"How do you reckon it happened?" Carson asks while I sit there in stunned silence. "How'd they make us this way?"

"I don't know," Willow answers. "My siblings all caught chicken pox over the years, but I was the odd one out. I always assumed it was luck. It never crossed my mind that someone made me like this."

I know what she means. It's hard to look back at the last seventeen years of my life and pinpoint anything that stands out. Any red flag that indicates I'd end up here someday. Other than Sam's nightmarish upbringing and my mom ignoring us or going out on the town with friends half her age, nothing stands out.

There were never any strange people showing up at our house. No visits to laboratories where they poked me with needles and attached electrodes to my scalp. No unorthodox medicine that might've given me super health. If the Takers did anything to me—to all of us—it had to have happened very early during childhood.

Carson chews on his thumbnail, his eyes darting between my face and Willow's. He lowers his hand and swallows. "Shit, they experimented on us, didn't they?"

"Not necessarily," I say. "We don't know anything for sure."

"You're doing it again," Carson says.

"Doing what?"

"Trying to protect me."

"I didn't . . ." I fade away, realizing that's exactly what I was doing.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a poor attempt at a smile. "Sorry. It's hard for me not to get prickly about things like that."

"Why?" Willow asks.

"Well, it's mostly because of my brother. He's big like the rest of my brothers and real scary-looking. Kind of like Eli, but a lot nicer."

Willow smiles. "I'm sure anyone would be nicer than Eli."

At least she can joke about him. That has to mean something, right?

"In freshman and sophomore year," Carson continues, "no one dared cross me because of my brother. I walked around school like I was invincible, which I guess I sort of was. And then junior year rolled around and it was just me and a whole bunch of guys like those ones over there." He nudges his chin in the direction of Marcus's table. "Davey was trying to look out for me all those years, but he never taught me to do that for myself."

No wonder he has serious hang-ups about people doing things for him. Where Sam was teaching me to be tough in the most horrible of ways, Carson's brothers coddled him and never gave him the chance to hone his strengths. Now that he's trying to be his own man, it must be a real blow to his ego when he's treated like he's not.

People are complicated in ways I never considered. "I guess I owe you an apology."

To my surprise, Willow reaches out and smacks Carson on the head. He yelps, pressing a hand to the back of his head. "What the hell?"

"You're being a jerk, Carson," she chides. "When someone does something nice for you, you don't guilt trip them for it."

Now he looks genuinely sorry. "I wasn't trying to—"

"It's okay," I interrupt, hoping to spare us both further embarrassment. "Let's not lose focus. We have more important things to worry about."

I point to the countdown clock to indicate what I mean. Ten minutes left.

"I think we might have a bigger problem than that," Willow says, gesturing behind me.

Marcus is heading our way instead of over to his friends. Even though he's got my attention already, he lets out a shrill whistle that's every bit as obnoxious as he is. Then he cocks his finger at me, beckoning me over.

"Oh no," I say, groaning. Waiting for the countdown is bad enough, but now I have to bear his company, too?

"Tell him I'm freaking because of what's about to happen and you're trying to calm me down," Willow says as I get up. "And I might do something crazy if you leave me alone."

I pause. "How crazy?"

"I don't know, burst into tears? Throw food at people?"

"You could faint," Carson suggests.

"I think that'd just backfire on us," I say. "Marcus would rush over to make sure you weren't stealing the spotlight for yourself."

They both snicker, which makes the worry and tension melt from their faces and makes me feel better. "I might as well get this over with. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Marcus smiles when I go to him. He slings an arm across my shoulders and steers me toward his table. "Look lively, Rose. We don't want these people to wonder if were lying about swearing allegiance to me."

He smells of sweat and a musky scent that's entirely his. The beads of moisture on his face and neck indicate he came straight from the gym. Trying not to wrinkle my nose, I inch away until he drops his arm. "I'd prefer we forget yesterday ever happened," I say.

"I don't know. I like the memory of you on yourknees for me."

I turn to him with a glare. He's got on an innocent look, his eyebrows lifted like he couldn't possibly see what has me so upset. To my right is a full table. I feel its occupants looking at us. They're so quiet that I know they're listening, too.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

Don't let him bait you. "I'm fine. I just realized I need to use the bathroom."

"Bathroom's closed off. Pretty much everything is. I sent a few guys to keep everyone here until the clock runs out."

"There's something seriously wrong with not letting people go when they want to."

He shrugs. "There are a lot of things wrong with this place. Normal rules don't apply. What were you and the nerd pack whispering about anyway?"

There are some things I could never tell anyone, not even Willow and Carson. Like my personal life. It's not just because I don't want to air my family problems when I've spent my whole life keeping them under wraps, but because I don't know the consequence of talking.

If Sam really is involved, he'll be furious if I mention him.

But I can discuss our theories with Marcus. I doubt he'd believe me if I gave him anything less. "We think the Takers did something to us when we were kids."

Agitated murmurs erupt at the table next to us.

"What did they do?" a girl cries out.

"I don't know," I say, startled by their reaction. "We're not sure yet."

