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Chapter Thirty-Three

Delaney

I woke up with a start sometime around mid-afternoon, drenched in sweat and breathing hard from some nightmare that I couldn’t remember. Abby glanced over at me, looking bored, then went back to staring mindlessly at the cartoon playing on the grainy television. Groaning, I pushed myself into a sitting position and blearily ran a hand through my hair.

"Have a nice nap?" Abby muttered.

"Lovely," I replied dryly. "What time is it?"

"Why don't you check the clock? You know, the one hanging on the wall right in front of your face?"

"Well, excuse me for asking a question," I snapped, rolling my eyes. But I glanced at the digital tablet clock anyway, finding that it was nearly six PM. I'd been asleep for over three hours (not that I had anything better to do.)

Just then, I noticed a strange emptiness in the room, and realized that Trai was absent from his usual spot ten feet away from me. I opened my mouth, pointing at his bed, but Abby responded before the question was even out of my mouth.

"He's in the bathroom," she said, not moving her eyes from the television screen.

I sighed and shook my head. "Is that really so interesting?"

"It's better than sitting in silence and waiting for our inevitable doom," she said evenly.

"We won't be doomed if"—I remembered the cameras and swiftly lowered my voice—"if Nessa's plan works."

"If it works." Turning up the television until its volume was nearly blasting, Abby turned to me. "Look, I don’t trust Miracle, but I don't trust Nessa, either. Something seems kind of…off about her plan. There's a lot she isn't telling us."

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course there are things she isn't telling us," I whispered. "We don't need to know every little detail about her plan. And anyway, I'm sure she'll fill us in later."

"I guess," Abby responded airily. "But the way I see it, she got her use out of us. Or you, that is. What does she need us for now?"

"I disagree," I stated, pushing up my glasses. "Abby, we have nothing to worry about. Nessa asked for our help; don't you think we owe her our trust? She seems reliable."

"Yeah, Delaney, she seemsreliable. And the Superiors seemed like a perfect government. You of all people should know by now that nothing is as it seems."

"She's trying to protect us," I argued.

"Please. I don't think she gives a damned care about our safety. If you were cooped up in the same building for a whole lifetime, wouldn't you want to get out, if given the chance? And wouldn't you do that by any means possible?"

I had no answer to that, because she was right. Nessa had seemed sincere, but we were obviously not her priorities. We were just a group of stupid kids who happened to give her the perfect opportunity for escape.

Knowing that she had proven her point, Abby lowered the volume on the television. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and tilted her head up to the ceiling, as if basking in the light of an invisible sun.

"Think about that," she said.

○●○●○●○

And that's exactly what I did. It was another few hours before Nessa came in again, this time with our dinner, and I spent all that time thinking. What Abby had said made sense, though I had to admit it grudgingly. I didn't want her to be right, though, because it would mean that there was no one truly on our side in the entire Capitol. And how could Nessa, who was so kind and protective of us, see me as nothing more than a pawn? What was she, Carlie?

"No, she's not," I said aloud, the realization dawning on me. Abby gave me a funny look, which I ignored. Nessa was me. The faceless Loser, the vengeful outcast. The one who most people didn't notice. Miracle was the queen bee, the Carlie. The Capitol was nothing but a giant replica of high school Popularity. There were the Populars, the Losers, the animosity, the relationships... it was much more convoluted and complex, but the idea was the same.

How immature, I thought. These were adults, or at least, they're supposed to be. But they were acting like children. They had a hard time controlling their anger. On one hand, that was a dangerous trait. It made them unpredictable. But on the other hand...

"Hey, what do you think happened to Ms. Shea?" Abby wondered suddenly. I blinked, my train of thought interrupted and forgotten.

"Hm?"

"Ms. Shea," she repeated. "I'm wondering what happened to her."

I thought back to the cells, and my tapped out conversation with her on the stone wall. She could still be there, for all we knew. She could have been moved to another cell. Or, she could have been—but I didn't want to consider the alternative.

"Yeah, I've been wondering that too," I said quietly. "But why do you ask?"

Abby shrugged. "I was just thinking. What happens after all this; that is, assuming it works? What happens to everyone else, and Ms. Shea, wherever she is?" I could see she was trying to keep her words vague.

