She, like all the others, was oblivious.

“You know…” Cate said after a while. She kept her eyes on the dark road, to where it met the brightening sky. “It was brave of you to take the pills and come with me. I knew there was more to you than the quiet girl I met in the Infirmary.”

I’m not brave. If I had been, I would have owned up to what I really was, no matter how terrible. I would have worked, eaten, and slept alongside the other Oranges, or at least stepped out of the shadow of the Yellows and Reds.

Those kids had been so proud of their powers. They made a point of harassing the camp controllers at every turn, hurting the PSFs, setting their cabins and the Washrooms on fire, trying to talk their way out of the gate or driving the adults insane by putting images of murdered families or cheating wives in their heads.

It was impossible to miss them, to not step aside and turn away when they passed. I had let myself sit like a coward in the dull, endless stream of gray and green, never drawing attention, never once letting myself believe that I could or should escape. I think that all they wanted was to find a way out, and to do it themselves. They had burned so bright, and fought so hard to get free.

But none of them had made it to sixteen.

There are a thousand ways to tell if someone is lying to you. You don’t need to be able to glimpse into their mind to catch all of the little signs of insecurity and discomfort. More often than not, all you have to do is look at them. If they glance to the left while they’re talking to you, if they add too many details to a story, if they answer a question with another question. My dad, a cop, taught me and twenty-four other kids about it in second grade, when he gave his presentation on Stranger Danger.

But Cate had no tells. She told me things about the world that didn’t seem possible, not until we were able to pick up a radio station and a solemn voice bled through the speakers to confirm it all.

“Yes!” she cried, slapping her palm against the wheel. “Finally!”

“The president has reportedly refused an invitation from Britain’s prime minister to discuss possible relief measures for the world economic crisis and how to pump life back into the sagging global stock markets. When asked to explain his decision, the president cited the United Kingdom’s role in the UN’s economic sanctions against the United States.”

Cate fiddled with the tuning again. The newscaster’s voice faded in and out. At the first burst of static, I jumped.

“…forty-five women were arrested in Austin, Texas, yesterday for attempting to evade the birth registry. The women will be detained in a corrections facility until their children are born, after which the infants will be removed for the safety of their mothers and the state of Texas. The attorney general had this to say…”

Another voice came through, this one deep and raspy. “In accordance with New Order 15, President Gray issued an arrest warrant for all persons involved with this dangerous activity.…”

“Gray?” I said, glancing over to Cate. “He’s still the president?”

He had only just been elected when the first cases of IAAN appeared, and I couldn’t really remember anything about him, other than that he had dark eyes and dark hair. And even that I only knew because the camp controllers had strung up pictures of his son, Clancy, all over camp as proof to us that we, too, could be reformed. I had a sudden, sharp memory of the last time I had been in the Infirmary, and the way his picture had seemed to watch me.

She shook her head, visibly disgusted. “He granted himself a term extension until the Psi situation is, and I quote, resolved so as to make sure the United States is safe from telekinetic acts of terror and violence. He even suspended Congress.”

“How did he manage that?” I asked.

“With his so-called wartime powers,” Cate said. “Maybe a year or two after you were taken, some Psi kids nearly succeeded in blowing up the Capitol.”

“Nearly? What does that mean?”

Cate glanced over again, studying my face. “It means that they only succeeded in blowing up the Senate portion of it. President Gray’s control of the government was only supposed to last until new congressional elections could be held, but then the riots started when the PSF started pulling kids from schools without their parents’ permission. And then, of course, the economy tanked and the country defaulted on its debt. You’d be surprised how little voice you have when you lose everything.”

“And everyone just let him?” The thought turned my stomach.

“No, no one just let him. It’s chaos out here right now, Ruby. Gray keeps trying to tighten his control, and every day more and more people are rioting or breaking whatever laws we have left just to get food on the table.”

“My dad was killed in a riot.”

Cate turned around to face the backseat so quickly the car actually swerved into the other lane. I had known Martin was awake for at least ten minutes; his breathing had become much lighter, and he had stopped doing his weird little lip licking and grunts. I just hadn’t wanted to talk to him, or to interrupt Cate.

“The people in our neighborhood robbed his store for food, and he couldn’t even defend himself.”

“How are you feeling?” Sugar coated Cate’s words, almost as sweet as the vanilla air freshener twirling around in front of us.

“Okay, I guess.” He sat up, trying to pat down his floppy brown hair into something presentable. Martin was round all over; his cheeks drooped and his uniform shirt might have been a size too small, but he hadn’t started growing like the other kids in his cabin. I had maybe an inch or two on him, and I was short, with an average build. He couldn’t have been more than a year younger than I was.