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emblazoned with black scythes. I’m not sure what it means. I try to stay close to Will.
    We have to step over dried blood more than once. And yet someone has planted flowers along the edges of the sidewalk, and there are a few trees. We even pass an abandoned open place where a dilapidated sign reads P UBLIC P ARK. People used to care about these places, and surely some still do.
    I avert my eyes as we pass a black cart. The corpse collectors are out early.
    On a building directly before us there is a large, bold message scribbled in enormous letters. D OWN WITH SCIENCE . R EMEMBER G OD.
    “What nonsense,” I say, welcoming the distraction from the reality of the body cart.
    “Science has failed us,” Will says. This shocks me. How has science failed? Science saved us. “Religion failed, too,” he says. “But maybe we should try it again. I don’t know.”
    I’ve seen the graffiti, but I’ve never heard anyone question the worth of science.
    I trip over an uneven spot in the sidewalk. Will steadies me.
    “I wish you would be more careful.” The lack of teasing is notable. Not like at the club.
    Since I can’t promise that I will be more careful, I don’t answer. After a long silence he says, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about me, about my life.”
    “Who would I tell?”
    “Your rich friends? Some of the members of the club—they can be aggressive about things.”
    “What sorts of things?”
    “Prying into a person’s private life.”
    So I haven’t been the only one to notice how attractive he is. Jealousy burns through me, followed by a touch of excitement. I know things that these other girls don’t know, and he wants it to stay that way.
    We are close to the border now, where the lower city gives way to the upper city. Armed guards stand along the sidewalk. They turn toward us, but we’re both wearing masks, so there is no reason to stop us.
    The buildings here are more ornate, but storefronts are mostly closed, with windows boarded and merchandise removed. Couriers rush from place to place, hired by wealthy families to run their errands so they never have to leave their homes.
    “That’s where I live,” I say, pointing up. Mother says the Akkadian Towers were designed to emulate something from a fairy tale. There were supposed to be multiple towers, but the second building was only partially built when the plague hit.
    “Of course,” he says. “The richer you are, the farther from the ground you want to live, right?” He gives me a long searching look. “But there’s something different about you.”
    I am different. I wasn’t always rich. I’ve been hungry and afraid. But I’ve never told anyone about those days. Never spoken of the fear, or the hunger, or the way I still dread the darkness.
    I’ve never told anyone about the day my twin brother died. I think I could tell Will.
    We are directly in front of the entrance. The guard watches, frowning at Will. I avoid eye contact, hoping he won’t approach us.
    Will leans forward, pulls off his mask, and kisses my forehead. “I’m glad I was the one to save you this time,” he whispers.
    The look in his dark eyes makes me wonder what might happen if this mask weren’t covering my mouth. I have to remind myself that I’ve sworn never to kiss anyone. I break eye contact quickly, and when I look back, he just smiles.
    I imagine he’s going to say something more, but then he glances up at the building where I live, puts his mask back on, and walks away.
    The guard edges closer. “Miss Worth?”
    “Yes?” I am still watching Will.
    “Allow me to escort you to the elevator.”
    The Akkadian Towers have the only working elevator in the city. It makes the ascent to my home much too fast. What will I tell my parents? How will I deal with their accusations and worry?
    Our courier is noticeably absent in the hallway, but the door is unlocked. When I walk in, no one rushes to greet me or to ask where I’ve