"I don't know," I murmured. "But I hope Ms. Shea is alright."

Abby stared at the wall impassively. "I'm sure she's fine. Ms. Shea is tough. She wouldn't let Miracle bring her down." But it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as me.

Caleb

A woman named Nessa came in to see me later that evening, just as Perfecta predicted. I'd spent the day turning over her name in my mind, trying to remember who she was, but couldn't come up with anything solid. Even seeing her face triggered nothing but fluttering thoughts that hung just out of reach. Now that I knew that there was more to my memories than my life in the Capitol, it was frustrating. Every familiar face I saw had a deeper connection to me, but I simply couldn't figure out what it was, even when I focused as much as I could.

"Hello, Caleb," Nessa said, when she entered my room. I knew her identity immediately, but everything else was blankness. I could only stare emptily at her from my seat at the little table near the window. She sank down across from me, looking anxious.

"I'm sorry, Nessa" I muttered, looking down. "I wish I could remember who you are, but I can't. All I know is that you're good. There's not much else I can say."

"I don't expect you to remember," she said gently. "For now, I just need you to listen. I understand that Perfecta has already told you some things, but I'm going to try to fill the important gaps in your memory. We're going to need your help very soon."

"All right," I conceded warily, wondering who 'we' was, and what 'help' they needed.

"Perfecta told you about your brother, right?"

"Briefly. But I still don't think that I—"

"Good," Nessa said briskly, ignoring me. "His real name is Christopher, and he was Chosen two years ago. You know what the Choosing is, right?"

I nodded. That was one thing I knew, mainly because the ceremony for the Chosen candidates was to be held that Saturday, on the first of June. It was only three days away.

"When he came, it was as if a celebrity had just arrived in the Capitol. Miracle had been watching him for months before the Choosing, and everyone knew his name well before he was even formally Chosen. And when he arrived here, he was well accepted. In fact, the kid was practically royalty. His girlfriend, however, was another story."

"Dyanne," I murmured absently. "She was pretty." It wasn't until I noticed Nessa's shocked expression that I realized what had just happened. "Dyanne."

As I repeated her name, I realized that I remembered her. I could suddenly see her pretty face, with her long black hair and sparkling dark eyes. And when I concentrated harder, I saw a guy beside her; though the memory was fuzzy, the figure was unmistakably a younger form of Champion. A sudden thought filtered into my mind. He was everything I wanted to be, she was everything I wanted to have.

"I remember her, Nessa," I breathed in disbelief.

When I looked up at her, she was smiling tightly. "The memory wiping procedure has gaps in it," she explained. "Often smaller memories are overlooked, and you might be able to get pieces of them."

I was still in awe of the memory, completely unaware that Nessa had more to say until she cleared her throat pointedly.

"Anyway," she continued, once she had my attention again, "Dyanne was not nearly as popular here as Caleb was. In fact, to Miracle, she was nothing but competition."

"Competition?" I echoed, not understanding.

Nessa sighed. "Miracle has her priorities in everything she does. And when she saw your brother, she wanted him immediately. He was her first priority. But as long as Dyanne was there, she couldn't make a move. So she orchestrated an accident. It was very sudden, but only two days after arriving in the Capitol, Dyanne 'accidentally' fell from the third floor balcony and snapped her neck. Christopher—ah, Champion—was devastated, and Miracle immediately swooped in to comfort him. And the rest is history."

I'm sure how to explain the tangled emotions that coursed through me at Nessa's revelation. On one hand, there was disgust at Miracle's possessive cruelty. In all my hazy memories of her, she was a kind, just person. But at the same time, I felt an undeniable stab of jealousy. I'd thought that Miracle was interested in me, not a brother I didn't know I had.

"Why him?" I asked finally, trying hard to keep the venom out of my voice. Nessa hesitated before answering, and when she did, she spoke very quietly.

"Every once in a while, there are ordinary people who are, well, extraordinary. They surpass others in every way. They're Superior, in the most literal sense of the word, and they're always the ones who are Chosen. They're the once who become Miracle's top advisers. Your brother was one of those people." She looked me in the eye. "And, as far as Miracle is concerned, so are you."

