years old. Youâd have forgotten all about your sister.â
âShut up!â I say, holding my hands to my ears. âShut up!â But the stupid gummy wonât shut up; heâs trying to tell me something important even though Iâm covering my ears and I donât want to hear it and I donât want to think about who I am or whatâs wrong with me or why Iâm out here at the edge of the Urb, at the edge of the known world, listening to some old mope whoâs so crazy, he thinks about the future when everybody knows that the future doesnât exist.
âShut up!â I scream. âShut up!â And then Iâm running away, running as fast as my feet will take me, running until I canât hear him anymore and the only word in my head is the word that never leaves, the word I hate the most, the word that means me.
Spaz, spaz, spaz.
Â
Â
W HEN I FINALLY slow down Iâm a long way from the stacks, in a part of the Urb Iâve never been before. Where the streets are narrow and dark and the buildings are so high, the sky disappears and it might as well be night, even in the daytime. A place like this, you stick to the shadows and try not to be seen, because if they donât know you the locals will assume youâre enemy, and most of the time theyâre right.
A drumfire burns on each street corner, and I can see the enforcers warming their hands in the sooty orange flames. Theyâre the block guardians, armed with chetty blades and probably splat guns, too. They might know Iâm almost down with the Bangers and they might not. They might cut my red and they might not. The âmightâ part will kill you, so I edge my way along, trying to blend into the concrete.
Iâm thinking, you mope, never go where youâre not known. Itâs my own fault but I want to blame it on Ryter, for telling me things I donât want to hear.
This time Iâm lucky. Nobody sees me. I creep away through the alleys, keeping to the darkest shadows, heart pounding so hard, my ears hurt. Barely breathing, moving as quiet as a whisper. Thinking, please let me get away, if I get away this time, Iâll never be stupid again.
After what seems like forever I finally get to a place where I know the streets and they know me.
I made it, this time.
Back at the Crypts Iâm ready to fall down on my foam and sleep, because being afraid makes you tired. But I never make it to the foam because someone is waiting inside my cube.
As soon as I step through the door, a voice hisses, âDonât move.â
I canât see who it is because the power is out again, but the voice in the dark sounds as scared as me.
âWho is it?â I ask.
âNobody,â whispers the voice. âA runner.â
A runner. Runners carry messages between the latches, crossing from one gang area to the next, and theyâre strictly forbidden. The gangs want to control everything, and that includes information. Because itâs so dangerous â get caught and youâre canceled â latch runners are highly paid, and thatâs what bothers me: I donât know anyone who could afford to send me a message by runner. Or anyone whoâd want to, even if they could.
âShut the door!â the voice urges me.
I shut the door. The darkness is close and thick and makes me feel out of breath all over again.
âShow me your face,â I demand, trying to sound brave.
âNever,â says the voice. âListen and listen well. Iâm not here, we never met, understood? All I am is a message.â
âWhat message?â
The runnerâs voice changes slightly, as he recites what he was sent to tell me. âI bring you news of home,â he begins.
Already my heart is sinking because nobody knows better than me that all news is bad news. And this is the worst news there ever was.
âYour sister lies close to death,â the runner tells