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under this arch, which has always been here.
    The parking lot only has a few cars in it. But this evening, Oskar has told me, is the Institute’s big Spring Meeting. That’s why he wanted me to go in today. The security guard comes out of the lodge and walks toward the gate, his walkie-talkie crackling in the quiet afternoon.
    â€œAnd you are?” he barks.
    â€œVerity Nekton.” My voice sounds loud and clear, as if it’s true. My heart thumps.
    I hold out the letter Oskar gave me and the guard studies it. A brown-and-white spaniel walks up behind him and sniffs my hand through the rails. It’s not much of a guard dog. It gives my knuckles a quick lick. The gate slides open, then clangs shut behind me.
    I’m alone now. The Brotherhood don’t trust television or computers. But they seem to have no problem with security cameras and signal-blocking technology. Even if I had a cell phone, I wouldn’t be able to use it in here. Oskar feels very far away already. I must remember his warning about sticking to my story: You’re in real danger if they find out, K. You’re pretty isolated in there. I focus on the dog to calm my breathing. The white line down to its nose gives its chocolate eyes a sad and thoughtful look. Its tail wags slowly but hopefully. It’s going to be OK. And at least I won’t have to read or hear about terrorist threats every day. They don’t do news here. You see, Oskar? I did read the Manual.
    Even before I walk through the glass doors into the lobby, I can see that this is nothing like any school I’veever been in before. The smell hits me first, an ancient reek seeping from the oak paneling and the worn flagstones. Lavender polish too. A staircase with scrolled wooden banisters sweeps up to the floor above. It’s so quiet that I can hear the solemn ticking of an ornate clock over the high-backed bench against the wall. Then I see a boy standing by the door opposite. All my calmness vanishes and I freeze. It can’t be , I tell myself. But I look again and it is: it’s the boy I collided with at the train station, before the bomb. Does he recognize me? Nausea floods my throat. Get a grip, K. I look up and our eyes meet. His are chestnut brown, I see now, and surprisingly warm. But they flick over me without recognition. I let myself breathe out.
    â€œAre you all right?” He’s so sure of himself, entirely at home, while I am on foreign ground.
    Pull yourself together, K! I manage to nod.
    â€œYou are Verity, aren’t you?”
    I nod again.
    He shrugs. “OK, well, Brer Magnus asked me to show you to the Sisters’ house.” He steps forward to hold the door open and reaches out his hand for my suitcase. “Shall I take that?”
    â€œNo!” I say. Then I remember what Oskar said: “Be friendly, K.” I take a deep breath. “Thanks, though.”
    He shrugs again, and turns away. “Sure.”
    I follow his red-checked shirt out of the lobby and across a grass quadrangle in front of a canteen with long glass doors. The Institute isn’t one building at all, but rather a series of jumbled buildings connected by walkways and paths, everything hidden behinda wall or glimpsed through an archway. I know why they wear red check. It was the pattern favored by the Brotherhood leader, Antonius Nekton, on his battle standard four hundred years ago, when they last won control of the country. He was a nice man who burnt non-Brotherhood citizens at the stake.
    I hurry to keep up, bumping the suitcase over cobbles, struggling with my skirt. This doesn’t feel like a school to me, more like an old stately home. I wonder what it’s like during the day, when the pupils are all here. The boy’s dark hair is cut in the Brotherhood style, so short that I can see the lighter skin where it’s been shaved at the back of his neck. I think of Oskar’s blond hair that comes down to his