The Gift

Chapter 54

Whit

POOR WISTY COULD BARELY sit up and, for two days afterward, had to stay in her bunk, subsisting on water and the soup crackers that I stole from the cafeteria.

But the craziest and scariest part of it was, even in the height of her sickness, she was still craving more chocolate.

My sister was officially an addict.

"I actually fantasized before we got here that it would be like a celebrity-rehab center where I could just do nothing but recover all day," Wisty confesses to me at one point. "Now that I'm doing it… well, it sucks."

It's not easy for a champion athlete and a whip-smart troublemaker who loves the spotlight, but we resolve from here on out to be the most average, unremarkable students in the building.

We'll do everything asked of us, but no more than that. Nothing that will make us stand out. Anything to keep us from getting any special attention.

It's nearly impossible to stay under the radar with Crossley and Byron on the premises, since we'd love nothing more than to interrogate the heck out of them. But we quickly figure out that the best strategy is to nod politely and do our work with as much mediocrity as possible.

Our assignments center around the "brilliant efficiency" of the New Order's world vision. Essays in which we prove that The One Who Is The One is the most powerful visionary in all of human history. Math problems in which we demonstrate that never before have more people been more productive than under the New Order. Science readings in which we learn that magic, art, music, and most of the rest of humanity's former extracurricular activities were harmful to humankind.

One day our plan to blend in goes up in smoke, though, when Crossley does something really stupid. He's still peeved at Wisty for not giving him some of her M.

We're sitting in the cafeteria, eating the usual nutritious but antidelicious porridge, when he throws a piece of chocolate out on the table right in front of her. I figure it must be stolen, since he doesn't get to the Rewards Center much.

"Want some choc-o-late, Wisty?" he says real slowly, smacking his lips.

My sister looks down at the candy and literally starts to tremble at the temptation. She drops her spoon and grabs the edge of the metal table with both hands.

"Yeah," Crossley goes on, despite the "I'm going to grind you into burger meat" look I'm giving him. "I won a contest. Guess I didn't need your help after all. But maybe I could use your help eating my rewards," he says, pushing the chocolate closer to her. "Or not." He pops it into his mouth.

Wisty's shaking. In fact she's shaking so hard the whole table's moving around. And now, oh no, not again -

She bursts into flames.