In the expansive food court, everything is set up buffet-style. Trays of pizza and bowls of salad are laid out on tables that have been pushed together along one wall.

I keep looking around, waiting for more men in uniform to appear. Or new strange noises to bang or clunk in the distance. But everyone else seems to be at ease.

That worries me even more.

We grab plates and pile them high before finding places to sit.

I follow Marcy, and she follows Jenelle. Tyree skipped the salad and is already sitting, cutting into a single slice of cheese pizza with a knife and fork. There are only four seats around each square table, so Alex is sitting with another group. They smile at me as I pass by.

We sit, and as I pick up a slice of hot, cheesy pizza, orange grease drips down onto my no-longer masculinized hand. Does it seem even more feminine than before? Or is that just my imagination? Either way, I miss having the change, and I can't wait to be able to transition my own body.

Before I take a bite, I look over at Marcy. "How'd your session go?" I ask.

My timing is off. She's just bitten down on her own slice. Her eyes go to Jenelle, who half-shrugs. A hint of a smile tugs at her lips.

There's an intimacy in the look that passes between them, and I feel a twinge of something.

Jealousy?

I look between Marcy and Jenelle. They both possess a confidence that I can never seem to muster. A comfortableness in their own skin. An easy grace.

But before I can analyze this any further, Jenelle speaks, her eyes meeting Marcy's, not mine. "Your girl has a lot of potential."

The way she says your girl makes me wonder about her intentions. If she can sense how special Marcy is.

"I believe it," I say. "She's always top of the class."

And it's true. She's the type of student who starts an essay the day it's assigned. Re-reads her notes while they're still fresh to make sure they make sense. Actually goes to office hours for clarification.

"Oh, stop it," Marcy says while still chewing, rolling her eyes. "Jenelle let me try on some wearable tech, and I wasn't able to really do anything. But..." She swallows and looks at Jenelle. "I felt a spark."

My teeth clench at how she says it.

"It was your first time, and you're only nineteen," Jenelle reassures her, reaching out to squeeze Marcy's forearm. "Your frontal cortex is still developing, and it's our impulse control that interacts with wearable tech. That's why our Choosing Days are when they are, you know. Back in the day, you used to have to wait until you were twenty-five."

If Jenelle knows Marcy's age, I guess she must have told Jenelle that she escaped with me. I wonder what else they talked about this morning.

What other sparks were flying.

"Yeah," Tyree cuts in, laughing. "Not everyone can be as gifted as me."

"Ignore him," Jenelle says, shaking her head and taking her hand back from Marcy's arm. "My brother thinks he's special because he's one of the youngest here."

"Brother?" I ask.

Looking between them, I can see how they are siblings. His hair and skin are a richer brown than hers, but they both have high cheekbones and round-tipped noses. It must be nice to have family here. Family who understands you.

"Yeah," Jenelle says, "I came here about two months ago, on my Choosing Day, like most of us. But when I learned the truth, I was worried about Tyree. He's always been—"

"Fabulous," Tyree provides.

Jenelle rolls her eyes. "Different," she finishes. "Defiant. Bratty. In your face."

The way she says it lets me know they've had this exchange before. And while her words might sound harsh, they're also laced with love.

"Unabashedly fabulous," Tyree doubles-down, and he snaps his fingers for emphasis.

"And I was right to worry, because he got his hands on some contraband tech, and you know what he did with it?" She raises her eyebrows and pauses.

Marcy and I both shake our heads, but based on her tone, I'd guess it was something flamboyant and over-the-top.

She lets out a loud exhale through her nostrils. "He gave himself ridiculously long pink fingernails that changed hue with his mood." She emphasizes each word while looking pointedly at Tyree, who is quietly snickering, his fork bobbing a bite of pizza in front of his lips.

"Don't be jealous," he teases, snatching the pizza between his teeth.

"I'm not. And you were lucky I'd already put you on their radar." Jenelle takes a large bite of food. Through her bravado, it's clear that she would protect Tyree, no matter the cost.

It makes me wonder if they're so close because they both had something different about them. Some nonconformity beyond their control.

Did my mother know that there was something different about me? Has she noticed that I ran away? Is she worried about what happened?

The last day has been such a whirlwind that I haven't even thought about her, and I feel a pang of guilt.

I swallow it away.

"So, how old are you?" I ask. "Seventeen?"

"Almost," he answers, still chewing. "But I'm mature for my age."

Jenelle rolls her eyes.

The conversation pauses as we eat. There's a buzz coming from the surrounding tables and an awkwardness weighing on my shoulders. I have so many questions about biotech, and these rebels, and what life is like in this compound. Instead of asking, I just keep chewing, mulling over everything.

