MY BROTHERS ARE still sleeping in their room when my father wakes me from a fitful sleep. I slip on a pair of tan leggings and a light blue cap-sleeve tunic, pull on my boots, and grab my bag. My mother holds a cup of milk for me to drink. Her eyes are red, but she isn't crying now. She tells me she's proud of me. I do my best not to cling to her as we hug goodbye. Suddenly, I am sorry for all the times I was angry at her for not encouraging my dreams of attending the University. Now I understand why she was scared for me to succeed. Now it is too late.

 

Fighting back tears, I drink my milk, take the apple Mom has waiting for me on the counter, and promise to write when I get to the city. My father waits at the door, and I give my mother one last hug before walking out into the moist morning air. The sky is still dark as we follow the same path we took yesterday. We walk about a mile before Dad breaks the silence.

 "Did you get any sleep?" "Some." Interspersed with anxious dreams.

"More than likely, Flint is right. The dreams are just dreams."

 

"I hope so."

 

"So do I." He laces his fingers through mine as we trek uphill. "You're smart. You're strong. I have every faith you'll pass whatever test they give you. Just don't let the other candidates psych you out. Some of the kids from my colony were vicious. They'd do anything to be number one."

 

"Like what?" Staying up all night to study was common in my class. I'd done it a few times myself.

 

"Poison was a favorite tactic of a couple of the girls in my class."

 

I stop walking. "Poison?"

 

"Not enough to kill. Just enough to make someone too sick to sit for a test. By my final year, I was careful to eat only what I brought with me to school."

 

"Were they punished?"

 

My father gives me a sad smile. "They were smart enough not to get caught. But even if they had been, I doubt they would have gotten more than a reprimand. It's hard to punish kids for trying to pull their family out of poverty."

 

We walk the next few miles without talking as I consider the implications of my father's words. I can tell myself there's no proof my father's dreams are real. But this . . . I can't think of a single student in the Five Lakes Colony school who would sabotage a fellow student in order to get a better grade. None of us are rich, but no one I know is starving, either. Not anymore. If a family is struggling in Five Lakes, the rest of the commu nity pitches in to help. A world where you might poison the competition in order to feed your family is inconceivable to me.

 

Slashes of pink and purple light the sky as we approach the outskirts of town. Dad puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me close. "Make sure you eat right and get enough sleep. That's going to help you stay strong and think clearly."

 

I nod at the familiar words.

 

Just before we finish climbing the last hill he adds, "Be careful who you trust, Cia. You do that and everything will be okay."

 

Hand in hand, we walk into the square.

 

In front of the magistrate's house is an enormous black skimmer with the seal of the Commonwealth stamped on the side. Tomas, Malachi, and members of their families are standing near the back of it. Malachi is wearing his best clothes — stiffly pressed pants, polished black shoes, and a jacket over a collared shirt. The bright white of Malachi's shirt is in vivid contrast with his dark skin, and from the hunch of his shoulders I can tell he is fighting back tears. Tomas's clothing choice is more like mine. Faded gray pants and a white V-neck shirt make Tomas look like he is preparing to work on his father's farm instead of traveling to Tosu City. His handsome face is unreadable as his mother fusses over his unruly hair.

 

Magistrate Owens and the Tosu official are standing near the front of the skimmer and wave as Dad and I approach. Today, official Michal Gallen is wearing a fitted purple jumpsuit, also stamped with the Commonwealth logo. His shaggy hair is slicked back into a ponytail, giving the angles of his face more definition.

 

Magistrate Owens pulls my father to the side, leaving me alone with official Gallen. He smiles at me, and I'm surprised to see warmth for the first time in his deep green eyes.

 

"Are you nervous about the trip, Malencia?"

 

For some reason I don't expect him to remember my name. That he does pleases me. "I'm more nervous that I'll disappoint the colony by not doing well on the tests, Mr. Gallen."

 

He laughs. "Call me Michal. And don't worry. That'll pass."

