“No.” Rose frowns. “I’m going to stay in Isaac’s room for now. You can take mine.”

As she heads down the hall with the books clutched tight in her hands, I say, “I’m going to make this right.”

I don’t know how, but I have to. Atlas’s dad. Rose’s brother. The Marshals took them. We have to do something to get them back, but the Marshals have guns and numbers on their side. What do I have?

Do I sleep? I must. One minute I am listening to the sound of Mrs. Webster coming home and the next my eyes snap open and I’m squinting at the sunlight streaming through the frothy curtains.

I scramble out of bed and peer into Isaac’s room. Rose is curled on the bed wearing Isaac’s school jacket—fast asleep.

Mrs. Webster is already gone when I finish showering and pull on jeans, a fitted black T-shirt, and Stef’s blue hat. A note on the refrigerator tablet says there has been no news. That Mrs. Webster has gone to the police station again and Rose should call her when she gets up. I’m not sure when that will be, but I am determined to have something to tell her when she does.

I pull my phone out of my backpack, ignore the voice mail from my father, and text Atlas: SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED. NEED TO SEE YOU NOW, along with Rose’s address. Because I can’t just stay on the sidelines like the Stewards. When I think about Rose and her mother—Atlas and his father; my dad and the voice mail I finally listen to that is filled with apologies that he seems doomed to make again and again because of what the people in charge of our government did to my mother—I can’t just wait for something to happen that will change things. I have to try to put things right no matter the danger.

Relief flickers across Atlas’s face when I answer the door. “I was worried something happened to you,” he says, stepping into the living room. “I’m supposed to be helping prepare for the lockdown. So I have to make this fast.”

“My friend Rose, her brother was taken yesterday—because of me. I took his ID and used it to get into the archives. Now they think he’s one of you, and I have to get him back.”

Atlas shakes his head. “If you try you’ll get taken, too.”

“I don’t care.”

“I get why you say that.” He takes a step forward. “But you don’t mean it.”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “I do. I can’t unsee what you’ve shown me. I can’t pretend not to know what I know. How can you?”

“I’m not pretending anything, Meri, and you don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” I admit. “I don’t understand how you can plan to lock yourself underground when your father needs your help.”

His jaw tightens. Hurt colors his eyes and I realize I’ve gone too far.

“Atlas, I know you want to help your father.” I place a hand on his arm. “We can still do that. We can help him and Isaac and all the others they’ve taken who are still in the city.”