Rena wouldn't slow down until they were all well inside of the city, with no indication of pursuit. Fields of dirt and rusting metal contraptions, surrounded by chain-link fences, gave way to concrete buildings with broken out windows. Then old brick structures appeared, with faded business signs and peeling paint. The structural beams of the Canopy were lower over the Outskirts. Most citizens were grateful that it shielded the city from the harsh environment. Channeled rainwater to useful locations. Provided warmth for everyone who lived beneath it. To Rena, it felt like a cage.

As they moved inward, the ceiling rose higher above them. The air grew warmer. The streetlights on every corner began flickering to life now that the sun was down. Broken sidewalks and crumbling asphalt gave way to maintained streets dividing neighborhoods of single-story houses.

Kirti lived farther in than either Dal or Rena. By the time they reached her place—an apartment in a fancy, three-story brick building with carved stone accents—she seemed to have recovered from the afternoon's unusual event. Her large, brown eyes had cleared. Rena couldn't even tell she'd been crying. Her long, black hair looked as straight and beautiful as ever. Even her clothes were still immaculate.

"My parents are going to kill me," she said, looking at the 000 on the back of her hand.

Rena brushed at the dirt on her own pants. There were stains on the knees that begged for an explanation. "I'll give you some of my credits."

"Me too," Dall added.

"No. That's alright. I should have known better than to ..."

To leave the city? Rena wondered. To go out into the Barrens? To hang out with you? To make friends below my rating? Kirti's unfinished statement left an awkward silence, and Rena wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the rest of it. "I'm sorry."

Kirti didn't acknowledge the apology. Instead, she smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her thin, white jacket, took a deep breath, and turned to walk up the front steps. When the ornate door closed behind her, Rena looked over at Dal.

His lips were pressed together. "She'll get over it."

"I hope so."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, heading back out to the neighborhood where they both lived. Rena looked up at the framework of the Canopy. The metal lattice structure was slightly darker than the semitransparent panels revealing the dark gray of the cloudy sky above them. In another hour, none of it would be visible. That was Rena's favorite time of the day, when it felt like there was no Canopy at all. No enclosure to hold her. No ceiling to indicate how far away from society's center she really was.

"How did you do that?" Dal asked, breaking the silence.

Rena didn't have to ask him what he was talking about. She'd been wondering that herself. "I don't know."

"I mean, those guys were huge. And dangerous."

"Yeah."

"So? Why didn't you run?"

"Why didn't you run ... and get the police like I told you?"

Dal brushed his shaggy, blond hair away from his eyes. "The police don't patrol the Outskirts anymore. It would have taken me an hour to find someone. And then I saw that guy grab you."

"He was about to let us go when you came barging in. I had it under control."

"How?" Dal asked, turning to walk sideways so he could face her. "That's what I don't understand. How could anyone have a situation like that under control?"

Rena stared at the sidewalk as she remembered the words that had suddenly come into her mind. People may try to hurt you. Why? Was he speaking about specific people? Was it something about Rena he knew people wouldn't like? Or maybe it was just a general warning.

"I don't know. It was like I'd been in that situation before. I just ... saw what to do and I did it."

Dal exhaled and slid his hands into his pockets. It was something he did every time he got uncomfortable. Those occasions were becoming infrequent these days, as he seemed to care less and less about what other people thought of him. But it still happened when the subject of Rena's past came up. He was protective of her, and the thought of what she might have gone through as a child, what she couldn't remember, bothered him. It was cute. It reminded her of the day she first met him.

Dal had been eight, Rena only seven years old. She'd just been adopted by Marshall and Clarine and brought home to their house. It was the first time she'd ever ridden in a cab, and one of the few times her parents had spent money for transportation instead of walking home from the transit station. Dal was playing in his front yard at the end of the street. When Rena climbed out of the cab, he stopped what he was doing and stared at her. A few seconds later, he waved. Rena didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. Dal stuck his hands in his pockets and pretended to look away until Marshall and Clarine escorted Rena into their house. Now Dal was seventeen, and aside from being taller, he still looked like that little boy in his front yard, unsure of what to do with himself.