 

My nerves or caring about the colony? I don't get the chance to ask because he pushes off the vehicle and holds out his hand. "Can I stow your bag? You won't need it until we get to Tosu City." In his other hand is a transparent bag containing two thick silver bands — one larger than the other. "This is your identification bracelet. Each Testing candidate is assigned an identifying symbol that is engraved on the bracelet. You'll wear this one and the smaller band will wrap around the strap on your bag. That way no one can confuse their bag with yours."

 

He snaps the clasp of the identification band onto my left wrist and affixes the other to my bag. Once he disappears into the skimmer, I study the bracelet. It is about an inch wide and is constructed of thick metal segments. I know the bracelet has a clasp, but the fastening is impossible to distinguish from the other links. Turning my wrist, I study the large silver disk attached to the top of the bracelet. Etched in black on the disk is an eight-pointed star. In the center of the star is a stylized lightning bolt.

 

"The star represents your Testing group." I jump at Michal's voice. I hadn't realized he'd returned. "You'll find other kids with the same symbol on their bracelet, but yours will be the only one with a lightning bolt."

 

"Do the symbols mean something specific?" The words slip past my lips before I can take them back. Maybe kids from other colonies who always have Testing candidates know what the symbols mean.

 

If he thinks the question is silly, Michal doesn't show it. "The eight-pointed star is the symbol for rejuvenation. The kids in that group show aptitude in a lot of different areas. It's a pretty good group to be in." His smile is warm and encouraging, and I find myself smiling back and wondering what group he was in.

 

A small beeping sound prompts Michal to look down at his watch. He looks around the square, and his smile fades. Zandri still isn't here, and I wonder if this is just her casual attention to time or if she has chosen to challenge the laws and refuse her place at The Testing. Does she believe laws so long untested will not be enforced?

 

Michal excuses himself and huddles with Magistrate Owens and my father. From the way Michal is pointing to his watch, he believes the time for Zandri to arrive has come and gone. My father and Magistrate Owens argue with Michal over giving Zandri more time. I turn away and hold my breath, knowing what the punishment might be. And I see her. I squint into the sunlight to be certain before yelling, "She's here."

 

"Thank God," I hear someone whisper.

 

The wind teases Zandri's gauzy multicolored skirt and peasant blouse as she strolls unhurried through the square. Her long blond hair glistens in the sunlight. A small smile tugs at her lips as she reaches us. She offers no apologies. And I know. She's planned this entrance. She's showing that while she can be required to perform, she cannot be controlled. While I admire her guts, the annoyed look in Michal's eyes makes me worry for her.

 

My father puts his arm around me as Michal gives Zandri her identification bracelets, and stows her bag in the skimmer. Gone is his warm manner as he instructs us all to get into the vehicle. It is time to go.

 

The swirl of emotions I've been holding at bay hits me full force as my father pulls me into a tight embrace. Tears threaten to choke me as I tell him I love him. I push aside the hurt that Zeen didn't say goodbye and ask my father to give Zeen my note and the entire family my love. My father tells me he loves me, too, and reminds me in one last whisper, "Cia, trust no one."

 

I am the last one to climb into the sleek skimmer. The door closes behind me. I hear the locks engage as the engine roars to life. My father puts his hand on the porthole glass, and I lift mine to mirror it. Our eyes meet for a moment, and one tear escapes my resolve as the skimmer begins to rise. Dad steps back from the skimmer, and a moment later we are moving forward — out of the square, toward Tosu City — away from anything familiar.

 

My heart races with excitement even as it is torn in two. I can see the same conflicting emotions on the faces of the other Five Lakes Testing candidates. Our graduation ceremony changed our status from adolescent to adult, but this journey makes it official. We are on our own.

