Nurse Barrett doesn't say it, but she seems faintly annoyed to see me back. I showed no signs of a concussion yesterday, so she must've thought that she was done with me.

She checks me over, but it feels perfunctory, like she's just going through the motions.

"Have you been eating properly?" she says.

I smell coffee on her breath; that's good. Hopefully she's still drinking it and hasn't finished it already.

"Eggs for breakfast, and chicken with rice for lunch," I reply.

She narrows her eyes. "Do you need a pregnancy test?"

I almost choke on my own breath. "What?"

She gives a thin little smile. "You're a Second, Caia. You more than anyone should appreciate that birth control is not absolute."

"I'm not . . . I've never . . ." My skin feels hot and tight, because I've never even come close to sex, but now she's brought it up I can't stop thinking about it, and Roan, and my face is burning like the sun.

"Hmm."

Okay, this isn't the way things were meant to go. I need to get this back on track.

"I didn't . . . I didn't sleep well last night," I say, biting my lip and looking up at her. "I kept thinking Gavin was going to come back. I kept having horrible nightmares."

"The boy who hit you? I understand that he's currently in Isolation. You have nothing to worry about."

"Every time I close my eyes, I see him," I say, twisting my hands together. "I know he can't get to me, but I can't stop thinking about it, and if I try to sleep then I dream about him, and –" I break off with a sob.

Maybe I'm laying it on a bit thick, but it's clear that Nurse Barrett isn't in this job because she really cares about the health and wellbeing of Seconds. I'm gambling that if I play it just right, she'll give me what I want just to shut me up.

"Can I . . ." I peek up at her, my whole face wobbling. "Can I take a sleeping pill? Like the ones my roommate has? She always says that they get rid of her nightmares."

Nurse Barrett purses her lips. "I'm not sure that's really necessary."

"Please," I say, and my voice cracks. "I'm so exhausted and I just want to sleep, but I can't . . . and . . . and . . ." I dissolve into sobs, burying my face in my hands so she can't see I'm not crying actual tears.

"Oh for goodness' sake," she mutters, so low that I'm not sure whether or not I was meant to hear it. She raises her voice. "Fine."

I'm pretty sure, based on what Taffy's said, that this wouldn't have worked on the outside. Nurses out there aren't going to cave to the pressure of a crying teenager, but things are different in the CC. For the first time, I'm glad.

I want to watch Nurse Barrett fetch the pills so I know exactly where she keeps them, but it might look suspicious if I stop crying the second I get what I want, so I keep my face buried in my hands. I try to peek through my fingers, but her back is to me; I can't see what she's doing.

I feel a twinge of panic. I'd hoped to see where she kept them so that, if this plan falls to pieces, I'll know where they are if I need them again.

The nurse marches back over to me, holding a white blister pack of pills. "One of these will put you out for about four hours. No dreams of any kind," she says, and her tone of voice makes it clear that she thinks I'm wasting her time.

She pops a pill out of the pack and hands it to me. "You can only have one, otherwise you'll sleep through dinner."

This is where I have to be very careful. I put the pill in my mouth and make a show of trying to swallow it, while trying not to. I've seen Taffy take these things before; they work fast. If I accidentally swallow one, then I'll be asleep in a minute or two, and I won't wake up for hours.

Tucking the pill under my tongue, I gag and choke, then spit the pill into my hand.

"What's wrong now?" Nurse Barrett snaps.

"I can't swallow it dry," I say plaintively.

Her face tightens. "I'll get you some water."

She stalks towards her office, and I let her get as far as opening the door before I say, "Taffy always told me that milk makes pills go down better. That's what she used to do . . . before the fire."

I hate using my best friend like this, but Taffy will never know, and it's for her benefit in the long run. If I can help Roan and Beyond bring down the CC, then we'll all be free, Taffy included.

"Well, that's tough, I don't have any milk here," Nurse Barrett says.

"Then can I get some from the mess hall?"

I'm not supposed to go in there at this time, and we both know it, and even though it's only for something as harmless as getting a glass of milk, I'm hoping that the nurse won't risk letting me break the rules.

I hope right.

Her mouth puckers into a hard little shape. "Since you're not allowed in there at this time, I suppose I'll have to fetch it for you, won't I?"

I say nothing, just look at her with big, sad eyes. She probably thinks I'm a complete idiot, but I really don't care, not as long as this works.

Nurse Barrett shakes her head. "Sixteen years old and acting like a toddler," she mutters, and this time I'm definitely supposed to hear it.

I duck my head and stare at the floor.

Still muttering under her breath, the nurse stalks out of the infirmary, locking the door behind her. That's okay; I don't need to get out yet anyway.

As soon as I hear her footsteps fade away, I jump off the bed and hurry into her office. When she'd opened the door a couple of minutes ago, I'd seen what I needed to – the mug on her desk. If there's coffee in it, I can put the pill straight in that, and if she hasn't already made her coffee, then I'll have to put the pill in the kettle or the coffee-maker, or whatever she's using. She has to be using something – the mess hall is at the other end of the CC, and I'm pretty sure she's not walking all that way every time she wants a coffee. Besides, she went to her office to get water, so she must have facilities of some sort in here.

