"Is that what I think it is?" I say in disbelief.

He promised no one would get hurt. Said we were just sending a message. Letting people know of our existence.

"Lower your voice," Harry says just above a whisper. A non-answer.

I'm not sticking around if we're planting a bomb.

I've made it out of the city before. And last time I had a twisted ankle and didn't know where I was going. So, what's stopping me from leaving right now?

Only one thing: I need to stop Harry.

This is crazy.

Maybe, just maybe, I can convince him to abort the mission.

"If you hurt innocent people, you are no better than the Luddites!" I say, my voice coming out louder than I intend.

Harry grits his teeth.

"I said..." He steps towards me and, in a flash, pushes me up against the grimy wall of the alleyway, one forearm against my bound chest, his free hand covering my mouth. "Lower. Your. Voice."

His hand is salty against my lips, and in an animalistic rage I try to bite him and writhe out of his hold, pushing against him, kicking his chins.

"Calm down," he seethes.

But how can I calm down? He tricked me into coming with him. Bait and switch. I was fine with a little vandalism, but violence? That's not what I signed up for.

If the city catches us, they won't think twice before killing us.

I didn't even say goodbye to Marcy. Just told her I was going for a walk. That can't be the last exchange we have. The last time we see each other.

She's probably worried enough about where I am. About how I just disappeared. I need to make it up to her. Make this right. And I can't do that if I'm dead.

Thinking about her, how I left, makes bile rise in the back of my throat.

But Harry doesn't loosen his grip, and even though we're around the same height, he's much stronger than I am. With his years of testosterone and wider build, I don't have any chance of overpowering him.

"Calm down," he repeats, softer this time. "Listen, Charlie, we're not going to hurt anyone. It's a glitter bomb. The steps of the Choosing Day Center will be covered in pink glitter and confetti hearts. It's a message, not an attack. A message of love. Of loving yourself."

I can't tell if he is telling the truth, or if he's lying so I'll stop fighting against him. He's still wearing the glamor, and I can't read this stranger's steel-blue eyes.

But I saw the glitter on the workbench.

And I know he hates the Luddites. He called them crazy earlier.

So, even though I'm not sure whether to believe him, I nod, pushing the doubt in my mind to a corner.

"I'm going to move my hand, okay?" He raises his eyebrows. "Don't scream."

Harry steps back and I lean forward, hands on my knees, and spit onto the dirty ground. "You should fucking wash your hands more often."

He wipes his hands on his pants, then he holds out the device. The so-called glitter bomb.

It's a brown tube, plain and unmarked. One end looks to be taped off, while the other has some sort of device on it. Now that I'm looking more closely, maybe it's a timer. It has a dial that can be turned.

"Listen, here's the plan." His voice is level, almost as if the last few minutes didn't happen. "When I twist the bottom, it will give us approximately two minutes before it goes off. We're going to walk, as casually as possible, down the street. I'm going to drop it on the steps. As soon as we get to the corner, we find the next alley and hide."

"Hide?"

"I want to wait until it goes off. Make sure it works," he reasons.

"Have you ever made one of these things before?" I ask. It looks simple enough, but I still want to know.

Harry's eyes drop to the device in his hands, and he doesn't look at me when he answers. "I–I, well... no."

I swallow. He's not telling me something, and that worries me.

"Just glitter and hearts?" I repeat what he said earlier.

"Yes. A message of love."

"Okay," I say, taking a steadying breath. "After it goes off, then what?"

"I have sweatshirts for us to change into. That's step one." He pats the duffel. "Then I assume some people will start running. So we blend in with the crowd and make our way back to the car. Depending on how things go, we might need to find a place to lie low. But I'm not worried about that. Plenty of places in the city to hide."

He makes it sound simple. Easy.

I want to believe him.

Want to trust him.

Despite the knot forming in my gut, I nod. "Okay."

Harry zips up the duffel and shoulders it. Then, nodding to me, he steps forward and twists the bottom of the device.

No one notices as we walk out of the alleyway and re-join the flow of people on the sidewalk.

I think I hear the device ticking. Could it really be that loud? Or is it just my imagination?

My conscience?

As we walk by the steps, Harry lets go of the tube, just as we planned. It lands on one of the lower steps.

But a second later, a voice calls after us. "You dropped something!"

"Don't stop," Harry says, his voice tight, his eyes straight forward.

"Hey!" A hand reaches out, tapping Harry on the shoulder. "You really shouldn't litter."

Harry turns. His glamoured face meets the bright eyes of a young woman, her slick black hair hanging loose around her face. It's probably her Choosing Day.

"My bad," Harry says with a forced smile, accepting the tube.

Standing there, my heart pounds in my chest. I think I might puke.

"People work really hard to keep Dimstad clean. Have some pride in your city." She shakes her head and turns, walking away.

Frozen, I look around. Luckily, no one is staring at us.

But how long has it been since Harry twisted the tube? Are we about to be covered in glitter?

"Fuck," Harry mumbles.

"Twist it again," I whisper.

"Doesn't work like that." He takes a step away from me, then, quickly, tosses the device underhand towards the Choosing Day Center steps.

His movement is not subtle, and it catches several people's attention.

But I don't have time to react, because everything seems to happen at once.

When the tube lands, it explodes on impact. It's a spectacular noise, and my hands fly up to protect my ears.

Neon pink glitter sprays out of the main canister, but there's also fire, smoke, and...

My arm suddenly stings.

With ringing in my ears, I reach over, and when I pull my fingers away, there's blood.

Bright, red, and fresh.

People scream.

All around us. Hysterical shrieks. Cries.

I look at Harry. His face is as pale as a ghost.

It takes a second for it to register, but I'm looking at Harry's face. His face. Not a stranger's.

His glamor is off.

"Are you hurt?" I yell over the spreading chaos. Over the sounds of screeching tires, pounding feet, and voices begging for help. "Your glamor is gone."

Everything is going in slow-motion. Reality is stuttering. And bathes in sepia tones. But I try to focus on his face.

I don't see any visible injury. No gashes or blood. Maybe he just lost his concentration and that's why his disguise is gone.

Or maybe the explosion has somehow damaged his wearable tech.

I turn back to where the bomb detonated.

A body is on the ground. A pool of death growing larger around her body.

All I see is the back of her head. But that's all I need to see.

Her slick black hair.

The girl who caught us littering.

I scan the scene. The destruction we've caused.

A man is sitting on the steps, blood trickling from his head. A woman is doubled over and clenching her stomach. There are dozens of other people with soot on their faces and panic in their eyes.

One is racing towards us.

If he catches us, we're dead.

"We have to get outta here!" I scream, yanking on Harry's sleeve, staring at his exposed face, but he remains still.

"Fuck it," I mutter and run, leaving him behind.

Sirens go off in the distance.

That must knock Harry out of his stupor because a moment later he runs up next to me.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," he pants. "I swear."

Even though he's close, his voice sounds distant.

I believe him.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

But it did happen.

And now, I'll have to live with this forever. Nothing will ever be how it was before.

This is a change that can't be undone.