 

I stare out the window until the last familiar sights fade into the horizon. I store up the memories of the fields and the hills for the days and maybe years to come. Then I turn and take in my new surroundings. My father and his staff have a couple of skimmers they use for work, so I've ridden in one before. But my father's vehicles are not as sophisticated or as fast as this. In fact, aside from the name and the fact that they hover several feet over the earth, the vehicles are nothing alike. Where the greenhouse skimmers are small and seat between one and four people, and only that if you squeeze, this one could seat twelve passengers in comfort. The couchlike seats that line the front of the passenger compartment are gray and soft. In the back of the vehicle is a small kitchen and a door that leads to another compartment. The roof of the skimmer is tall enough that I can walk around the cabin with room to spare.

 

I don't see our bags and consider asking Michal where he stowed them, but he is seated in a separate driver's compartment up front. From the set of his shoulders I'd say he's busy concentrating on driving. Which is good. While skimmers are designed to hover up to fifteen feet above the ground, the propulsion mechanism that makes the vehicle run requires there actually be ground somewhere underneath. If a skimmer travels over a large hole, it will stop gliding. Skimmers also have trouble over water, which is why someone adapted them to float if necessary.

 

"I've never ridden in anything like this before," Malachi says from across the cabin. His wide eyes are filled with anxiety. His father is an irrigation worker. His mother makes quilts. No, Malachi never would have had cause to ride on anything more sophisticated than a bicycle. Until now. I cock my head to the side to get a better view of the symbol on his bracelet. A triangle with an arrow in the middle. We are not in the same group.

 

"I think it's safe to say none of us have ridden in anything quite like this." Tomas gets up from his seat in the back and crosses over to sit next to Malachi. "At the rate we're going, we'll be in Tosu City before dark."

 

"You think so?" Some of the fear fades from Malachi's eyes. "Do you think they'll let us look around the city?"

 

"Probably not until after we're done with Testing. It sounds like they're going to have us on a pretty tight schedule." Tomas flashes a smile and claps Malachi on the back. "But once we're University students we'll have the run of the place and the girls. Right?"

 

Malachi smiles back. "Right."

 

"Some of us don't find University pedigrees attractive." Zandri tosses her blond mane and gives them both a look of disgust. Malachi shrinks back into the cushions. Tomas just laughs. After a bit of encouragement, he gets Malachi to talk about pictures they've seen of Tosu City, where some buildings are more than ten stories high. Eventually Zandri stops sulking and discusses the sculptures she's hoping to see.

 

I listen to the three of them chat, not surprised that it is Tomas who puts everyone at ease. As always, I'm very aware of being the youngest — and the least experienced. In class, I made sure to raise my hand only if I was certain of the answer so I would never look as though I didn't belong. Now, like in class, I hold back and listen. Tall, blond, and beautiful, Zandri exudes a prickly confidence, but her defensive posture softens when she talks art with Malachi. I'm surprised at the extent of his knowledge of artists long dead.

 

Now that Malachi and Zandri are filling the silence, Tomas sits back and only adds the occasional comment. He, too, is observing — weighing their laughter and their silences. Tomas notices me watching. Quickly, I look away as my cheeks burn. Not that Tomas isn't used to being looked at. Most girls in our class would spend the entire school day watching him instead of the blackboard. Since his assigned seat was directly behind mine, I never had the distraction. But I'd have to be blind not to notice the way laughter and the single dimple in his left cheek transform his angular face. More than once my fingers have itched to brush back the lock of hair that always falls across his forehead. Not that I'd ever have the courage to try. Which is okay. Boys and dating haven't been on my priority list. And they certainly can't be now.

 

The trio across the way laughs at something. Shrugging off feelings of being left out, I smile at the group and try to look interested in their chatter. After a while, Zandri and Malachi admit they didn't sleep well the night before. They stretch out on the cushioned benches in the front of the passenger compartment and are out almost immediately.

 

"Let's move to the back so we don't disturb them," Tomas whispers. My heart skips a little as I follow his lead. Tomas's first order of business is to explore the back of the cabin. I'm happy to open cabinet doors — which contain nuts, dried fruit, cheese, and crackers — and poke into the closet, which turns out to be a bathroom.

