The tension in the room ratchets up a couple notches. I tighten my hold on Tomas's hand, which has to be uncomfortable for him, but he doesn't complain.

"Part two is a series of hands-on examinations that will allow you to demonstrate your ability to transfer intellectual knowledge into practical use. Those who pass will be asked to participate in part three — an examination that will test your ability to work in teams and assess your teammates' strengths and weaknesses. Finally, part four will test your decision making and leadership abilities. Those who get high marks in all four sections of The Testing will then have a one-on-one evaluation with the selection committee. This final personality and psychological evaluation will help us determine who will move on to the University, where you will join with other outstanding minds to help restore the land and our country both to their former glory. This is a lofty goal, but from what I'm hearing about this class of candidates — especially those from colonies we haven't seen in years — I'm certain you can achieve it."

I see students in the rows in front of us looking around. For Malachi and Zandri. For me and Tomas. My roommate said everyone was interested in us because it was speculated that Five Lakes Colony was long dead. She would have mentioned if other colonies had been absent from The Testing. By singling us out, Dr. Barnes has most likely painted targets on our backs. Was it intentional? The polished quality of his speech tells me it was. Does he want to encourage the other students to trip us, or is he leveling the field so the others will not overlook us as teammates later?

Dr. Barnes hands the microphone off to a willowy woman whose red jumpsuit clashes with her bright orange hair. She introduces herself as Professor Verna Holt and says, "You will now be taken to your Testing rooms. All candidates have been assigned to groups based on your previous academic successes. The group you belong to is represented by the large symbol on your identification bracelet. When you see the symbol of your group on the screen behind me, please join the other members by the elevator banks. A Testing official will meet and escort you to your Testing room. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors and look forward to working with you in the days and weeks ahead."

There is the hum of a motor and a large white screen unfurls above the stage. A black heart symbol flashes. You can hear people murmur as the symbol registers. Their time has come. I see Nicolette tromp up the aisle and disappear out the door with the twenty or so members of her group. Several minutes pass. A few people whisper. I hold my breath, waiting for the next group to be called.

A triangle. Malachi and Ryme.

I spot Malachi's small, slight body rise from a seat to our far left. His mouth is pursed in concentration or fear as he walks up the aisle. I give him a thumbs-up, but his eyes are plastered on the back of the girl in front of him and he doesn't notice.

There are fewer whispers. More fidgeting as we wait. My heart keeps pace with the seconds ticking by. The screen flickers. Another symbol.

Mine.

Tomas sucks in air, and I remember. Ours. Though I am certain he will outdistance all of us on the tests, I am so glad he is coming with me. He is a touchstone from home. I will do better knowing he is near.

We rise and join the others in our group. I can't help but notice that our group is much smaller than the others. Once we are in the hallway, I count. Ten. Half the size. Is this good or bad? The two Testing officials in their red and purple do not allow me the time to worry further. The blonde asks us to follow her. She heads down the hallway to the left and we follow. A dark-haired man brings up the rear.

The woman at the door instructs us to step inside and take a seat at one of the desks. The door is narrow. Tomas goes first. I enter next. Two steps inside and I stop walking. My feet are planted to the floor as bile climbs up my throat.

I know this room.

White walls.

White floors.

Black desks.

This is the Testing room from my father's nightmares.

CHAPTER 6

I TAKE DEEP breaths. I force my legs to move. All the while I am wondering, if this room from my father's subconscious is real, what else is? If my answers today don't make the grade . . .

No. I yank my thoughts back to the here and now. Worrying about what comes next will not help me excel on this test. Breathing, focusing, relaxing — those are the things that allow my mind to work best. I start with the first. Deep and low. In and out. I finger the yellow pencil sitting on the desk and out of the corner of my eye see Tomas watching me with concern. Shaking my head, I smile to tell him not to worry. I'm fine. I will be fine.

While I wait for the test to begin, I take in the other members of my group. There is only one other girl in the room. She has long red hair and the fabric of her black dress is in perfect contrast with her pale skin. Her back is rigid, her eyes forward. The boys are no less focused. Two blonds. One redhead. Four with varying shades of brown. And Tomas. Several are of slight build, but the redhead in particular has muscles that speak of a life filled with activity. As I wonder briefly what colony he is from, a tall, bald man in purple walks into the room carrying a large stack of bound papers.

The tests.

Paper is precious in our community since so many trees were destroyed in the Seven Stages. All paper usage is carefully monitored in school. Once the paper has been used and is no longer needed, it is sent to Omaha Colony for recycling.

Silently, the Testing official circulates in the room, stopping at each desk, never once meeting any of the candidates' eyes. The large booklet lands on the shiny black surface in front of me. The cover reads History. In the right corner is the design from my bracelet — the eight-pointed star with a lightning bolt. My fingers itch to open the cover and see what lies beneath, but none of the other candidates opens theirs. Heart pounding, I wait.

The Testing official reaches the front of the room. He does not introduce himself but says, "Complete the pages in front of you to the best of your ability. If you need a drink of water, raise your hand and water will be brought to you. If you need to relieve yourself, raise your hand and an official will escort you to the facilities and back. You have four hours starting now."

He pushes a button on the front wall, which causes a small screen to descend from the ceiling. A timer. And the numbers are running backward.

Our time has begun.

Fingers trembling, I open the booklet to the first page.

Question: Explain the First Stage of the War of the Nations.

Answer: The assassination of Prime Minister Chae, which fractured the Asian Alliance, sparked a power struggle among the other nations and a civil war. During the civil war, bombs were dropped on the Korean States, destroying most of the population and causing the meltdown of two nuclear reactors.

Question: Name the first two North American cities destroyed by the Mideastern Coalition.

Answer: Washington, D.C., and Boston.

Question: What group was the first to declare war on the North American Alliance?