"Me?" I was surprised; I didn't feel special, save for the clarity in my focus and the electric buzz running through my veins.

Nessa nodded. "She's taken a particular interest in you," she told me. "See, before you came here, you were against the Superiors, and even posted a video that exposed their secrets. And she found that intriguing."

I heard a sharp intake of breath and realized it had come from me. I couldn't imagine myself being against the Superiors. Yet at the same time, that struck a familiar thought in my mind. As Nessa continued, I floundered, grasping for the memory before it could escape me.

"Miracle was fascinated with you. Here you were, a Popular with a perfect life, a beautiful girlfriend, and a sure shot at being Chosen, yet resisting every bit of it. When you were brought to the Capitol on charges of heresy, she easily could have prosecuted you. But she wanted to conform you to her views, make you a dedicated Superior. She saw you as a challenge. And she loves challenges."

"But—" I paused, organizing my thoughts. "But I have these memories of her—wait, no, not memories. More like...feelings? Anyway, whenever I think of her, only good things come to mind. There's nothing bad about her, nothing cruel or cold."

"That's more memory tweaking at work," Nessa said. "When Leary messed with your long-term memories, he also infused emotions of adoration toward Miracle, rooted deeply in your brain so that they wouldn't seem false in any way."

I blinked slowly, my hands freezing in their absent tap on the wooden table. "Dr. Leary? The doctor who saved me from the accident?"

"Except that there was no accident, Caleb. Leary didn't help you: he turned you into a Superior and messed with your mind."

"Right," I said slowly, though an unshakable chill suddenly settled over me.

"But you will get your revenge," Nessa promised, "because at this very moment, we are planning the Superiors' demise."

○●○●○●○

"So, you're a member of a group called the Pro-Inferiors?" I asked, once Nessa had finished explaining her position. "And they're planning a rebellion against the Superiors?" Something about the name of the rebel organization triggered another familiar thought, undoubtedly connected to the one I'd felt before.

"Precisely," Nessa confirmed.

"And you said earlier that you needed my help?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding, "we do. Most likely, Miracle will be keeping a close eye on you for the next couple of days. Your job is to ingratiate yourself with her, as well as her inner circle of Superiors. Get them to trust you, or at least tolerate you. With Miracle, try flattery; she responds well to that."

I frowned. "And what's the point?"

"We need someone close to Miracle to make sure she doesn't become suspicious, if she isn't already. She might question you about Perfecta and I, but don't give her any information about the rebellion. On the day of the Ceremony, when our plan is executed, her trust in you will come in handy."

"Are you going to tell me this plan?"

Nessa shook her head. "Not quite yet. This isn't the time nor place for that. Soon, though. For now, though, try to spend as much time with Miracle as possible. She won't be letting you out of her sight; don't let her out of yours, either."

I was ashamed at how attractive that idea was, and made sure to show nothing on my face. From Nessa's expression, I could tell that she thought hanging around Miracle was a form of punishment. But despite what Nessa had revealed to me, I couldn't shake the admiration I felt toward Miracle. I wasn't at all bothered by the thought of spending the next few days in her company.

Nessa was standing up, getting ready to go, and saying something about talking later to explain the plan. I suddenly thought of the security camera center, and wondered how she could be comfortable with talking about those matters so openly. If a single minute of our conversation had been recorded, both of us would be in deep trouble. But when I asked her about it, Nessa merely shrugged.

"Perfecta will take care of it," she said, approaching the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going. I managed to get my hands on one of Miracle's laptops." The woman smirked. "I have some hacking to do."

It was that word—hacking—that pushed the final piece into the puzzled memory in my mind. A name floated into my thoughts, one that sounded familiar as it echoed through my head.

"Nessa," I said suddenly, just as she was placing her hand on the doorknob. "Did I ever know someone named Delaney?" As the name rolled off my tongue, I realized that I was accustomed to saying it; it was as if I had used the word a thousand times before.

Nessa slowly looked over her shoulder, her expression strangely twisted. A muscle jumped in her cheek, but she quickly smoothed it into a bemused smile.

"No, Caleb," she replied, oddly serious. "You've never known anyone named Delaney."