by Aimee Carter
I didn’t, though, and not just because I could barely find a bathroom in the Stronghold, let alone the kitchens. If I were caught, or if they had any reason to suspect I wasn’t going along with their plan, I had no idea what they would do to me. Knox at least seemed to pretend he was on my side, but Celia—she never looked me in the eye. Not that I could blame her, but it did little to make me feel like any less of a pariah. To her credit, she didn’t seem to take it out on me. She grew more and more distant as the days passed, but she was never cruel. She was as stuck as I was, and the most either of us could do was pretend not to hurt as much as we did.
The one problem that wasn’t going to be solved anytime soon was the fact that I couldn’t read. Lila had loved books, and according to Celia, she had an entire library to herself in their New York home. She had constantly carried an old-fashioned paperback around with her to read in her spare moments, and many of the speeches she gave were read off glass screens in the middle of the crowd. Teleprompters, Celia said. Knox called them cheat sheets.
That wouldn’t work for me, though. I had to learn how to repeat a speech fed to me through an earpiece, which I quickly discovered was much harder than it sounded. I tried again and again, but it never got easier. Worse, Lila sounded exactly like Celia, her voice rich and much more adult than mine. Some sort of technology had been implanted in my voice box to copy hers, but it wasn’t really the sound of her voice that tripped me up. It was the way she talked and formed sentences. After a week, I still didn’t have it down. When she spoke, she sounded like she had the answers to everything, and there was something about her that made even me want to follow her off a cliff. I couldn’t mimic that no matter how hard I tried.
Celia also made the mistake of trying to teach me how to read, even though I insisted it was useless. It wasn’t that I was stupid or wasn’t trying. Letters strung together had simply never made sense to me. I knew what words meant, and because Benjy had read to me every night, I knew my favorite stories by heart. But while I had a talent for remembering what I’d heard, something about reading didn’t work in my head. Celia tried to keep her cool, but eventually she gave up.
“I’ll record your speeches for you,” she said after a disastrous lesson using one of Lila’s favorite childhood books. “You can memorize them instead.”
This worked for me, and once we figured it out, things gradually grew easier. Whether I liked it or not, I was slowly turning into Lila Hart.
It took me eleven days to learn everything I needed to fool the casual observer into thinking I was Lila. Every moment I wasn’t sleeping or receiving lessons from Knox and Celia, I watched recordings of her. Speech after speech after speech, public appearances, family recordings from when she was an infant onward—by the time those eleven days were over, if there was something to know about Lila, I knew it. She didn’t eat red meat; she preferred music so old that the songs were sung by people, not by digitally created voices; her eyes never crinkled when she smiled; and according to Knox, she’d gotten that butterfly tattoo only months before she died. It had been an act of rebellion that she’d purposely revealed during a formal dinner between her uncle, her grandmother, and the leaders of foreign nations I’d never heard of. Even Celia, who stared blankly at her hands while the speeches were playing, managed a smile at the memory.
But those were only snapshots. Glimpses of who she was. Facts. In a way, it felt like the more I learned, the less I knew her. And I was no closer to having a conversation with her than I had been before Daxton had found me.
The speeches she gave were dangerous and full of reasons why there should be equality among the people like there had been during the early twenty-first century—when no one was marked or assigned careers, when freedom meant more than being able to walk down designated streets at night. When one person’s entire life wasn’t determined by a single test; when you had the chance to be whatever you wanted to be and live the kind of life you wanted without being told what to do. When we all had a choice. A real choice.
My entire life, I’d been told that the ranks were there for a reason. Everyone had their place, and the only way society could function was if we all respected the system. We were all equals when we took the test, and we were all scored the same way.
But in the speeches Lila gave, she said that the children who grew up in the neighborhoods meant for IIs and IIIs weren’t given the same opportunities as the others. At first I didn’t understand—there was only so much you could learn, right? Who cared where the schools were or what kind of supplies we had?
And then she talked about the education the children of Vs and VIs received.
“Some kids have tutors to help them with the test?” I said, stunned. “Isn’t that cheating?” Getting five minutes with my teachers had been next to impossible, let alone anything more. It wasn’t their fault, not really—there were dozens of us crammed into a classroom. Most days the teachers were lucky if they got everyone to shut up at the same time.
Celia pressed a few buttons on the remote. “I wouldn’t call it cheating. It’s more...teaching to the test, shall we say?”
“Most of the highly sought-after tutors are people who have worked in the testing centers,” said Knox. “If your family has enough money, they’ll hire one.”
“Yeah, but only VIs can afford that,” I said. He shrugged.
After that, I made a point of listening to what Lila was saying, not just the way she said it. If the government lied to everyone about the so-called equality of the test, then what else were they lying about?
None of the speeches Lila gave were televised. Instead they were recorded on handheld devices like the one Daxton had, some so shaky that I had to look away, but it wasn’t what she looked like that mattered. She talked about doing away with Elsewhere and reverting to the system of government America had used before the Ministers of the Union had been formed, one where the elections were real and not a way for the Harts to legitimize their stranglehold over the country.
