When Eli and I enter the city, it's past noon, but the sun is still high in the sky. Only a few clouds brush against the expansive blue. It's a beautiful day for a parade.

I look both ways when we emerge from the hedges that block off the gap in the border fence. When I am sure no one is around, I stand up and straighten out my navy blue jumpsuit and wipe the dirt off my knees. Then I step off the retaining wall and down to the street.

Eli hops down behind me, then stomps his work boots a few times to rid his soles of clinging mulch. He takes off his hat to wipe his brow before putting it back over his newly cut hair.

Even though he refused to try a halo-mask, he still looks almost unrecognizable from when I met him yesterday. He's trimmed his beard and cut his Luddite-long hair. And although he doesn't quite have the Dimstad-good-looks of a man a decade past his Choosing Day, he'll pass.

Eli looks around, then turns to me. "We're here?"

"Well, this is the city," I say, keeping my voice low. "But the tram stop is a few blocks this way."

I lead him down the sidewalk and around the corner. My eyes dart over to the grate that Marcy and I used when we escaped. To the blank wall above it. A small part of me wishes we'd brought spray paint so I could replicate Harry's tag. The mark he always left there, even though he knew the city would paint over it within a day.

Eli doesn't notice what I'm looking at, and I don't point it out, either.

When we reach the tram stop, it's more crowded than I expect in the middle of the day. Isn't it too early for people to be heading to the parade? Maybe people are worried about getting a good view?

I bump Eli's shoulder and nod over at a brick wall that we can lean against while we wait.

The bricks are warm against my back and I focus on taking deep breaths, on staying calm, on keeping my halo-mask synced with my facial muscles, as the crowd around us buzzes.

I try not to think about how this plan isn't fully baked.

How it's raw in the middle. It looks good on the surface. Golden-brown on top. But if I stuck a knife in it, the tip would come out covered in gooey dough.

My injuries are healed, thanks to that emergency NanoPen. I am wearing a halo-mask that matches a cloned ID card. Eli and I have city maintenance worker disguises and very convincing-looking badges. And Marcy told us about the building and the floor where Harry is being held.

But we don't have the right security clearances. And we don't have an escape plan.

The whole time we drove in Eli's rusted pickup truck to the city gate, I had a pit in my stomach. And now that we are standing on the curb waiting for the tram, I still can't shake the feeling.

I purposely didn't say good-bye to anyone. Or tell them what I'm doing. Not Renee, or Alex. Not anyone. No reason for them to worry all day.

This is my third trip to the city in about a week. You'd think I'd be an expert now. But those last two experiences gnaw at me.

I barely escaped either time.

Harry didn't make it out the first. I was seriously injured the second. What is going to happen this third time?

Maybe I don't want to think about it.

People around us shuffle towards the curb and I see the tram coming down the track, the sun glinting off its metallic roof.

It glides up to the stop and Eli and I get pushed apart as the crowd around us presses together and funnels into a line up the front steps to board. I shuffle forward with the masses and when it's my turn, I click my ID card on the reader.

It doesn't beep.

Shit.

The driver gives me a bored look and my stomach clenches.

Someone behind me mumbles, "Aw, come on."

"I-I don't know..." I apologize as I press the plastic card against the reader a second time.

I hold my breath.

Beep.

I let out an exhale and walk down the center aisle of the tram.

"Saved you a seat," Eli says in front of me.

"How'd you...?" I ask, eyes darting around as I slide next to him.

He shrugs and his eyes glance at the rear doors. "Took a shortcut."

I nod.

Pretty brazen for someone who didn't even know where a gap in the border fence was.

Then we sit in silence as the tram car fills up. By the time it lurches forward, all the seats are gone and at least a dozen people are standing, gripping onto the polls as the tram sways on its tracks towards the next stop.

Within three or four stops, the tram is packed tight.

Every once in a while, I hear a snippet of conversation. Out of context, most of it is banal gibberish. A comment about the weather. Two people discussing a game. A few mentions about the Unity Day Parade. But then I hear something that catches my interest: "You think those protesters will try to interrupt the parade?"

