’t it?

I type the encrypted key code into the lock and am relieved when it works. If it hadn’t, I don’t know where we would have gone. I’m pretty sure minors can’t rent hotel rooms, even with my dad’s credit card. We’d be wandering the streets all night.

The apartment is small—a cramped three-bedroom with a tiny living area, kitchen, and bathroom. We bolt the door, since it makes us feel a tiny bit safer. We work late into the night learning everything we can about the rally, which is being held on the lower western edge of Central Park. Someone orders pizza, and eventually we all find spots to fall asleep, in our clothes. Levi and I haven’t talked since we got here, but there hasn’t been a minute when I haven’t felt connected to him. Maybe it’s because of our close quarters; maybe it’s because I’ve missed him for so long now, in spite of our breathing the same air space.

We spend Sunday visiting the rally site, where volunteers for Bianca’s campaign are already setting up seating, a temporary stage, lighting, and kiosks.

“I bet he’ll do it right before she goes on stage,” Maude says, assessing the situation. “When she could be whisked off for hair and makeup, or to prep for her speech…”

“And whoever Gravelle has planted to infiltrate her team will drug her and send Duplicate Bianca on stage instead,” Levi cuts in, grim.