Her mug sits on the desk, and luck is with me – it's still three-quarters full of steaming coffee. Excitement fizzes in my chest. This is working.

I place the pill on the desktop and, taking off one of my shoes, I put my hand inside it, position it over the pill, and press down with all my weight, crushing the pill to powder. One of these will put someone to sleep for about four hours, but I won't need that much time, so I use the edge of my hand to sweep about half the crushed pill into my palm and then I sprinkle it into the coffee. Two hours is more than enough. I use a pencil from the little pot on the desk to stir the drink until the white powder has disappeared, and I sweep the rest of it into my pocket and use my sleeve to wipe any traces from the desk.

Then I scurry out of the office and back to the bed that Nurse Barrett left me sitting on. My heart thrashes in my throat. Everything is going exactly as planned, but I can't get complacent. It could all still fall apart.

I wait until the nurse strides back in, a glass of milk in one hand. She practically pushes it at me.

"Better?" she says.

I just nod. I'd hoped that she wouldn't watch me take the pill, but she stands there, staring at me with her arms crossed, so I have no choice but to raise my hand to my mouth, moving so fast she can't see that my hand is actually empty, and then take a long sip of milk.

She gives a nod of approval, then takes the milk and puts it on a nearby counter, still watching me.

I've seen Taffy take these pills so many times in the past; I know how it looks when they kick in. Lying back on the bed, I take deep even breaths and let my eyelids start fluttering. I relax my whole body, slowly counting down from ten, and then close my eyes in what I hope is a convincing sleep.

After a few heartbeats, I hear Nurse Barrett's footsteps moving into her office. She closes her door behind her, which I'd hoped she wouldn't do. I need to know when she falls asleep, and I can't risk getting up to check only to find out that she's still awake.

I count off the minutes in my head. I'd smelled coffee on her breath when I first came in, and her mug was still mostly full, so I can safely assume she'd only just started drinking it. Therefore, she'll probably carry on soon enough.

Four minutes pass, then five, then six.

Is that long enough?

I don't know.

I lie in bed and agonise over it. I can't see through a closed door, and when I strain my ears, I pick up no signs of movement. But that doesn't mean Nurse Barrett is asleep yet.

There's one way to find out.

As quietly as possible, I climb out of bed and tiptoe to the nearest cabinet on the wall. I open the door, then close it again, not a full slam, but loud enough that the nurse will be able to hear it. Then I fling myself back onto the bed, rearranging myself into the same position I'd been in, and closing my eyes.

Another minute ticks past.

Then two.

No one comes out of the office.

I crack open an eye again, looking towards the door. There's no way the nurse wouldn't hear that if she's still awake, and if she's awake then she would come out to see what's going on.

Right?

There's only one way to find out.

I climb off the bed again and creep to the office. My heart is sitting in my mouth, pounding on my tongue, as I crack open the door and peek inside.

Nurse Barrett is asleep at her desk, her head resting on one arm.

It worked.

It actually worked.

It doesn't look like she's drunk much of her coffee, so I won't have the full two hours to explore Records, but it's better than nothing. I'll just have to snoop quickly.

But before I leave, I take the mug, carry it through to the infirmary, and tip it down the little sink in the corner. Hopefully, Nurse Barrett won't think there's anything too suspicious about falling asleep in the middle of the day, but she'll definitely notice if it happens again. Her coffee will have gone cold by the time she wakes up, so she probably won't drink it anyway, but I don't want to take that chance. If she wakes up and it's all gone, I'm hoping that she'll just think she drank it.

I put the mug back on the desk, and quietly close the door.

So far, so good, but now comes the riskiest part of all.

I tiptoe to the infirmary door, open it and peer out.

The corridor is empty. I noted yesterday that although there are cameras at regular intervals, their red lights like greedy little eyes, none of them are pointing this way. They all face down the length of the corridor, so they can see anyone approaching. The Handlers are so focused on making sure that no one can sneak down here without being seen, that they haven't considered what might happen if someone is already down here.

It's a silly, arrogant mistake, and one I'm going to use to my full advantage.

I close the infirmary door and cross the short distance to Records. The white door stares back at me, the name printed on it in thick black lettering. To the best of my knowledge, no Second has ever been in this room.

Nerves gather in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

There's no lock on this door, just as there are no locks on the door of the laundry room or our bedrooms. Sonny thinks it's because the Handlers want to see who will obey the rules about not going into these places, and who will try their luck without locked doors.

But if they wanted to test us with this room, they should have considered aiming a camera at it.

My hand reaches for the door-knob, but then I hesitate. The part of me that has always obeyed the CC's rules can't help recoiling from the fact that I'm about to break a major one.

I know there's no guarantee that I'll find anything useful in here.

I've pinned so much hope on this, and at the same time I have to remember that it might be a dead end.

But it's also the best chance that I've got, and I can't let it slip through my fingers.

Steeling myself, I open the door.