Graduation Day (The Testing 3)

Stacia’s cool, calculating eyes meet mine. “You’re planning on killing Dr. Barnes and eleven of his supporters. You really think one more is going to matter to the president as long as you help her achieve her goal?”

“No,” I whisper. I’m certain it won’t. But it matters to me. Raffe saved my life. My legs begin to tremble. I place my hands on the cool worktable as a wave of dizziness crashes over me.

“Just because you like Raffe doesn’t mean he’s not a threat. As far as I can tell you have two choices—keep him out of this, or give him a test that will allow us to know if you’re right to trust him and that will remove him from the equation if you’re wrong.”

Keep Raffe out of this plan? I doubt he would let that happen. He already knows about the false rebellion and the true nature of The Testing. More, he’s aware of my understanding of both. He will be watching what I do. If he is not a member of my team, he will certainly interfere with or possibly work against us. Even without knowing what I am about to do, Raffe could cause this plan to fail. My brother and the rebels could die. The Testing would continue. And the rest of the country . . . It is impossible to know what the repercussions would be, but I know I can’t risk them happening. Not if I can potentially stop them.

Trying not to think about what I am doing, I slide the second tracking device into the box. Then I go to the cabinets where chemicals are stored.

Locked.

Not a surprise but also not a deterrent, since the same kind of closure was on the wooden chests where my brothers used to store their personal items. When I was little, they teased me by hiding my favorite rag doll in those locked containers. Since my father believed in fair play, he taught me to pop the locks on the chests with a wire or thin piece of metal. Once my brothers learned I could open the locks, they stopped taking my doll. I haven’t had reason to use that skill much since then, but I have not lost the ability. Within moments, the cabinet doors stand open. As Stacia compliments my breaking-and-entering skills, I find what I need to create something else my father taught me. Something that could serve the purpose that Stacia suggests. Potassium nitrate, charcoal powder, and sulfur powder.

Stacia nods as I put the chemicals on the table and start to measure, hoping that I recall the proper ratios. I mete out the same amounts of each chemical twice—so when I am done there are two bowls that contain seventy-five percent potassium nitrate and smaller amounts of sulfur and charcoal. I keep an eye on the clock as the two of us grind the chemicals together. The process is slow, but dividing the labor makes it go quicker.

Stacia passes the time by chatting. “I can understand why the president might want to stop it, but The Testing can’t be all bad. I mean, there has to be some kind of benchmark for who gets to be in charge and who doesn’t.”

“Killing candidates seems like an extreme method of making that choice,” I say, although I can’t help but think of what I am doing now and wonder if my choices are just as extreme.

“I can’t imagine they kill everyone who doesn’t pass. Right?” Stacia stops and looks at me. “I mean, this country is still rebuilding. Killing off over eighty Testing candidates every year isn’t logical.”

“Then what do you think happened to them?” I’ve often wondered if the candidates who weren’t killed as direct penalties for failure have survived.

“I don’t know.” Stacia starts her work again. “We can’t remember our Testing, but who’s to say it was as bad as you’ve been told? And even if it is, think about the penalty for leaders who fail. They’re not the only ones who suffer the consequences when that happens. How else can you tell if someone can handle that?”

Stacia’s calm reasoning is disturbing because I can see the logic in her words.

“There has to be another way,” I reply.

“Well, there’s going to have to be since we’re going to end it. But you have to wonder whether the president would be asking you to do this if The Testing hadn’t already told her what you’re capable of. What happens once The Testing has ended and they need leaders who are willing to do whatever it takes to help this country survive? Just because someone says they are capable doesn’t make it true. And just because you think something is wrong doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary.”

“If you think The Testing is necessary, why are you working with me to end it?”

Stacia’s smile is hard and so very familiar. It makes me shiver now, especially when she says, “Because I want my chance to make sure the mistakes that ruined this country never happen again. If I have to kill to make that a reality, then that’s what I’ll do.” Stacia laughs. “Besides, you’d never do anything you weren’t certain was absolutely right. If you believe that by ending The Testing we’ll prevent a potential civil war, that’s good enough for me.”

My breath catches. My chest tightens as Stacia’s casually spoken words settle on my shoulders like a yoke. She is here because I asked. She will kill not out of passion for the purpose we have, but because of me. My request. My beliefs. My choices. I can only hope they are the right ones.

We work in silence for the next half hour. By the time the powder is ground, our arms are tired. Stacia helps me strain the black powder, then test it by putting a small pinch of the substance on a block of wood. I put the wood on a table, touch the match to it, and step back as the substance ignites. A flame several inches high burns bright, then fades.

It doesn’t take long for us to put shredded paper and the black powder into the fake pulse radio I constructed. Then I slide two wires into the holes and wrap black adhesive tape around the lid to ensure that the wires stay in place and no powder escapes the holes.

I check the switch on the radio to

make sure I have built it properly. To engage the power source, someone must flip the switch and then turn a knob a hundred and eighty degrees. It is a design sometimes used to make sure power is not wasted if a switch is mistakenly turned to the On position.

Stacia takes a step back as I connect the other ends of the wires to my power source. I count to ten and then let out an exhale of relief when the device stays quiet in my hands.

“Well, that was amazing to watch. I’m glad to know I’m on your side.” Her grin is wide and delighted. “So, when do you plan on giving this to Raffe? I want to make sure I’m far away in case he decides to give it a whirl.”

“I don’t know.” Now that I’m holding it in my hands, I can visualize him turning the dial. Igniting the powder. Getting caught in the explosion.

“Take advantage of the first opportunity that presents itself. If we want to succeed, we don’t have time to waste.”

Knowing she’s right, I carefully pour the last of the black powder into a small specimen container, seal the lid, and put it in my bag, along with a book of matches from the cabinet. Together we clean up the evidence that someone has been in this room, secure the cabinet doors, and gather our things. I remove one of the single-frequency radios from my bag and hand it to Stacia. “I’ll let you know when I’m done testing the others and we can move on to the next step. For now I have to get to class.”

“Why?” Stacia slides the radio next to her books and tosses her hair. “Something tells me skipping a few classes isn’t really going to affect our grades from here on out.”

“Maybe not, but until we start our attack, we need to stick to our normal routines.”