I glance around, trying to see who spoke. Strain my ears for a response.

One doesn't come.

But it's proof that we made some sort of impact.

As the tram comes to another stop, I lean forward in my seat with the motion. I look over at Eli. His eyes are staring at the map on the wall. I wonder if he's been back since his escape.

His inexperience better not get us both killed.

"Only a few more stops," I mutter in his direction.

Eli looks over at me and nods.

People shuffle around as a group pushes by to exit the rear doors and more passengers board. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the movement of mousy-brown hair streaked with gray.

My stomach clenches as I turn for a better look.

Mom?

I stare at the back of the familiar head. The loose shoulder-length hair that brushes against a pastel-floral top.

Between the jumpsuit and the halo-mask, my disguise is flawless. But even without it, would my mother recognize me anymore? My body's physical changes are no longer temporary tech enhancements. The gen-mods have altered my naturally produced hormones. Nevermind the new sprouts of hair, my fat deposits have shifted and my muscle mass has grown, changing my body's silhouette. My voice is now raspy.

If she saw me, if she recognized me, would my mother understand?

Would she accept me like this?

Maybe it's better that I haven't reached out to her since I disappeared on my Choosing Day.

But if she is here, right now, so close, don't I have a duty to say something? Anything?

Eli bumps my shoulder, interrupting my spinning worries. "Next stop, right? Should we stand?"

I look out the window and realize that he's right. I nod. Grasping the pole that connects to the seat in front of us, I stand. When I move, the woman I've been staring at shifts her stance and I catch her profile.

It's not my mother.

My stomach churns. But not in relief. In disappointment.

I take a deep breath, exhaling my feelings away. There isn't time for these thoughts. We are about to try to infiltrate a high security holding area with nothing more than generic jumpsuits, counterfeit badges, and all the charisma we can muster.

There is no room for distraction.

The tram stops and the doors fold open. Eli and I step down on the cement island in the middle of the boulevard and walk to the crosswalk. When the light changes, we cross to the side of the street where we're headed.

All the office buildings have their own unique look. Some are nothing but towers of reflective glass. Others boast ornate stonework. But I've never been here–to this building where Marcy's father works–so my eyes focus on the prominent address numbers.

I must be walking too slowly, because someone jostles my shoulder as they pass. My chin swivels around, but before I can glare at whoever bumped into me, I see Eli is ahead of me.

He's never been here before either. Probably hasn't even stepped foot in this city in over a decade, yet he exudes a casual confidence. He's practically swaggering.

As I pick up my pace to close the distance, he approaches another man clad in a blue jumpsuit.

"Hey brother," Eli greets the stranger.

The man, an inch taller than Eli and several pounds heavier, nods in response.

"Too damned nice of a day to be working, huh?" Eli laughs.

"I'll take it over last year, though," the guy says with a shrug.

"True that," Eli says and pats the guy's shoulder. "That rain was fucking miserable."

The guy grunts in agreement.

How does Eli know it rained last Unity Day? Maybe farmers pay closer attention to the weather? Or is he just guessing? The bigger mystery is: how is he able to strike up a conversation so easily?

I keep a few steps behind, my mouth shut, my eyes still scanning the building numbers as they continue to chitchat.

When we reach a building that is set back from the sidewalk and has a flight of stairs leading to a column-flanked entrance, Eli pauses and glances back to me.

I look at the building number and confirm with a nod that this is it. This is the building where Harry is being held.

Eli slaps the stranger's back. "Hope you don't sweat your balls off today."

"You either, man," the guy responds as he continues to another building.

Marcy told us that extra maintenance crews would be on hand in all the government buildings to set up barricades, keep the streets clean, and make sure everything runs smoothly for the grand procession. So, I hope it's not suspicious that we are turning here, while this other worker continues to another location.

I take a deep breath. We've reached the heart of the city without being detected. But this is where the plan starts to get gooey. Where our rushing to save Harry is going to cost us. I just hope it's not going to cost us our lives.