I hold my breath. My muscles clench as I wait for Atlas’s signal to bolt—for the person Atlas marked as a Marshal to charge at us. Instead, the man ignores the electronic sign by stepping onto the crosswalk and hurrying to the other side.

“We’re good,” Atlas says quietly. “He’s after someone else.”

“How are you so sure he’s a Marshal instead of just some guy?” I ask.

“The way he’s moving and the shoes.”

“The shoes?” Now that I’m paying attention, I can see the smooth steps of the man are getting faster. He passes a couple pushing a stroller and is veering around the guys with the green shirts. “If he really is a Marshal, then who is he following?”

“He is a Marshal, and I’m pretty sure he’s following that girl—there.” He points to the lanky girl in the blue baseball hat, who has stepped off the sidewalk and is currently weaving between moving cars as she crosses outside the crosswalk to the opposite side of the street.

Sure enough. The guy with the sunglasses leaves the sidewalk and with even, measured steps follows the same route as the woman, who is moving north down the sidewalk, never pausing to look behind her.

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“What do you mean what do we do? We’re going to go back to the park, retrieve your bike, and get you home.”

“But what about her?” The girl in the blue hat disappears around the corner. The minute she’s out of sight the Marshal pulls out his phone. He punches something on the screen, slides it back into his pocket, and quickens to a jog. “You’re not going to just let him catch her, are you?”

“She’s not a Steward.”

“So what? That means it’s fine for her to just . . . disappear?” To end up like his dad or my mom? To have her family told a lie about how she vanished or why she died? “You want me to live with knowing that I saw something bad about to happen and I did nothing to stop it?”

Yeah, I don’t think so.

“Look, Meri, we have to—”

I don’t wait to hear whatever Atlas thinks we have to do. Instead, I look both ways at the cars coming down the road and bolt across the street.

Thirteen

Cars honk.

Tires squeal.

“Meri! What the hell?” I reach the other side and ignore the blinking Don’t Walk sign as I race across the next intersection. I’m not sure if I will be fast enough to find the girl, but I’m determined to try.

I dart around a couple stopping to admire something in a window display and stumble as Atlas appears, breathing hard beside me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he pants. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“No,” I yell, jogging around a man shoving his chair back from an outdoor café table. “I’m trying to stop anyone else from feeling like we do.”