 

We grab a bag of dried fruit and some water and stretch out in the back. Tomas turns an apple chip over in his strong, calloused hands and says, "It's hard to believe they selected four of us this year."

 

I notice his bracelet design — an eight-pointed star with three wavy horizontal lines. My group. My surprise and worry must show because Tomas asks what's wrong. I explain about the identification symbols. Then, since Malachi and Zandri are both snoring, I decide to be completely honest. "You're going to blow everyone in our group away. Me included."

 

"Are you kidding?" Tomas's clear gray eyes sweep over my face. After a minute he laughs and shakes his head. "You really aren't joking."

 

"Everyone knows you were first in our class."

 

"Only because the teacher wasn't around last year. She doesn't know you built the wind and solar generators we use at school."

 

"My brothers helped." The achievement wasn't mine alone. I wouldn't have been able to do it without them. "My father says the irrigation system you designed is going to help revitalize areas outside our borders. That's huge."

 

He shrugs. "My father had been working on it for years. I just helped brainstorm a few ideas and set the thing up. I'm not saying I wasn't important, but I wasn't the genius Ms. Jorghen made me out to be. I got the impression she thought Five Lakes students were simple-minded. You know, since no one had been chosen for The Testing in years. My report on the new irrigation system during the first week of class made an impression."

 

Tomas is right about our teacher's preconceived ideas of Five Lakes Colony. For the first few days of the new school year every word she spoke was slow and deliberate. She sounded like she was talking to a group of four-year-olds. Then she gave us a "How I spent my break" assignment and everything changed. Ms. Jorghen's face never showed surprise, but the assignments got harder and she stopped talking in one-syllable words. Thinking about it now makes me wonder if my dad was right. If our old teacher misdirected the Commonwealth into thinking we weren't bright enough to be leaders. And if so, why would she do such a thing? Because she hated to see families separated or because she truly believed something sinister would be lurking for us on the other end of our journey?

 

"What's wrong?"

 

I blink. "What do you mean?" His raised eyebrow says my innocent act isn't fooling him. So I ask, "Don't you think it's strange that Five Lakes didn't have a Testing candidate for ten years?"

 

He pops a raisin into his mouth and considers the question. "The only thing I can figure is the Commonwealth government must have thought our population was too small to justify removing citizens. Five Lakes has grown a lot in the past ten years."

 

About 350 citizens have moved into Five Lakes in the last decade. That doesn't seem like a lot considering other colonies have tens of thousands of citizens.

 

"You think there's another reason?"

 

I want to tell him what my father suspected — share the burden. Know that another pair of eyes will be on the watch for signs of danger. But my father's parting words ring loud in my head. If it were just Tomas and me, I might ignore the warning, but we aren't alone. So instead I say, "Seems like there should be. Don't you think?"

 

"If you figure out what it is, please let me know so I can tell my brother. He's feeling put out that I made it and he never did."

 

"I know the feeling. Zeen is upset, too."

 

He smiles at me, flashing the dimple. For the next hour we talk about our friends. Our families. The things we'll miss in Five Lakes. The things we hope to accomplish if we make it to the University. I'm surprised to hear he wants to go into land revitalization like my father. I thought he would look for something more glamorous. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Despite his good looks and outgoing personality, Tomas has always been a quiet leader. He is always happy to help a neighbor or one of the younger students, and he does it in a way that does not ask for praise or payment in return. He's someone my father would be proud to have on his team.

 

We finish the bag of dried fruit and are both still hungry. Tomas grabs a box of crackers and starts to open them when Michal yells back, "We're going to stop for lunch in a few minutes. You might want to wake up your friends."

 

No need. Michal's voice is loud enough to do it for us.

 

As Zandri and Malachi stretch and try to get their bearings, I wonder how Michal knew Tomas had grabbed the crackers. The timing was too perfect for it to be coincidence. Tomas doesn't seem concerned. He just stows the box back in a cabinet and walks through the cabin to chat with the others. But his back had been toward the driver's compartment. He probably assumed Michal had looked back and saw him take the crackers. Only, I know Michal hadn't. His head never turned. So how did he know?