I'm about to make some mundane comment when Marcy speaks up. "Any idea what that interruption at the end was about?"

Jenelle shrugs. "They keep the new recruits pretty insulated from the machinery that keeps this place running," she says, waving her hand in the air. "I wouldn't worry too much."

Tyree glances around and then leans forward on his elbows. "My friend told me he saw some Luddites lurking around the parking lot the other day," he whispers.

"Don't be spreading rumors," Jenelle scolds with a shake of her head.

Tyree sits back and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not a rumor if I heard it first-hand."

"You didn't see it first-hand, and even if it's true, we don't know why they were in the parking lot," she shoots back.

I don't know what to think about this new information. Would the Luddites waste precious resources fighting against another group that was anti-city?

"Are we safe?" Marcy asks the question before I do. "We gave up a lot to be here."

"The last few years there hasn't been much trouble," Tyree says. "But I've heard stories. We can't let our guard down."

"You've heard stories? You've been here a week," Jenelle scoffs.

"People tell me things. I just have one of those faces." Tyree flashes a bright smile at his sister.

"We're safer here than in the city," Jenelle says, looking back at Marcy, her eyes softening. "I know what you said about your dad, but here there is a whole system to keep us protected."

It takes a moment for what Jenelle says to sink in. Did Marcy really tell Jenelle about her family? About their role in the government? She didn't open up to me about that for years. And she told Jenelle after a couple hours?

I'm stunned.

"A whole extra-secretive system," Tyree's voice brings my mind back to the topic at hand.

I look over to him. "Christopher said they didn't keep secrets here."

"Well, that was a big fat lie." Tyree laughs.

"True," Jenelle confirms, "but it's no secret that it takes a lot of work to keep everyone sheltered, and, well, safe from the authorities."

The pizza that I'm stuffing into my face suddenly gets very chewy. My gut flips. There is so much that I don't know.

I try to lighten the mood, "I guess, even with all the tech they have, they can't just, like, poof, make a buffet lunch appear, can they?"

"Nope," Jenelle confirms.

"But does tech make it easier? Like, can you give yourself super speed or make it so that you have eight different arms, all doing different tasks?" I ask. It sounds ridiculous, but not that crazy compared to everything else I've experienced in the past day.

Tyree laughs, but Jenelle is the one who answers. "I mean, you can enhance your own strength to a certain extent, but there are limitations. Not even gene-hacking can turn you into some superhero."

"We saw Sequoia levitate," Marcy interjects.

"Magnets," Tyree answers. "She had magnetic levitators on her shoes. And, I guess you might be able to somehow alter your genes to grow wings and turn your bones hollow so you would be light enough to actually fly, but the laws of physics would still apply. And it would take years."

Tyree tilts his head and corkscrews his mouth. After a moment, he shrugs and cuts another bite of pizza using his knife and fork.

Jenelle looks at her brother, and when it's clear he's done talking, she continues, "Technology isn't what makes this place special. And I know that there are a lot of people working on the inside to keep things running here. Like"—she lowers her voice—"you know how there are orderlies who help people escape on their Choosing Days? There are also people who work in the dorms, and food service, and transportation. I've even heard rumors that we have people working higher up in the government. And all that takes a lot of coordination here, on the ground."

I keep eating, trying to imagine how much work went into providing us this hot lunch. They couldn't just order a bunch of pies from a local pizzeria. And not only did people need to get the ingredients here, but then the food had to be prepared and served. After we are done, everything will need to be cleaned up, too.

I wonder if, once we're trained, everyone will get assigned jobs. Maybe my electrician internship won't go to waste.

"Do the authorities know about this place?" Marcy asks, never one to beat around the bush.

Jenelle chews deliberately, as if trying to choose her words carefully. She swallows but takes a sip of water before finally answering. "As far as I know, no... Not this compound, anyway."

"Mitchell, my friend," Tyree interjects, his voice hushed, "told me that years ago there was another compound. It was discovered and everyone had to flee. People were lost."

"Don't scare them." Jenelle shakes her head.

"Well, it's the truth," he snaps back.

Jenelle takes a deep breath through flared nostrils. But before she can say anything else, footsteps approach. I look up and Harry is standing next to me.

"Hey," he says. "Good lunch?"

"Yes," Marcy and I say in unison. "Thank you."

He sticks out his lower lip and nods approvingly. "After lunch, I want to show you a few things. Tips and tricks, if you will. You up for that?"

I nod.

"But," he pauses, assessing me, "before we do anything with technology, I'm taking you to get a haircut."