In life, people are often forced not to choose between good and bad, but between the lesser of two evils. I didn't want to be stuck working for Ervin, but it was worlds better than mooching off Dad. And maybe I'd actually do some good for the Fatherland.

The Carthowa gifted program taught nine young men, ranging from the class of 2498 to 2502. They were apparently the brightest students of the five years, excluding myself because I was female, and Ander and a man named Eric Lynch because they'd both been selected to go to Eastland.

I'd spent every day since the wedding at Carthowa, running errands for Ervin and helping prepare for the first day of class. 

After two days of haunting the back of the classroom and pretending not to understand Ervin's lectures, he was interrupted by Mr. Tillerson. The vice principal dragged Ervin out of the classroom, leaving me alone with the nine men.

I refilled Ervin's scotch without being asked, organized some papers, then shifted at the front of the room as the boys chatted.

Eventually one of the older boys looked up at me. "How's it going, Jeanie?"

Dr. Ervin only referred to me as Jean. And I remembered that this boy, Adam Zephen, was from the class of 2498. There was no reason he should know my nickname. But I kept my eyes lowered as I replied, "alright, Mister Zephen. How are you today?"

He grinned at one of the other boys, Killian Feefra. The two seemed to exchange a silent conversation.

Adam smirked, his light brown hair shifting on his forehead. "You know my name?"

I nodded without a word.

"You've studied the roster?" asked curly haired Killian.

"No," I managed. "Doctor Ervin mentioned it on the first day."

Again the boys shared that mental deliberation. Adam tilted his head. "He also mentioned the year I graduated, right?"

I didn't know why he cared, but it would be rude not to answer, so I nodded. "Twenty-four-ninety-eight."

His smile grew. "Think you know more of our names?"

Another nod.

"And the years we graduate?"

Nod.

"Well, go for it!" Adam urged.

I hesitated, but Killian reiterated the request. If they told Ervin I refused them, I'd be out of a job. I swallowed, keeping my eyes on my shoes. "Owen Feuilly, ninety-nine. Christopher McCarrel, oh-one. Killian Feefra, ninety-eight. Hadley Linstead, twenty-five-thousand. Adam Zephen, ninety-eight. John Brammer, oh-two. Lewis Bahoral, oh-two. Neal Casswell, ninety-nine. Eddie Marnas, oh-one." I listed their names and class years, starting from the right corner and snaking, in order, up and down the rows of desks.

Neal Casswell reached across the row to tap Adam. "She didn't even look."

Owen Feuilly smiled. "Don't have to be nervous, Jeanie. We don't bite."

"Unless you ask us to," added Hadley Linstead.

"Seriously," Adam marveled. "He said you were smart, but, this..."

He? I stepped back, wishing to be as far away from these boys and their obscure questions. Where was Ervin?

"You don't have to worry about us," Killian insisted. "I promise. We're just guys. Not like anyone would call us Heretics or anything, right?" He flashed a smirk.

My breath hitched. I raised my eyes just enough to see them all grinning at me.

"He didn't tell us," Eddie promised. "Just said you might be a good fit for our group, and we put together the rest. He denied it for months, but we knew. Finally he decided to trust us. You can too."

"How?" My voice shook. We'd always been so careful, no one at school knew, I was sure! I took a deep breath. These were Ander's friends? All rebels...

"We're in the gifted program for a reason." Lewis Bahoral shrugged. "We're smarter than the rest of the school. Because we work harder. Because we have reasons to learn."

"And Ander started acting different two years ago. We have a pretty good guess as to the reason." Adam smiled.

"Well, Ander was wrong about me," I mumbled. When would Ervin return? I wanted no part in this rebellion shit.

"If you say so." Killian leaned back in his chair.

The other eight men did the same, though most faced each other, still sending silent messages.

Finally, Ervin returned. I didn't think I'd ever been happier to see him. "Announcement, boys. One of you is in luck. One of you is going to Eastland."

A murmur broke out among the room. It took a full minute for Ervin to regain control. "Yeah. The Eastland admissions wants more than one Midland student this year."

This time, no one spoke. No one even moved. We all knew two students had been selected, Ander and Eric. Yet Ervin pretended there was only one. Which meant the other student had done something wrong. And had been Blacked-Out. Either Eric or Ander had never existed in Trujohn as far as anyone was concerned.

I glanced at the class, trying to keep my face neutral. Not one of them looked excited about their opportunity.

Which meant they must have thought the same as me.

That ember of hope within me died.

First Elaine.

Then Ander.

It was all I could do not to shatter on the classroom floor.

"So," Ervin continued, oblivious to the grief in the room, "since you're all at different stages of education, and Eastland wants the best, it seems only far to make you take a standardized test."

He handed me a stack of Testing Tablets. I stared at the devices, unable to think of what I was supposed to do with them. I could only think of Ander, the dimples I knew I'd never forget.

Neal coughed loudly.

I looked up at the boys awaiting their Testing Tablets and finally remembered. With haste, I distributed the devices.

Each boy pricked their finger on the tiny needle pointing up from the Tablet. The blood sample was what made Testing Tablets unique: they were completely anonymous. Ervin wouldn't know the scores, but they'd be sent to the Patrione along with the samples. From there, the Patri would decide who was selected, without the bias of a headmaster. Only then would he see how each student had performed.

