A few minutes later, the Clayskin school nurse met us in my room and inspected my head. She left me with a liquid bandage as well as medication for pain.

“You can also request a hash treatment,” she said at the door. “It will relieve you quicker than anything I have. If you want, I can send up a Supply Room pass.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” I said.

She closed the door, leaving Jetson and me alone.

He eyed me. “Since when do you smoke hash?”

I curled away from him, drawing my knees to my chest. “It’s not against the rules if it’s for medicinal purposes,” I said. “I’ve seen you do it.”

“Yes, and you lectured me about it for an hour.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“You soaked my entire stash in water, and now you’re smoking it?”

He was right. Smoking hash was unlike me. Then again, Rebels in Cobane; Jones’ order to spy; a split between her and the other Teachers. The fabric of my existence was unraveling.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, wanting to crush the questions marching like ants across my mind. But how could I? How could I erase the inscription in Hosea’s book? If he was Dana Kumar’s son, then Kumar, the Director of the Kongo, had broken the Kongo mating laws by fornicating with a worker.

How could I forget Rowan’s words of a political coup? She had assumed that Jones was working with the Director. However, the black book, even now in my pocket, was proof that Jones had some other allegiance. She was not with the Director, but carrying out a deception against him. For what purpose, I could not guess. I did not want to guess!

“Arika, talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Dammit, enough lies! I know something is wrong. Hosea interrupted the Committee meeting to tell me you were unconscious in his room. Covington is livid you missed the meeting, by the way. Of course I knew Hosea lied, but I checked to make sure. And there you were, in his room, just as he said.”

I started to speak, but he held up a hand.

“You told us yesterday that you hadn’t heard a word about the New Seed vote despite being with the Teachers day and night. And I believed you. I defended you when the others scoffed. But no more, not when I find you lifeless in his bed. You can’t tell me you’re innocent!”

I pushed him away and uncurled slightly, trying to wrap my mind around the nuances, to tease from the tangle of information what to do, now that I’d been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the middle of the mess.

“Arika?”

“I’m thinking, Jetson. I’m thinking.”