They reached the corner of their street and came to a stop. Dal seemed like he wanted to say something, but he just smiled.

"See you tomorrow?" Rena asked.

Dal nodded and turned down the sidewalk.

Rena watched him for a few seconds before she crossed the street, heading for the third house from the corner. A short, metal gate opened to a concrete walkway across a small front yard of grass. Her parents' home was a freestanding structure, painted light blue—one of five approved colors for this neighborhood. While not as desirable as the multi-unit buildings closer to Esh's Center, it was a decent place to live. The adults did what they could to keep it that way, and voting to limit the paint choices gave the neighborhood a sense of order. Rena didn't much care for any of the colors. They were too bright. But it was none of her business. She wouldn't need to worry about things like that for over a year.

As she grabbed the handle of her plain, white front door, a sensor recognized the implant in her hand and unlocked it. The door swung inward and right away, Rena smelled the familiar aroma of vegetable soup. Clarine always kept dinner simple during the week. After work, she only had an hour or so to pick up Suzanne from daycare and Gareth from school, get them home, and put together a quick meal before Marshall came home. There wasn't enough time for anything elaborate, not that they could have afforded it anyway. Credits were always tight.

Gareth was sprawled out on the living room floor. The five-year-old had his markers scattered across the carpet, most of them with their caps off. He was so focused on his artwork that he didn't even look up when she walked over to him.

Rena tilted her head to get a better look at the building he was coloring. "Hey, cutie."

Gareth smiled, but he still didn't look up.

"What are you working on?"

"My house."

Judging by the number of windows, the building was about forty stories tall. It would have fit in perfectly at the Center, where canopyscrapers were the norm. "You plan on being a highrate when you grow up?"

"Yep," he answered without a second's hesitation.

"Rena?" her mom called.

Through the doorway into the kitchen, Rena could see Suzanne in her high chair. She had something orange all over her face. A second later, Clarine peeked out from behind the doorframe. "Where were you?"

"I went out for a run." It wasn't technically a lie.

"Your dad's almost home. We'll eat in about ten minutes."

"OK. I'm just going to clean up," Rena said, turning to head down the hallway toward her room at the back of the house.

"What happened to your pants?"

Rena stopped and looked down at her knees. "Oh yeah. I tripped in the grass at the commons. Too many people there today." That was a lie.

"Oh. Well ... try to rinse them out before you throw them in the laundry. I don't want them to stain."

"OK," Rena said, already walking down the hall. She went straight into the bathroom and locked the door. When she reached to turn on the faucet, she noticed dried blood on her fingers.

Mine or theirs?

As she leaned forward to get a better look, something clanked against the edge of the countertop. She glanced down and realized it had come from the front of her jacket.

The knife!

She must have put it in her pocket as she ran away from the Barrens. Why hadn't she noticed it until now? She reached into her jacket and pulled out a narrow strip of metal about twice the length of her hand. It was a piece of scrap that looked like it had been torn off a machine. The dull half was wrapped with some sort of twine, serving as a handle. The sharpened half was covered in dried blood.

She ran it under the water to wash off the blood, then set it on the counter while she took off her jacket and inspected it. Fortunately, the fabric was dark blue. But the inside of the pocket was purple where it had soaked up blood from the knife. There were even a few spatters on her sleeve. She rinsed those areas before removing her shoes and pants. The only stains she found there were from the dirt and weeds of the Barrens. Once her clothing was free of any signs of the afternoon's incident, she washed her face and hands. Then she concealed the knife in the bundle of her clothes and hurried across the hall to her bedroom. She hid the weapon under her mattress and threw her clothes in the laundry basket before sitting down on her bed to catch her breath.

Her heart was thumping in her chest as though she were in the middle of a workout. Dal was right. How could anyone have a situation like that under control? Had she done that before? Fought with grown men? Was that why she couldn't remember much of anything from the first seven years of her life? Anything before the police found her in that dumpster in the alley?

"Clarine?"

It was Rena's dad. His muffled voice had come from down the hall. Rena hadn't even heard him come in.

"Clarine?" he called again. "Come out here, please."

