“Octavia? Octavia?”
Rondo’s mouth is moving, but his voice seems to be coming through a thick cloud. For as long as I can remember—since I was old enough to speak—my parents have told me that my grandfather died on a planet far away. That he never saw Faloiv. What Rondo is telling me contradicts everything I’ve known my entire life.
“I think we should sit her down,” Alma whispers, like I’m not right in front of her listening. But I can’t find the way to make my mouth reply.
“Octavia?” Rondo says. He gives my shoulder a gentle shake.
I look at him. The only thing I can think to say is, “So my parents have been lying about that too.”
He blinks, raises an eyebrow. He wants to tell me yes, but is afraid to actually say it. He thinks I’m breakable right now, fragile. I almost smile. I wrap my fingers around this new secret and hold it tightly.
“We’re going to find out more,” I say.
They’re both looking at me uncertainly and a vague current of annoyance floods through me. What did they expect? That I’d cry? Break down? An echo of a whitecoat’s voice whispers, For what purpose?
“You said you’ve looked in every database for mention of the missing hundred?”
Rondo nods. He’s swallowing his uncertainty, the excitement gradually returning to his face.
“Right,” he says. “There’s nothing.”
“What about personal files? Can you get access to those?”
He raises one eyebrow.
“So much for being worried about me getting caught, huh?”
“You won’t get caught,” I say. “Just cover your tracks or whatever it is you do.”
Then I remember something else.
“Didn’t you say that you saw someone else in the files last time you were poking around?”
“Yep. Their footprints are all over the databases. Still don’t know who it is though.”
“But that means somebody else knows about the missing hundred.”
“I’m certain.”
“I bet a lot of people know, actually,” Alma says. Her worry has softened and she’s back into problem-solving mode. I’m glad I brought her with me. “Think about it. Our people all boarded the Vagantur together to come here. They’d notice if a hundred of their friends and family disappeared. A lot of the old folks who are still alive probably know something from the landing. Some of the people who were older kids when we landed probably remember too.”
“Like my parents,” I can’t resist saying. “Pretty sure my mother would remember her father disappearing when we crash-landed on a new planet.”
They both look at me helplessly. I know how I must sound: emotional. Angry. But I have a right to my anger for the moment. So many secrets, some with roots that stretch back for decades. If they’d keep my grandfather’s disappearance a secret from me—what else would they hide?
“We’re going to find out more,” I repeat. “I wish we could get into the Zoo now.”
“And do what?” Alma says. “We’ve only had access to the sorting room, and we know there’s nothing to see there but eggs. Even if one or two of them are . . . different.”
“I don’t know.” I groan. “Something. Who’s someone we could talk to that might get us some answers?”
“You mean a whitecoat? No one,” Alma says. “We’re not even actual scientists yet, O. None of them is going to give us any time until well after we’ve taken the oath and started working on projects of our own.”
“What about Dr. Espada? We could ask him, right?”
She looks doubtful. I can’t tell if she’s thinking of our argument about me asking too many questions or if she’s just being logical.
“If anyone would answer our questions, it would be him,” I insist. “We could slip it into conversation like it’s something we heard in the Zoo.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know when we’ll see him again.”
Dr. Espada is the one I need to talk to; I think back to our last day at the Greenhouse, the day he assigned us to our internships. He seemed almost sad when I sat at his desk, so intense . . .
Suddenly, I’m listening. My mind feels sharp and open: a feeling of utter clarity. I smell ogwe trees, though I’m not near enough to one for this to make sense. My ears ring and I notice a quiet buzz swirling in my head. Now that I’ve noticed it, it seems to grow louder. Has it been there all along, or did it just appear? Something tugs at the back of my brain, a prickling inside my skull.
And then I’m running. Alma and Rondo call my name, but I can’t answer. The tugging feeling pulls me along and I’m not even sure where I’m going until I find that my feet are carrying me back home, gliding down the dirt path as if I’m flying, barely feeling my feet hit the soil. I reach our ’wam’s door, hurriedly swiping my palm across the pad and darting through as soon as it opens.
I rush through the empty kitchen, down the dim hallway, and throw open my folding bedroom door. I scramble onto my bed, pawing at the mattress, fumbling to pull up the corner. I know before I even see that the hole is empty, but my eyes confirm it: the egg is gone.