It hurts both of us.

I knew it would.

“I can’t be a part of this,” he says. “I can’t announce you tonight. But you can keep everything. The locks and the keys. The fish. The coin.”

“Thank you,” I say again. “Will you be watching in the stands?” I want to see him one more time. It is the most I have wanted anything besides finding my sister and going Above. It is hard to say the words.

“I can’t be a part of this,” he says again.

“You are a part of this,” I say.

“I know,” he says. And then he leaves, walking fast, because he has nothing left to carry. He’s given it all to me.

Standing in the dappled light of the stall, I fight back the tears. Crying is dangerous. Crying reveals too much. I have everything I need. I have the fish and the locks and the costume and the key. I have the insignia. And I have money.

I will spend it all now. I have the coin True gave me and the other money, too, worn in the bag with my air mask on my back. I will buy the air I need and hide it in my room at the temple. Then I’ll be ready to go at any time, as soon as someone dies.

I know it’s wrong, but I hope it happens quickly.

There is no longer any reason for me to stay.

When I tell Ennio what Maire said, and when I say the name Asha to him, he turns pale. Without speaking he takes the money and gives me an air tank, heavy and made of ancient-looking metal. He rolls it up neatly in a cloth so that it appears to be a bulky but uninteresting, unspecific bundle.

“It works exactly like the air masks for the drills,” he says. “You’re familiar with those. Attach the mask and breathe the same way. But this one will last longer. And it’s pressurized for an ascent.”

“How do you know that?” I ask. “If no one’s ever made it to the surface?”

“I found an old cache of air,” he says. “From when they were building Atlantia. Sometimes they had to work out in the water. Sometimes they had to go up.”

This sounds far from safe. And it’s going to be hard to speak while I’m wearing the mask attached to the air tank. How will I let the words out without letting the water in?

Am I trying to do something impossible? Am I crazy?

I’ve never known if what they say is true, if I’m broken and strange, or if I just belong somewhere else and, if I can get there, I will finally feel right.

That’s what I’ve hoped for all my life.

“Go,” Ennio says. “And don’t come back.” He says that in a nice way, like he means for me to escape instead of die, and so I leave without another word. On my way out of the deepmarket, the bundle heavy on my back, I walk past my mother’s ring. People have gathered around it.

In spite of everything, she can still draw a crowd.

Hopefully, tonight, so will I.

I hide the air tank in my room with the fish and the locks and the last of the money. I’ll win more tonight, but I plan to give all of that to True to pay him back. Then he can buy more supplies and a stall in the deepmarket. Perhaps someday, without me asking for help with other things, he will find a way to make the mechanical bats stay aloft. I wish I could see that.

I glance over at Bay’s and Maire’s shells, but I resist the temptation to try to listen to one or to ask questions of the other. I’ve decided to trust myself and True, and I don’t want any doubt to creep in.

As I ride the gondola down to work, the sounds of Atlantia breathing press in on me, becoming louder and louder. No one else seems to notice.

And when I come into the workplace, the breathing becomes screaming.

I resist the urge to press my hands against the sides of my head to block out the sound. Again, no one else seems to notice it. I look around the room and see Bien watching me. Does she hear it?

Why is Atlantia screaming? Or is it the sirens? Has Maire driven me mad? She said she was trying to help me. Was she trying to break me instead?

And then everyone else looks up, and some of them reach to cover their ears. But it’s not the screaming they’ve noticed—it’s a new sound. The shrill whistle signifying a breach drill sounds down the halls and into our workroom.

Everyone reaches for their air masks, and I reach for mine, but it isn’t there.

In the excitement of everything—True giving me the money, buying the air tank, preparing for tonight—I forgot to bring it with me. I took it off at home and left it with my other things.

I’ve neglected to bring my mask before—we all have—but never during a drill. This will result in a reprimand, certainly, and perhaps more. I swear under my breath. I don’t want anything to mess up tonight.

Bien pulls on her mask and so do the other workers. I hear them breathing as they start their oxygen. A girl near me shudders as she gets ready to seal the mask shut. “I hate this,” she mutters to her friend.

And then she notices me. “No mask?” she asks.

“I forgot it,” I say, and her eyes widen.

“Uh-oh,” she says. “You could have gotten away with it if it weren’t for the drill.”

I know. My timing is terrible. At least the sound of the whistle drowns out the screaming in the walls for now.

I seem to be the only one in the ocean room who didn’t remember to bring a mask today. I suppose the water outside the portal is a constant reminder of how close we are to being unable to breathe.

Emergency procedure apparently dictates that the workers should file into the sky room, because that’s what everyone does. I’m glad. I look for Elinor, walk toward her.

Josiah rushes into the room, mask already in place, and surveys us. His eyes stop on me.

“I need a spare mask,” I say.

He nods. There are always a few on hand in every building, even though we’re supposed to carry our own. He leaves the room to find one for me.

It’s strange not to have mine on, but mostly I’m glad. I don’t have to pretend to breathe the air. And it’s funny to hear the other workers talking to one another through the masks in monotone, depersonalized voices. I’ve always wondered if this is what I sound like to everyone else.

After a few more minutes, the door flies open and Josiah comes back inside. “I haven’t found one yet,” he says. “The closet was empty.”

“It’s all right,” I say. “It’s my own fault.”