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thought we weren’t going to be meek anymore.”
    â€œThis isn’t meekness. This is caution. We don’t really know anything about these people. I like Winnie, but . . . you heard how she avoided answering you when you asked her about their attacks. That shit was shady, man. I don’t know. I want a better reason to trust Diego than the fact that he loves the sister you’ve only known for a day.”
    â€œWe know them better than we knew Goliath,” I reply. “And I don’t remember you hesitating to put your faith in
him
.”
    Harp’s mouth twists into an angry knot. She lies back to stare at the ceiling. I feel a rush of remorse, and I’m about to apologize, but she speaks before I’m able, and her tone is odd.
    â€œViv. We need to talk about something else.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOur faces were the only ones on the feed. You saw it. Peter’s not on there. They didn’t post his picture; they didn’t say anything about there being a boy with us, an accomplice.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo . . .” Harp sits up. “For the picture of us to exist, they watched the security feed. They saw all three of us. There’s no way they could have missed Peter. I’m worried that if they’re only looking for us, that means they’ve already got him.”
    My stomach drops. I lower myself to sit beside Harp. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything that’s happened since we escaped—my mother, Winnie, the danger we’re in—that it never occurred to me to wonder about Peter’s absence from the feed. The only thing that’s kept me from falling apart is the sliver of possibility that he is on the run, just like we are.
    â€œI can’t see what else it would mean,” Harp whispers. “If they didn’t have him, he’d be in the picture. The only other reason he wouldn’t be . . .” She shakes her head. I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t.
    â€œWhat? What’s the other reason?”
    â€œI don’t think—” Harp falters again. “I mean, there isn’t one.”
    But somehow I realize what she doesn’t want to say, and I’m torn between being so angry at her I can hardly see straight and a fear that turns my fingers numb.
    â€œThe only other reason Peter wouldn’t be in the picture,” I supply, “is if the Church isn’t looking for him. Because they don’t need to. Because he stayed behind last night to join them.”
    â€œI’m not saying that! Not exactly! I’m only saying we have to prepare ourselves for anything. Maybe Peter escaped; maybe he’s got Frick and his dad and he’s on his way to the nearest TV station to prove the Rapture was faked, to take down the Church single-handedly. That’s what I want, Viv. That’s my dream scenario. But the fact that he isn’t on the feed like we are makes me think it’s not what happened. Either he got caught, or . . . he didn’t.”
    â€œAnd if he didn’t, he’s a traitor,” I drawl. “If he didn’t, I just spent the last month batting my eyelashes at a psychopath.”
    â€œViv—”
    â€œHarp, I love you. I don’t want to fight. But you sound completely paranoid. I know you have your suspicions about Goliath, but this is Peter we’re talking about.” I shake my head. “Remember Nevada? Remember how he let that crazy Believer beat him senseless just so we could escape? If he’s working for the Church, he’s not doing a good job of it.”
    After a moment, Harp gives me a weak smile. “You’re probably right. Sorry, Viv—I’m just freaked out by the feed, I guess. I wish so hard we weren’t on it.”
    I wish it too. But at the same time I realize that all we would have had to do to continue going undetected by the Church was nothing. It was our