After several more tries, I shove the wardrobe back. Then trying not to feel self-conscious, I put my bag on the ground, sit next to it, and pull out the list. With Symon and Dr. Barnes waiting to spring their trap, I doubt President Collindar will be able to delay making her proposal on the Debate Chamber floor for much longer than the seven days she promised. In that time, I have to assemble a group of true rebels, formulate a plan, and execute twelve leaders of the United Commonwealth. The enormity of the task threatens to overwhelm me, but I don’t have time for doubt.

Tomas has agreed to help. If I haven’t misjudged her, Stacia will join the cause after our class tomorrow. While part of me considers creating a test for her, what I learned during The Testing has given me enough insight into her character.

Those two are smarter than any others I know, but no matter their resourcefulness, there are still too many targets for three of us to handle. Four if I count Zeen, although I’m uncertain how much help he can offer while entrenched in the rebel camp. Still, I write his name on the paper next to Tomas’s and Stacia’s. Then I consider the others.

Dr. Barnes has the resources of the entire United Commonwealth and years of trial and error to create his examinations. I have Tomas, Stacia, my instincts, and only a few days. The question of what litmus test to use on my peers is a difficult one. Clearly, I must present them with an opportunity that puts a crossroads before them. An opportunity to make a choice that shows not only whether they wish to stop The Testing but also whether they are willing to believe that violent action is necessary to obtain that goal.

Easier said than done.

I consider various scenarios, but none seems appropriate for all. And I realize that this is the problem. In contrast to the early stages of The Testing, everyone cannot now be given the same test. Each classmate has a different outlook on life and a different goal for his or her time here at the University. Yes, they all want to be leaders, but none has the same reason behind it.

Raffe is here because of his family connections. That history should tie him tightly to Dr. Barnes, but it doesn’t appear to. Raffe doesn’t act as though it is his birthright to be one of our country’s future leaders. He’s hiding secrets. As is Ian. I believe Ian wants The Testing to end. We are both colony students who have faced many of the same challenges to get to this place. That alone should be enough to put us on the same side. But I’m uncertain whether he is a member of the rebellion, and if so, how loyal he is to Symon. If he believes Symon is truly working to end The Testing, Ian will not want me interfering in the rebels plans. He will do whatever it takes to stop me. Even if we have the same agenda, it is unclear how Ian would react if I were to tell him what I know.

Enzo is another mystery. He has his own share of secrets. After what he shared with me outside the residence, I believe his father and brothers are among Symon’s or Ranetta’s numbers. If they are part of Ranetta’s faction, he might be able to get word to them about Symon’s treachery. If Zeen and Enzo’s family members both met with Ranetta, they might be able to encourage her to work independently of Symon and to remove the targets on the president’s list without Dr. Barnes being alerted to the attack. However, if his family is working with Symon’s group, then Enzo may not believe what I have to say. As potential members of the rebellion, Ian and Enzo could be my staunch allies or my ardent opponents.

Raffe, Ian, and Enzo. I need to test all three. But what challenge should I give each of them? And while I do not want to ask myself this, I have to wonder, if they do not pass, what the punishment for failure should be.

My eyes grow as heavy as my heart. Though I want to keep working, I know my mind will function better if I rest. Besides, who knows how much sleep I will get in the days to come.

I slide a change of clothes along with my papers into my bag, and crawl into bed with the bag tucked in beside me. Despite the bulk of it, having my things next to me is strangely comforting. I slept like this every night during The Testing and survived. With a lot of luck and the right decisions, I will survive again.

My sleep is filled with flashes of memories. The poisonous plants from the second test. Malachi as he touched the wrong part of the pulse radio, sending a nail into his eye. Annalise as she tossed her red hair and swaggered out the door. The city streets with only one path for escape. Will’s green eyes staring at me from behind the barrel of his gun as he fired.

When I wake, sunlight is streaming through the window. I put my bag on the floor and slide out of bed. Today the president will announce that Michal is missing. The debate will be postponed. The countdown to the rebels’ attack will end as mine begins. And the images from last night’s dreams give me an idea of how to start.

I shower, pull my hair into a knot at the base of my neck, and check the time. There is an hour until my first class starts. Time enough. I place two of the half-inch round trackers I took from President Collindar’s fifth-floor storeroom into my jacket pocket. The monitor I slide into my bag. Then, after a quick inventory of the mechanical parts I have stored in my bottom desk drawer, I grab my bag and head downstairs to get the other pieces I need. No one is working in the labs this morning. I search through all four of them before I find the items I require. Since I have to get to class soon, I put all the parts in my bag, grab food from the dining hall so I can work through lunch. Then I look for Ian. When I spot him at our usual table, sitting across from Raffe, I walk over and slide into the seat beside him.

Putting one hand in my pocket, I quietly ask, “Do you have time to talk? I’m leaving for class in a few minutes but there’s something . . .” I drop my fork, get out of my seat, and kneel down to retrieve it. While doing so, I slip one of the small tracking devices into the side pocket of the bag at his feet. I’ve never seen Ian put anything in that pocket, but I’m hoping the disk will be small enough to escape his notice if he does. Grabbing my fork, I back out from under the table and take my seat again, keeping my eyes lowered so Ian will think I’m flustered by my mistake. In a quiet voice I ask, “Is there any word on when we’ll be able to leave campus?”