"She's kidding, folks. Calm down." Marcus places his hand on my back, maneuvering me past a few tables and over to a water fountain in a corner. He glances around and leans in close to me. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"You want mass hysteria on your hands? That's what you'll get if you start throwing around wacky conspiracy theories. I've worked hard to maintain law and order here. Don't screw everything up by being careless."

My face flushes. He makes me sound irresponsible. This coming from him. "I wasn't trying to screw anything up. They have a right to know."

"I'll be the judge of that." He lifts his eyebrows. "You follow me, remember?"

Follow him? His ego has no limits. "Whatever you say, Captain."

"I like it when you fall in line. Makes my life a whole lot easier."

I study the smile on his face. "You're in an unusually good mood."

"In exactly two minutes, we'll find out more about what we're doing in here. Better question is: why aren't you excited?"

Because I'm not a teenage boy who thinks this is all one big adventure.

"Wish I had a battering ram," he says. "We were in there all morning trying to break the door open. Why would they put a door there if we're not supposed to go through it?"

That's why he's sweaty; it's not because he was passing time fooling around on the basketball court. "If it's an exit, then you probably won't have much luck forcing it open. They'll let us out when they're ready."

"I don't believe in sitting on my hands and waiting for shit to happen." He grins at me. "And doors have been known to open for me."

I eye his strong profile, the lethal gleam in his dark eyes, unnerved by this cordial conversation. This must be what it's like to stand in the eye of a tornado: everything's calm and dead still, but one wrong move and I'll be torn apart.

I'm about to ask if I can return to my group when our bracelets start beeping.

The clock says 00:00:00. Even though I knew something was going to happen, my stomach drops like I've plunged myself from a cliff.

"You know the drill, people!" Marcus shouts, holding up his arms. "Get your ass up those stairs unless you want them coming for you, too."

So much for preventing mass hysteria. The ground shakes as countless pairs of white shoes thunder toward the stairway. I keep pace with the horde, feeling as panicked as I did that first night. These past few days have been an improvement because we've known what to expect. Now here we are again, clawing and pushing our way to the top in an angry, adulating mass of bodies. It so much worse than that first day because now we know what's at stake.

Nine beeps. The stairs tremble with the force of seven dozen pounding feet. Ten beeps. People cry out as they get slammed against the metal railing. I'm not surprised to see Marcus and the other bigger guys pushing their way to the top.

Fifteen. Eighteen.

Twenty-one.

I reach the landing and race toward the block. My feet cross the threshold on the twenty-second beep. Someone rushes into the block and brushes hard against my hip. I lean against the wall, breathing heavily, and do a head count of my block mates. We've all made it.

"Why isn't it stopping?" Carson manages, panting as hard as I am.

The door hasn't closed and the alarm is continuing, loud and incessant in the narrow hallway. I've lost track of how many beeps have gone by. The noise echoes from the other blocks; most of the kids in the blocks to our left and right are gathered around the entrances like we are, unsure of what to make of this.

I look down at my silver bracelet. "I think we're in the wrong place," I whisper.

Marcus watches me, the earlier carefreeness gone from his stony countenance. He's all business now. "What makes you say that?"

"Our bracelets tell us when it's time to leave or return to our blocks, don't they? If they're not turning off, that means we're supposed to be somewhere else."

"Where?" Alec asks.

I wipe my damp forehead. "I—I don't know. It can't be the cafeteria; we were just there."

"I don't think the kitchen and shower area are big enough to hold all of us," Camille says. She has both arms hooked around Alec's, holding onto him. He doesn't push her away.

"Gym," Marcus says.

He bolts out of the block. Alec yells for others to join us as we take off after him. Being in the lead gives us the advantage of not getting trampled this time. As we sprint across the cafeteria, I look back and glimpse Willow. She's a few feet behind Carson, caught in a tangle of people. I can't slow down and fill her in without either of us getting hurt, so I give her a reassuring nod and continue on.

Tense and alert, I fall to one side to one side of the gymnasium to let the others in and wait for the alarm to stop. It doesn't.

"Why are we in here?" a voice demands. Anything else the girl has to say is swallowed by the noise of almost a hundred teenagers. I press my hands to my ears to try to think through the madness, but I can't. Too much commotion, an angry buzzing in my ears.

"Shut up!" someone yells. No one listens to him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My breaths fall faster as I look around. There has to be a pattern to this, some way to make sense of it. Everything in the world depends on order. Red and yellow make orange. Mass remains constant despite changes to matter. Predators play a vital role in keeping populations under control. Sam tortured me most of my life because he's a sad, miserable failure of a human being. Simple answers that help us sleep easier at night.

What happens to us if there is no answer this time?

Through the hurdle around me, I see Marcus stride across the gym, a steady figure in the swarm of terrified people. He heads for the locked metal door. The one we haven't been able to open. One by one, the others look in his direction and a strange hush falls over us.

Goose bumps rise over my body as Marcus reaches for the door handle. He turns it and across the distance between us, I hear it click.

The door swings wide open and bright light illuminates his body.