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long she might chicken out. So she asked a more important question.
    â€œHow do I get out of Clifton?”
    Ma smiled.
    â€œWhen you children began playing on this rock, Miles Clifton’s men got so upset that a couple of us decided we’d better look at it. At first we thought they were mad because it seemed to be the only place in Clifton out of range of the cameras and microphones. Then we discovered—it’s a way out that isn’t sealed.”
    Ma showed Jessie a thin crack under the rock.
    â€œBut—there are guards?” Jessie asked.
    â€œYes. You have to be careful and avoid them.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œI know,” Ma said. Her voice was sympathetic, then turned brusque, the way it did when Nathan or Bartholomew asked for more food, and there wasn’t any. “Get changed and I’ll help you through.”
    Jessie looked at the strange clothes Ma called blue jeansand a T-shirt, and swallowed a lump in her throat. She took off her bonnet and handed it to Ma, then began unbuttoning her dress. The night air was cold on her skin and she slipped quickly into the shirt. It had short sleeves and wasn’t much protection.
    â€œHere. I have a windbreaker, too,” Ma said.
    Jessie put on the strange coat, which was slippery and had long rows of teethlike bumps along the front edges.
    â€œIt’s made of something called nylon, and that’s a zipper in front,” Ma said, showing Jessie how to fasten it.
    Jessie thought she must look odd, with her woolen dress still hooked around her waist and the nylon jacket at the top. She sat down and took off her boots, then pulled off her dress and petticoat. Ma slipped the dress over a long branch.
    â€œI’m going to carry this to the cabin so people will think I’m bringing you back from the woods,” she explained.
    â€œThat’s smart,” Jessie said as she pulled on the blue jeans. The pants’ metal teeth, it turned out, were also a zipper. The trousers were a little too big, but felt stiff around Jessie’s legs. Ma handed Jessie a pair of shoes she called sneakers—funny things made of cloth, with a sole that bent. But they flapped on Jessie’s feet no matter how tightly Ma tried to tie them.
    â€œYou’ll have to keep your boots, because you may have to walk a mile or so to find a phone. I hope nobody notices your feet.”
    Jessie put her square-toed boots back on and stood up. She felt different, freer. But she missed the loose skirt around her legs.
    Ma pulled her back down to whisper, “You should unbraid your hair. I don’t know what the styles are now. You mighthave to cut it to fit in when you see. We don’t want anyone guessing you’re from Clifton.”
    Jessie yanked the pins out of her hair and it came down wavy from the braids. Ma held the lamp up to look at Jessie.
    â€œWell, you don’t look like 1840 anymore. You don’t look like 1984 either. Let’s hope you’ll do okay in 1996.”
    Ma put down the lamp and hugged Jessie long and hard. Jessie felt like crying, but she squeezed back the tears. She’d told Ma she was brave. Now she had to be.
    â€œBe careful, little one,” Ma said. Then she turned and began digging at the crack at the bottom of the rock. In a little bit, Jessie saw a round piece of rough metal. She could make out the letters MANHOLE across the rim. Ma pulled a handle at one side. Moving the lamp, Jessie could see a rusty iron ladder leading into darkness below.
    Ma kissed Jessie’s forehead and handed her the package to carry.
    â€œGo on, and I’ll cover the hole,” Ma said.
    Jessie started down the steps. The rungs of the ladder were mossy and slick. Jessie hesitated halfway down.
    â€œShouldn’t I take a lamp?” she asked. Ma held her own lamp near the hole, but its light was weak and didn’t reach the bottom of the steps.
    â€œNo,” Ma said. “That would