As we dashed around a corner, I spotted a sewer entrance a few feet away and sighed with relief. We were safe.
I shimmied through the opening on the edge of the sidewalk, and a minute later, Benjy climbed down from a manhole nearby. The sewer was dark and smelled like rust and rot, but it was the only place our conversation would be private. Even the empty streets didn’t offer that guarantee. Shields were everywhere, waiting for their chance to pounce the moment they heard a word against the Harts or the Ministers of the Union. According to Nina, the matronof our group home, they got bonuses for each arrest they made, and they had families to feed, too. Didn’t mean I hated them any less, though.
That morning, before I’d left, she’d said we all had our roles to play. It just so happened that some were better than others. We couldn’t all be VIs and VIIs, and all any of us could hope for was food in our bellies and a place to call our own. I would have a roof over my head; the government made sure of that. But now, with my III, I would be outrageously lucky if it didn’t leak.
In the speeches we watched from first grade on, Prime Minister Daxton Hart promised us that as privileged American citizens, we would be taken care of all our lives, so long as we gave back to the society that needed us. If weworked hard and gave it our all, we would get what we deserved. We were masters of our own fate.
Up until today, I’d believed him.
“What were you doing back there?” said Benjy. “You could’ve been killed.”
“That was kind of the point,” I muttered. “Better than being a III for the rest of my life.”
Benjy sighed and reached for me, but I sidestepped him. I couldn’t take his disappointment, too.
He slouched. “I don’t understand—sixty-eight percent of all people tested are IVs.”
“Yeah, well, guess I’m dumber than sixty-eight percent of the population.” I kicked a puddle of rancid rainwater, splashing a few rats that squeaked in protest.
“Eighty-four percent, actually, including the Vs and above,” said Benjy, and he added quickly, “but you’re not. I mean, you’re smart. You know you are. You outwitted that Shield back there.”
“That wasn’t smart. That was reckless. I told him my real name.”
“You had no choice. If he’d found out you were lying, he would have killed you for sure,” said Benjy. He stopped and faced me, cupping my chin in his hand. “I don’t care what the test said. You’re one of the smartest people I know, all right?”
“Not the kind of smart that matters.” Not like Benjy was. He read everything he could get his hands on, and he forced me to watch the news with him every night. By the time we were nine, he’d read the entire group home librarytwice. I could recite whole articles seconds after he read them to me, but I couldn’t read them to myself.
“Nina was wrong,” I added. “You don’t get extra time if they read the questions to you. The parts I reached were easy, but the reader was slow, and I didn’t finish. And they docked points because I can’t read.”
Benjy opened and shut his mouth. “You should have told me before we left the testing center,” he said, and I shook my head.
“There’s nothing you could have done.” A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. All of the studying, the preparation, the hope—it was all for nothing. “I’m a III. I’m a stupid, worthless—”
“You are not worthless.” Benjy stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest, refusing to cry. “You’re strong. You’re brilliant. You’reperfect exactly the way you are, and no matter what, you’ll always have me, okay?”
“You’d be better off without me and you know it,” I muttered into his sweater.
He pulled away enough to look at me, his blue eyes searching mine. After a long moment, he leaned down and kissed me again, this time lingering. “I’m never better off without you,” he said. “We’re in this together. I love you,and that’s never going to change, all right? I’m yours no matter what your rank is. You could be a I, and I would go Elsewhere just to find you.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a choking sob. The rank of I was only given to the people who couldn’t work or contribute to society, and once they were sent Elsewhere, no one ever saw them again. “If I were a I, we probably never would’ve met in the first place.”