Answer: The South American Coalition.

Question after question, I scribble answers. Hoping I'm correct. Hoping the details I provide are what the Testing committee is looking for. Questions about the bombs dropped, cities destroyed, people dead. More questions about the earthquakes, floods, windstorms filled with radioactive air. Events that cut the world's population to a fraction of what it was. It still amazes me that anyone survived the horrors I write about let alone had the strength and conviction to turn things around. I answer questions about the man from Five Lakes who created the process to purify the rivers. More about the woman who genetically crafted grass hardy enough to thrive in the earth. Questions about a people and a world struggling to find their way back from the brink of destruction.

I look up at the clock. Three hours have passed. I roll out my neck, trying to free the knots. Flexing my fingers that have been clutching the pencil so tight, I contemplate asking for a glass of water and decide against it. While water sounds good, I don't want to risk losing precious minutes visiting the bathroom. Not while there are questions still to be answered.

Names. Dates. Foods created. Technology lost. Failures and deaths. All the happenings that contributed to me sitting in this chair. Taking this test. My eyes are tired and fuzzy, but I force myself to focus. To answer as many questions as possible. I flip to the last page when a loud buzzer sounds.

"Time is up. Please close your booklets and put down your pencils. The officials at the door will escort you upstairs to lunch."

My leg muscles are stiff. I stand and bend my knees a couple times before I brave moving toward the exit. By the time we get up to the dining hall, my muscles are feeling more limber, but the idea of sitting down again has zero appeal. Since I know I need fuel, I fill my plate with roast beef, fresh spring greens, and slices of grilled tomatoes, and take a seat at what I now think of as our table.

If I thought the tension was bad in the Testing room, I am in no way prepared for the level of anxiety that permeates lunch. All around is chatter about the questions, the answers. Did President Dalton order the first bomb dropped on London? Did the first Stage Five earthquake plunge the state of California under water or was it the second? Tears when a candidate realizes the answers she gave were incorrect. Elation over the smallest victory. I try to ignore the emotion swirling around the room and do my best to direct my table's conversation to something other than the questions we've been asked.

Zandri is delighted to change the subject. With little prompting she talks about our brief glimpse of Tosu City and the artwork it has inspired her to create. Soon everyone in the group is talking about the interesting things they've seen since being away from home. All but Tomas. He smiles and pretends to listen, but I can see by his eyes that his focus is elsewhere. Did he blank under pressure and fail the first test? I try to catch his attention to ask in silence what I cannot ask aloud, but his gaze is firmly fixed on the lemon cake in front of him.

We are all allowed to go back to our rooms to use the bathroom. I count the corncakes again. Still nine. Then it is time for the next written test. There are freshly sharpened pencils on all of the desks. The tests are passed out. This time the title of the booklet reads Mathematics. Word for word the Testing official gives us the pre-test speech about water, bathrooms, and the time we have to take the test. The clock once again descends, and everyone opens their booklet. The sounds of pencils scratching on paper and frantic erasing accompany my work.

If I finish a question too quickly, I check and recheck my work in case the question is not as simple as it seems. If a problem takes more time, I feel each second ticking by — stealing time from the other problems that are yet to come. I refuse to look around the room for fear someone is sitting quietly at his desk with his hands folded in front of him — done. I still have three pages to go when the buzzer sounds. My heart sinks in my chest. With so many questions left unanswered, I am certain I have failed.

The Testing official directs us to our escorts. I grab my bag and resist the urge to beg for more time. Ms. Jorghen at home probably would have given it. She loved when we showed dedication and determination. Here, they just want results.

We are allowed thirty minutes to freshen up in our assigned

quarters before we report for dinner. I'd rather crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head than have to eat and face the others. It's bad enough I have to confront Ryme, who's looking as fresh-faced as she did this morning. One glance in the reflector tells me what I already know. I am a wreck.

"How did it go?" Ryme asks with a sweet smile. "I thought the history section was a bit simplistic. Didn't you?"

I think of the final page sitting blank and shrug. "I think it covered the high points."

"And the math section was long, but really — if someone doesn't know differentiation, they shouldn't be here."

The calculus section was in the middle. At least she's talking about a section that I completed.

Ryme picks up the plate of corncakes and offers them to me. I just shake my head as she puts the plate back down and continues to chatter. "I would have thought the tests would have been more challenging. How else will they weed out the people who clearly don't belong here?"

The pitying smile she gives me makes my stomach roll. There is no question who she thinks should be the first to go.

I'm relieved when the announcement for dinner is made. I barely pay attention to what I'm putting on my plate before taking my seat next to Tomas. Our other colony-mates have yet to put in an appearance. Tomas gives me a half smile. He looks tired. The same tiredness I saw in the reflector a few minutes ago.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

Silverware clanks against china. People are laughing and talking louder and louder to be heard above the din. Everyone is either bragging about their intellectual prowess or steeped in misery. No one is listening to us. I decide to be honest. "I didn't answer all the questions. I ran out of time."

His smile grows wider as he runs a hand through his hair. "I thought I was the only one. I don't know how they expect anyone to answer that many questions in four hours. I thought my brain was going to melt out of my head by the end of the math test."

I laugh and feel some of the tension leach out of my body. If someone as smart as Tomas didn't complete the tests, I doubt many did. Tomas is that smart.

Malachi, Zandri, and their roommates arrive. Worry and fatigue color their eyes, and I wonder if they, too, left pages blank. I think of how relieved Tomas was to know someone else didn't finish the exams and weigh the reaction of those listening behind the cameras that no doubt are lurking nearby. After a moment, I come to a decision. "Well, I don't know about all of you, but I didn't finish either test."

They all look at me with wide eyes, forks halfway to their mouths. After several beats, Nicolette admits, "Neither did I."