 

There. In the corner of the cabin is a round glint of glass. A camera lens? I scan the rest of the passenger cabin. There aren't any others, which makes me certain I am right.

 

We are being watched. By Michal or does this camera broadcast farther? Has The Testing already begun? I shiver at the thought of my face being seen on some unknown television. We don't have much use for televisions in Five Lakes. The magistrate has one. So does my father's work and a few other select locations. Rarely are they used. Clearly they are not used so sparingly outside of my colony.

 

I move to the front of the cabin, feeling the camera following my every move. Does it also hear my words? If I had a chance to inspect the camera, I'd be able to tell. But I don't dare. I decide it's safer to assume it does and stare out the window in an effort to keep my discovery secret from whoever is watching.

 

The brown and cracked landscape we've been traveling over is transitioning to healthier, greener terrain. From several feet above, I can see the soil is also richer. Blacker. The signs of revitalization. The work of another colony. I move forward in the cabin to stand behind the driver's compartment. Sure enough. Far on the horizon are buildings. Some of them are tall. Much taller than those at home. I wonder what colony is ahead and realize I must have asked the question aloud when Michal answers, "That's Ames Colony. We'll stop at the outskirts and have lunch. The Testing committee arranged for it to be delivered to an outpost for us."

 

"We won't get to see the colony?"

 

He shoots me a smile. "You'll see it someday. Right now the Testing committee is keeping you contained so you aren't in fluenced by outside sources. Now you'd better sit down so you don't fall over when I stop this thing."

 

I return to the passenger cabin, take a seat, and relate Michal's words to the others — all while feeling eyes watching from somewhere behind a screen. The camera and the knowledge that my movements are being restricted makes my head throb and my shoulder muscles tense. The passing of scenery slows. After a few minutes the skimmer lowers and jolts to a stop, pitching Malachi to the floor.

 

"Sorry about that," Michal says, climbing from the driver's compartment. "I'm still getting the hang of landing this beast. They had to put new brakes on a couple of days ago, which makes it a little temperamental." He holds out a hand to help Malachi scramble to his feet. Then he hits a button and the skimmer door opens.

 

Warm air and the smell of fresh greenery beckon as Michal climbs out, followed by the rest of us. A small, squat log cabin sits about fifty feet in front of us. Surrounding the building are evergreen trees, hearty bushes, and lots of tall, flowering grasses. It's hard to believe dry, decayed earth is just over the horizon. Whoever cared for the land here did their job well.

 

We follow Michal down a concrete path to the wooden building. Inside is a small kitchen equipped with a table and five chairs. A small bathroom sits off the kitchen. The entire space is probably fourteen feet square and smells of roasting meat, garlic, and vegetables. There is also a large loaf of bread and a block of cheese sitting under a large glass dome on the counter. The air inside is chilly, and Michal warns us not to leave the windows or doors open or we'll upset the controlled temperature.

 

One by one we use the bathroom and wash our hands and faces. I opt to go last and wander around the room, pretending to admire the curtains at the windows. I spot the first camera in the light hanging over the large wooden table. The second is in the upper right corner of the kitchen. If there are more, I can't find them. Seeing the two is enough to take the pleasure from the meal. Still, knowing my every moment is most likely being judged, I eat the stew. I smile. I do my best to laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Michal watching me with an eyebrow raised. He glances up at the camera, then back at me, and smiles.

 

He knows that I know.

 

I shove a large piece of bread into my mouth so I have to chew instead of talk, which gives me time to think. Michal's smile was pleased. Proud. As though I had been given a difficult assignment and aced it.

 

He wants me to know.