It was political treason, and if she’d been anyone other than a Hart, she would have been shot on sight. She was questioning the very system that was responsible for her family’s power and the VII on the back of her neck. She was leading a rebellion.
School didn’t teach us anything about the time before the ranks. There were mentions of the past, the World Wars and long-dead kings of countries across the oceans, but as far as the textbooks were concerned, history began seventy-one years ago, when the first citizen of the union was marked and Daxton’s grandfather became prime minister. Years before I was born, there had been people who’d remembered a time before, but now everyone over the age of sixty was sent Elsewhere and never heard from again.
Maybe instead of killing me, that was what Daxton had in mind. I’d be as good as dead anyway, since no one knew where Elsewhere was. Presumably someplace warm where people could grow old and die, where they wouldn’t take up space in already-crowded cities and could keep an eye on the criminals who were sent there as well, banished from society for the smallest of crimes. That wouldn’t be so bad, except for the part where I wouldn’t have Benjy.
But something about the way Lila spoke—she believed in her message. There was no need to tell IIs and IIIs that something crucial was missing from their lives, but judging by the well-dressed crowds, few members of the audiences were below a V. Not only was she speaking to the population about her traitorous ideas, but she was convincing the smart and the powerful.
No wonder Daxton and Augusta had had her killed.
The door handle rattled one afternoon as I watched the last recording of her, a rousing demand that the rank and assignment system be demolished in favor of freedom and choice. Knox, who sat beside me, jumped up and turned off the screen. From the other side of the room, Celia launched herself toward the door.
I expected her to chew out whoever was on the other side,
but instead she stepped back and opened it all the way. Daxton entered, and behind him walked a woman with chin-length white hair and a face so smooth it looked like she was made of marble. She held her shoulders back with such perfect posture that my spine ached just looking at her, and as a member of the only family exempt from going Elsewhere at age sixty, she was by far the oldest person I’d ever seen.
Augusta Hart.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” said Celia. “We weren’t expecting you for another two hours.” The bitterness in her tone was obvious to me, but Augusta didn’t seem to notice. If she did, she didn’t care.
“My schedule freed up unexpectedly,” said Augusta, her voice as cold as her expression. She stared at me, as if she could see right through Lila’s face to the person I was underneath. I held her gaze, but she said nothing to me.
Daxton hesitated. “Mother, this is Kitty. Lila’s replacement.”
“Stand-in,” corrected Augusta. “What have you been teaching her?”
“Everything,” I said. “How Lila talked, how she acted, how she walked and what she ate—”
“Celia,” interrupted Augusta, as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “I asked you a question.”
My face grew warm as I glowered at her, and a muscle in Celia’s jaw twitched. “We’ve been teaching her exactly what you told us to, Mother. The basics and enough to help her fully adjust. Nothing more.” She flipped on the television screen Knox had turned off in such a rush. Somehow Lila’s last speech had been replaced by a recording of her running around as a child while wearing a frilly tutu and a crown I wasn’t so sure was plastic.
Augusta nodded curtly, still watching me as if I were a piece of furniture instead of a living, breathing human being. “If she passes tonight’s test, she will be taken back to the city and will resume her duties. If not, you will all remain in the Stronghold until she is ready.”
“Of course,” said Celia, and Augusta sniffed.
“If all goes well, the media will be informed of your return from vacation tomorrow, so no one will have a chance to speculate,” she added, as if the Harts hadn’t controlled the media and public opinion for decades. “You holidayed in Aspen. Do prepare her for that, as well.”
Augusta turned to leave the room, and I tightened my fists. “It was nice to meet you,” I said before I could stop myself.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Seconds ticked by, and my heart pounded as I waited for her to say something. Maybe I was nothing more than a pawn to her, a nameless piece in whatever twisted game she was playing, but she had to acknowledge me eventually.
Finally Augusta stepped toward the door, and Daxton held it open for her. “Don’t be silly, dear,” she said. “You’ve known me your whole life.”
* * *
Celia spent the next two hours preparing me for dinner. She stuffed me into a dress and painful high heels, and while she did my hair, she drilled me on everything I’d learned over the past eleven days. No matter how hard I tried, nothing I said was exactly right.
“No, no, no,” she snapped, yanking my hair. “She named her cat Missy, not Misty, and her favorite color’s chartreuse, not green.” She let out a frustrated groan and turned to Knox, who sat on the couch watching the whole production. “She’s going to fail, and it’ll be our asses on the line.”
Knox stood and crossed the room. He took my hair from her and nudged her aside, his gentle fingers expertly finishing the intricate hairstyle. How many times had he done this for Lila?
“All you can do is your best,” said Knox patiently to me while Celia collapsed in a huff on the sofa. “If you aren’t there yet, we’ll keep at it until you have it down. No one can expect you to learn how to be a completely different person in less than two weeks.”
Apparently Augusta did, and her opinion was the only one that mattered. “What’s she going to ask me?” I said, using my loose dialect instead of stumbling over Lila’s prim and proper accent. If anything screwed me up, it’d be that.
