"I don't know what to do," I tell Roan, leaning against his chest. "We've kept Boots secret all these years, and now Cole knows, and I just don't know what she's going to do with that information."

She hasn't told anyone yet – that much is clear.

This morning passed much the same as normal. Cole made a sneering comment at Taffy in the showers, but it was halfhearted at best, and even Taffy, who normally crumples under the cruelty, was able to ignore it.

None of the Handlers approached us.

I found myself watching Cole with an eagle eye throughout breakfast, waiting for her to look at me and smirk, smug with the secret that she was holding over my head, but she didn't look at me once. She almost seemed subdued, but I don't trust it.

"What happens if the Handlers find him?" Roan asks.

"They'll throw him out. Pets are completely forbidden, no exceptions. But he won't survive on his own, and even if he could, I can't just abandon him."

Tears prick my eyes.

We've been so careful for so long, but just not careful enough.

"What if I take him?" Roan asks.

The world stops moving.

"You – what?" I sit up straighter, looking at him.

"I could take him."

"You'd do that? He's not your responsibility."

"So? I'm not going to abandon him either. Besides, I love cats."

My heart is flying out of my chest and into the sky.

"Really?"

"Yes," he laughs, kissing my nose.

Hope flares, but it's bittersweet. Of course I want Boots to be okay, and of course I will do whatever is necessary to ensure his safety, but I can't bear the thought of being parted from my sweet little cat.

"He'll still think I've abandoned him," I say, blinking back tears.

Boots sleeps in my bed every night – the thought of not falling asleep to the sound of his breathing is something I can no longer imagine. The thought of waking up to an empty bed, to not seeing his little face tucked against his paws, it wrenches at me. What will I do without him?

More importantly, what will he do without me?

I love that Roan is so willing to take Boots on, but Boots won't understand what's going on. All he'll know is that's he's being taken from his home and the people who love him. He doesn't know Roan at all.

"It's only temporary," Roan says. "Think of it as him going on holiday. I'll take him with me for the time being, and as soon as you're out of the CC, you can have him back."

It wouldn't make things easier for Boots in the meantime, but I'm not sure there's an alternative. His safety is what matters.

Something else occurs to me, and my hope withers.

"This won't work. I can't get him out of the CC," I say.

Roan frowns, thinking it over. "There's no way you could smuggle him out?"

I shake my head. "He's too big."

Roan pulls at my baggy jumper. "You sure you can't stuff him under this thing?"

"I won't get from the top floor all the way to the bottom, and then all the way out here without someone noticing. He'll wriggle too much. Could Rosie help? Is there anything she can do?"

Roan winces. "I don't know if her stuff is ready yet, but even if it is, we can't use it for this. We can't afford to make anyone in the CC suspicious by shutting down the cameras twice, not before the Trials anyway."

My first instinct is to bristle indignantly. Boots's safety means everything to me, and if there is any way of getting him out then I want to take it. Then I think of my friends, and everyone else in the CC, all the people who are depending on me and don't even know it. I think of people like Taffy and Priya, who had their rights stripped when their parents died, who became property of the government because they had nowhere else to go. I think of all the Seconds who are sent here simply for existing, and all the future Seconds who will be treated the same way.

I love Boots with my whole heart, but I cannot put him above the wellbeing of hundreds of other lives.

"I'm sorry," Roan says, perhaps interpreting my silence as anger.

"You're right," I say, even though it hurts. "I can't risk everything for my cat. It's just . . ."

"Hey, you don't have to explain it to me. I know how special pets can be, and this is a nation of animal lovers, after all."

I taste bitterness on my tongue. The people of Britain have such love for their pets, but so little for Seconds.

But I suppose I need to get used to that kind of attitude – I'll be seeing it a lot more on the outside.

"What about your friends, Sonny and Priya? Could either of them hide him for a bit?" Roan asks.

I consider it. "That might work. Smuggling him out of my room at all is a risk, but Priya's room is only three doors away from mine, so it's a lot more doable than trying to get him out of the whole building." My face falls again. "But her roommate doesn't know about Boots. Asking Priya to take care of him means bringing someone else in on the secret."

"Okay, so what's her roommate like? Would she keep the secret?"

"I don't know. She doesn't really hang around with us."

Frustration bubbles in my stomach. Every time I think a solution is presenting itself, it falls apart.

"Maybe you should talk to Priya about it. She lives with this girl, so she knows her better than you, right?" Roan says.

"Yes."

"See what Priya says. If she thinks that this girl can be trusted, then you might have to bite the bullet and trust her. If she thinks this girl can't be trusted, then we'll come up with Plan B."

"I thought Priya was Plan B."

"Plan C then. And if Plan C doesn't work, we'll focus on Plan D. We'll go through the whole alphabet if we have to."