 

I'm certain of it. That's why he told us about stopping for lunch when Tomas grabbed the crackers. Sure, it could be chalked up to a mistake. Michal is younger than any other Tosu officials I've seen. Still, he wouldn't have passed The Testing, graduated from the University, or been given this job if he made those kinds of careless errors. Is picking up on Michal's behavior and what it implies part of the test, or is Michal offering me an edge?

 

Michal opens a cabinet and returns with a heaping plate of cookies. They look like the cookies my mother made for my graduation celebration. Seeing the reminder of home tugs at my heart. The others grab for the unexpected treat. I push back my chair and ask if I can take a walk. "I promise I'll stay in sight. I just want to stretch my legs for a little while before getting back inside the skimmer."

 

"I don't see why not." He glances at his watch. "We have thirty minutes before we're scheduled to leave. Does anyone else want to go?"

 

When no one hops to their feet, I snag a cookie off the table, head for the door, and step into the sunlight. The air is warm and wonderful. Better yet is the feeling of being free. No cameras. No judging. No worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing that might result in my failure. Knowing what I'm headed for, I vow to enjoy this one last moment of freedom. To store up the sweetness of it to keep me calm and steady through the weeks ahead.

 

I spot a grove of evergreen trees off to my right and head toward them. The tall grass brushes against my hips as I trek across the thriving ground. I enjoy the crumbly sweetness of the cookie as the trees grow closer.

 

"Cia, wait up."

 

Turning, I squint into the bright sunlight and hold my hand above my eyes. I'm surprised to see how far I've come in such a short time. The building that played host to lunch is at least one hundred yards away. Much closer is Tomas, who is moving fast through the tall grass. The idea of sharing my last few minutes of unobserved freedom makes me want to yell for him to turn back. And yet — these are his last uninhibited moments, too, even if he doesn't know it. I cannot bring myself to take them away.

 

I wait for him to reach me before turning to finish my trek.

 

"Where are we going?" His question is a bit breathless.

 

"Just to those trees." We walk the next few minutes in si

 lence and have a seat on the shaded, cool ground. "You'd better be careful or Zandri is going to get jealous. She has her eye on you." I'm teasing, but there is truth behind my words. Every flip of her golden blond hair and bat of her eyelash is designed to make Tomas notice her. So far, he doesn't appear to be cooperating. I'm not sure how I'll feel if he does.

 

"I'm not worried about her. I am worried about you." His hand brushes my arm, sending a shiver up my back.

 

"Why?"

 

"The set of your mouth, the worry in your eyes. I know your face, Cia. I can tell when something is wrong."

 

I shrug and try to deflect. "We just left our families and friends behind and might never see them again."

 

"I've seen you worry about your friends and family. I've seen you stress over getting an answer to a question just right. This is different." His hand settles over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. "I know I wasn't your best friend back home, but you can trust me."

 

Can I?

 

My heart skips a beat and I look away from his intense gaze back at the skimmer — the cabin — where the cameras are waiting. I have known Tomas my entire life. We've worked on school projects together, played games, and even danced in each other's arms for one memorable hour at last year's graduation party. We haven't talked as much this year. My fault. More than once Tomas has asked me to take a walk or work with him on some assignment, but I've always found a reason to say no. My brothers' teasing after that party, the other girls' angry looks, my uncertainty over what those dances meant made me take a step back. Now I have to choose whether to step back again or take a chance and reach out to him. Technically Tomas is my competition, which should make me shut him out.

 

Soon the others will emerge from the building. Cameras will once again be watching and capturing our every move, possibly our every word. I know that here in the shade of the trees, where I am almost positive the cameras have not followed, is the last opportunity to share my concerns without being heard. My father said to trust no one. But looking back into Tomas's serious gray eyes, I decide to ignore that advice this one time. If it is a mistake, it is my mistake. The consequences will be mine to live with.

 

"There's a camera hidden in the skimmer. I spotted two more in the cabin."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

I nod.

 

A lock of hair falls over his forehead as he looks toward the skimmer. "I don't understand. Why would someone be watching us now?"

 

"Because," I say. "The Testing has already begun."