"Let Jean take the test?" Hadley suggested.

I froze, about to return the extra Tablets.

"Why would I do that?" Ervin asked.

"Take her down a peg," he replied. "Give her real competition. Show her she didn't deserve to be Summa Cum Laude."

My neck burned. Even as I stared at the floor, I noticed Adam out of the corner of my eye, glaring at Hadley.

Your heretics not so loyal after all? Ross grumbled.

Ervin deliberated. "How would you say you'd fair on this test, dolly? Think you'd pass?"

My feet where somehow the most fascinating objects in Trujohn. "I'd try my best, sir."

"Do you think you'd pass?" he repeated.

I bit my lip. "Maybe."

"Maybe? Biggest ego I've seen on a doll in quite some time. Good idea, Linstead. Dolly, sit down and take the test. When you fail, we'll all have a nice laugh." He pointed to an open seat beside Lewis.

As I sulked to the seat, I caught a glimpse of Hadley, watching me with interest. Like a cat watching a mouse grow ever closer. He'd been in my class, so I'd personally outranked him. I recalled Ander's anger at my becoming Summa Cum Laude. If he'd harbored resentment that a Learned Female outscored him, I could only guess how bitter this man could be. I'd humiliated him. No matter how radical he was, I'd personally insulted him, and now he had the opportunity for vengeance. I doubted his fondness for Ander would spare me, and now, if I scored poorly, I'd be the class's laughingstock.

Even if I did well, I'd only be insulting the Father and the other students in the room. It wasn't as if I could be selected to leave, no matter how I scored.

And, Father, I didn't even know what the test was on!

The other boys regarded me with sympathy. No matter how impressive my little memory tricks were, I was still a girl. They still expected to outscore me.

I pricked my finger, a tiny drop of blood trailing from the needle to the Sample Receptor. A tiny crimson tear.

The Tablet lit up, presenting the first question.

I let out a sigh. The Trujohn Government? Not as strong a subject as Trujohnese History, but I'd been in a relationship with a Political Science major.

My mind drifted back to all the days spent helping Ander study, sometimes outdoing him on his own practice tests.

I inspected the first question: how many countries have agreed to participate in the Congregation?

Ander needed to memorize the list. He'd once recited it to me... Nearly all the weaker countries had been assimilated into larger territories during The War; the Trujohn borders consumed a mass of land previously known as Canada. By the end of the battles, few superpowers remained stable, and many little countries surrendered to their stronger neighbors for any hope of surviving the next centuries without assistance.

But only fifteen other countries have given any sign that they'd participate in the Congregation.

For all we knew, only sixteen countries remained.

Questions varied in difficulty, seeming to go in no particular order. For every one, I'd think back to the days spent holed up in closets together—Ander and I were always far too busy for each of our encounters to be romantic, but even studying together was more than most couples could ask for. I remembered each moment vividly, as if watching it played on a screen.

Finally, I reached the last question, though not before four boys had finished their tests, including Hadley.

I frowned.

What is the surname of the current Father?

It had to be a trick question. Every Father surrendered his birth name in order to submit his identity to Trujohn and the role he must play. Even the Great Father's mortal name had been long forgotten. So how would anyone recall the name of the current Father, a man who'd held office for longer than I'd lived?

It just had to be a trick.

But Hadley, Owen, Killian, and Adam had all finished. So they must have concocted an answer.

I tried to picture the Father, but the last time he'd been on the news would have been at least thirteen years ago. Try as I might, I couldn't even remember what he looked like; a rather uncommon occurrence. Of course my memory failed during such an important test!

So, I recalled all I knew about the current Father.

He had ruled for twenty-six years and would be well into old age. He had eight children, all sons that studied at a private school in Eastland, giving the occasional interview, but mostly staying on the sidelines. They all grew up under the last name of Fatherson, like all sons of Trujohn's Fathers.

Any daughters he might have sired were raised away from the public eye and the government, in areas more suited to their capabilities.

About twelve years ago he married his fourth wife, a woman named Gina Rice. The thirty-four year old Gina was a public figure, representing a serene face of tranquility for women, and a sleek body to hold male attention. She'd lasted the longest of the four women to take on the Father's name.

That was it.

The answer crept into my mind like the haze of dust that sometimes gathered outside my window, slowly at first, hardly noticeable, then a thick blanket.

No self-respecting married woman would ever go without undertaking her husband's name. Even if it weren't illegal, any woman would gladly change surnames, lest she risk degrading herself to the ranks of the Learned.

There wasn't any possibility that the Father's wife, model to all Trujohnese women, had retained her birth name. No. No one knew Gina Rice's maiden name, because like the Father's name, it ceased to be a part of her identity. She surely wore her husband's surname, making her one of the only major figures still using the Father's surname. While it was supposed to die with him, it lived on in his wife.

I typed the four letters and hit the Next arrow. My Testing Tablet shut down, my blood sample, and my answers, concealed behind a black screen.

(I'm sorry!!!! I know, I know, it's been absolutely forever! I don't honestly know what happened. I think my writing brain went on vacation after I finish Crown of Thorns.

I hope you haven't forgotten about Jeanie, though. Hope you liked the new characters.

I wish I could promise when the next chapter will be out, but unfortunately I can't. Again, sorry for the delay.))