He's right; I have to try and think positive. After all, we've managed to keep Boots hidden all these years; one way or another we can continue to do it.

But I'm still uneasy about Cole.

For the next couple of days, nothing happens. I ask Priya about the possibility of moving Boots into her room, and while she is happy to help however she can, she isn't sure about her roommate, Jackie. She tells me she's going to test the waters with Jackie first, see if she can gauge how trustworthy she is.

The delay makes me chafe, but I don't have any choice.

Taffy at least seems to have stopped worrying. She says that if Cole was going to report us, then she would have done it already, but that's what's nagging at me.

I don't believe, for a single second, that Cole would keep quiet about this out of the goodness of her heart. I also don't believe that she's really afraid of me, so that's not keeping her quiet.

Cole has never liked either of us, and this is the perfect way to hold something over us. The fact that she's apparently doing nothing makes me twitchy. It makes me think that the only reason she hasn't reported us yet is because she's planning something.

And I have no idea what.

On the morning of the third day after Cole found out about Boots, Priya sits down beside me at the breakfast table. Her face is flushed with excitement, her eyes bright.

"Jackie's in," she whispers, clutching my arm.

Jackie is sitting a few seats down; I catch her eye and she gives me a conspiratorial little smile.

My heart leaps. "Really?"

Priya nods. "I've talked her through how all it works – how we'll handle feeding him, and that he knows how to use the toilet, but we'll have to flush it for him, so our room might get a bit stinky sometimes, but she's okay with that. She's excited about it."

Excited?

I realise that Jackie probably sees this as an adventure. Like the rest of us, she has never had anything to call her own either, never had the chance to make her own choices or pursue her own interests, but this? Helping us hide Boots is something new and forbidden, a break from the monotonous, everyday life inside the CC. It absolutely isn't an adventure, but I keep quiet about that. Let her think that if that's what it takes.

I just hope that she really understands just how serious and important this is. Boots's life depends on us keeping him hidden, keeping him safe.

"And you're absolutely sure we can trust her?" I ask.

Priya gives me a look. "Have a little faith, Caia. I wouldn't have shared something like this with her if I didn't know that I could trust her."

"Sorry, I just wanted to be sure."

She gives my hand a squeeze. "I'm sure."

It feels like a heavy weight has lifted from my shoulders, as if I can breathe more freely. If Boots is out of my room, then Cole loses any leverage she might think she has over us. Even if she tells the Handlers, they won't find him.

"Okay, so as soon as rec time comes around, you'll need to smuggle him out of your room and into ours. Sonny, Taffy, Jackie, and me are all going to stand guard near the stairs and up and down the corridor so we can keep an eye out for anyone coming," Priya says.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Priya loves Boots too, but he is most precious to me, and I get a little choked up thinking about how my friends – and the girl who wasn't my friend before this but will be from now on – are banding together to help.

This is what the world outside never sees – or rather, doesn't bother to see.

Seconds are people, just like them. Yes, some of us, like Cole and Gavin, can be cruel, but most of us are just normal, decent people, who want nothing more than the same respect and freedom that everyone else.

Saying goodbye to Boots is going to hurt, but it won't be forever, and I comfort myself with the reminder that one day, I won't have to hide him anymore. One day I won't have to sneak him food and keep him shut in a single room for his whole life.

One day he'll be free too.

As soon as lunch over, I pocket some scraps of chicken – Boots will need some of his favourite food to help him settle down in a new room – and then hurry up to the fifth floor.

This situation isn't perfect, but Priya and Jackie have given me hope, and something is soaring in my chest.

They're going to follow me up in a couple of minutes – it would look too obvious if all of us came up at here at once. The last thing I want is for Cole to notice anything.

I push open my door and slip inside. "Boots," I whisper.

He usually responds to my voice, but the room is strangely silent, so perhaps he's asleep.

Something is off though, something that I can't put my finger on.

I take another step into the room, my heart starting to thunder. The air in here feels wrong somehow, askew.

Then I realise what it is.

My wooden bird is gone.

Ice creeps through my veins.

My bird is gone.

I cross to the windowsill where it normally sits, its beak turned to the outside world, its wings defiantly lifted, but the sill is bare and white. Dropping to my knees I check under my bed, even though I know it can't have fallen.

No bird.

No Boots either.

My stomach twists on itself, bile climbing up my throat. This isn't happening. Where is my cat?

I call his name again, and then stop.

There's a small shape on my bed, underneath the covers, close to my pillow, where Boots normally sleeps.

My hand shakes as I reach out and pull the covers back.

At first I think Boots is sleeping. His little body is curled in on itself, the way he normally does, but he's still – too still, and when I try to pick him up, his head lolls back on his neck.

My darling cat is dead.