“I don’t know,” he said, tying off a twisted braid. “Just remember what we’ve taught you, and you’ll do fine.”
“Whatever you do, don’t mention the speeches,” added Celia, and Knox shot her a look. She returned it. “She needs to know she can’t talk about them, else Mother will have all our heads.”
So the speeches they’d shown me hadn’t been on Augusta’s approved teaching list after all. Somehow that didn’t surprise me. “I won’t,” I said, glancing at Knox in the mirror. “Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not the only thing we have to worry about,” he muttered. He finished up my hair quickly, and to my surprise, it looked good on Lila. On me.
He offered me his hand, but I ignored it and took one last look at my new face. This would have to be enough for tonight. “Let’s get this over with.”
Knox and Celia led the way to the dining room. Everything I’d been taught seemed to drain from my mind as we made our way down the hallway, leaving me feeling empty. My hands shook, and I could barely remember my own name, let alone Lila’s.
I took a deep breath, and another, and another, trying to calm my nerves, but nothing worked. My heart raced, and no amount of silently reassuring myself helped. I was screwed. I might have looked like Lila, but I wasn’t her. And no amount of training would ever change that.
Halfway there, Knox set his hand on my shoulder and offered me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You can fake anything as long as you have Lila’s attitude. Hold your head high and act like you’re pretending nothing bothers you when everything does, and you’ll be golden.”
“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” I said.
“For Lila, it was.” Knox offered me his arm. I thought about not taking it, but my dress was made of silk, and I would never have forgiven myself if I’d fallen and ripped something so exquisite. I slid my arm into his and straightened. Lila wouldn’t have been caught dead slouching.
“How did we meet?” I said, using Lila’s accent. It sounded fake to my ears, but Celia didn’t comment, so it couldn’t have been too bad.
“Has your memory gone now, as well?” he said, eyebrow raised. “Or were you more drugged than I thought?”
I glared at him. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Lila. How did you two meet?”
“We’ve known each other since we were kids, and we’ve been engaged since she turned seventeen. My father’s the minister of ranking, so my family’s close with the VIIs. It was pretty much a done deal as soon as she was born.”
“So you’re not a VII?” I said. “I mean, I know only Harts have VIIs, but since you’re going to marry her—” Marry me. I cringed. “I thought they might have given one to you, too.”
Knox turned down his collar so I could see his tattoo. A black VI stood out against his skin, and I bit my lip to stop myself from grinning. I outranked Lennox Creed. “No one who wasn’t born and raised a Hart has a VII. Except for you, of course.” He smirked. “Lucky you.”
“Lucky me.” If Knox wasn’t going to have a VII even after he married Lila—married me—did that mean Augusta was a VI, as well? It almost seemed too good to be true. “You must be smarter than you look.”
“How do you mean?” he said.
“Your test,” I said. “To get a VI.”
“Oh, you mean the aptitude exam,” said Knox. “I didn’t take it. Wouldn’t do for the next minister of ranking to have a IV or a V, would it?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “You didn’t take it?” I said, stunned. “But—that’s not fair!”
Knox tugged me forward, but when I dug my heels into the marble floor, Celia stepped up beside me and took my other elbow. “All Ministry positions are inherited,” she said. “All of the Harts are given VIIs, and all the children of ministers are given VIs.”
<
br /> Together they dragged me down the hall, and I gave in, too horrified to fight. “So what, the whole line about everyone having an equal chance is really a bunch of bull?” I spat.
“Yes,” said Celia. “I’m surprised anyone still believes that.”
Everyone still believed it. What else did we have to justify our miserable lives? And for the kids who hadn’t taken it yet, they still had hope they could make something of themselves. It was the same hope I’d lost the day I’d been marked a III.
“What if there’s someone out there better qualified?” I said. “What if you’re really a II and suddenly you run the entire country?”
Knox smiled grimly. “I’m not a II, and I’ve trained my whole life for that job. When my father turns sixty, no one will be better prepared for it than me.”
“It’s still not fair,” I said, and he shrugged.
“Most things aren’t. That’s just the way the world works. If you don’t like it, then do something about it.”
I gritted my teeth. There wasn’t anything I could do; that was the problem. I might have had a VII, but that gave me no power or privilege that Daxton hadn’t already approved. If I opened my mouth, I’d be risking more than my new rank, and no matter how mad I got, I couldn’t forget that my only job right now was to convince the world I was Lila.
I had to grin and bear it. Lila might have gotten away with speaking out against her family for a little while, but I wasn’t Lila, and look what had happened to her in the end. I refused to let that happen to me, too.
The dining room was bathed in a warm golden glow from the crystal chandelier. The table was covered with a scarlet tablecloth, and the furniture was made of dark wood, giving the room a rich, homey feel. Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. A cold, bright room where I’d be quizzed on every aspect of Lila’s life, sure. But not something this comfortable.
Daxton sat at the end of the table closest to the door, and across from him, Augusta watched me over her wine. My feet didn’t want to move, but Knox led me around to the side of the table, and we both sat down. I was two chairs away from Augusta, and I averted my eyes to avoid her burning stare.