Rena went to her door and opened it just enough to peek out into the hallway. She could see that the front door was open. Marshall was standing in the entry with two police officers. He still had his jacket draped over his arm—he'd just gotten home from work but hadn't made it all the way inside the house yet.

"Marshall. What's going on?" Clarine asked, walking toward the door with a towel in her hand.

Rena closed her bedroom door and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from her dresser. She knew exactly what was going on. Kirti had told her parents about the stolen credits and her parents had 'versed the police.

That was fast!

"Rena Waite! Come out here, right now!" It was Marshall's voice again, more upset than she'd ever heard him.

"Coming!"

"No. Right now!"

As soon as she was clothed, Rena opened her door. The police officers were now standing inside, but the front door was still open. Clarine was asking them to come into the living room and sit down.

"No, thank you, ma'am. We just need to speak with your daughter."

Marshall glared down the hallway at Rena. His eyes were squinting in that frustrated expression he got sometimes. He was a patient man, but this was too much for him. He tossed his coat toward the couch and motioned with his finger for Rena to come.

There was no way of getting out of this one. That much was obvious. Rena took a deep breath and walked down the hall. As she approached the group of adults, she noted her mom's disappointed frown. Clarine helped Gareth pick up his markers and go into the kitchen with Suzanne.

"Rena," Marshall said, "these officers are here to ask you some questions. You're going to answer every single one."

"No lies," Clarine added, looking back over her shoulder.

Rena nodded.

"Hi, Rena. I'm Officer Dougherty," said the tall one, extending his hand. He had black hair and a pudgy face.

Rena shook his hand.

"This is Officer Naylor."

Rena shook Naylor's hand as well, noting the scar running through his left eyebrow. She wondered what had caused it.

"We understand you were out in the Barrens earlier this afternoon. Is that correct?"

Rena nodded.

"Speak up," Marshall said.

"Yes, sir," Rena answered the officer.

Dougherty lifted one of his hands and turned it palm upward. A holographic display of text appeared in the air above it—the report he was assembling on the incident. Most citizens couldn't afford an implanted connection device, called an interminal, but police officers needed them. The risk of losing or damaging an exterminal was too high. "You were there with a Ms. Kirti Vasu and a Mr. Dalyn Rigby. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what were you doing out there?"

"I found an old, dead tree, and I wanted to show them."

Clarine came back from the kitchen with her forehead scrunched into dozens of intersecting wrinkles.

"So, you've been out there more than once?" Officer Dougherty asked.

"Yes, sir. I go there sometimes to run."

Dougherty nodded as he watched the report update itself based on Rena's answers. Then he looked up. "Are you aware that Commons Three is nearby? It would be a more appropriate location for exercise."

Rena glanced at Marshall. He and Clarine contributed to the Commons Maintenance Association for just that reason. "Yes, sir. I go there sometimes as well," she said, looking back to the officer. "But it's crowded and ..."

Officer Dougherty didn't wait for her to find the words. "Well, as I'm sure you're now aware, the Barrens are quite dangerous. Even the Outskirts are becoming unsafe."

"Yes, sir—"

"Rena, what happened?" Clarine asked.

Marshall held up his hand. "Clarine, let the officers handle this."

Rena's dad was usually the first to jump in and take charge of a conversation. His deferring to the police officers was either a demonstration of his respect, or a sign that his frustration was beyond his control, causing him to give up. Rena hoped it was the first one.

Officer Dougherty nodded before looking back at Rena. "So, you went there to show them this tree. What happened after that?"

Rena recounted the afternoon's events, all the way up to their running back inside the city. She was careful to put all the details in chronological order so she wouldn't get in any more trouble than she already was. By the time she finished, Clarine had her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. Marshall was massaging his forehead.

Officer Dougherty glanced up from his report and nodded for the hundredth time. "It looks like another unit is just finishing up at the scene. They found blood from the assailants, but no weapon. Do you have the knife?"

"Yes, sir."

"RENA!" Clarine said.

Marshall didn't bother restraining her this time. He seemed just as shocked, turning away from the conversation and putting both hands on his hips.

"Get it, please," Dougherty said.

Rena walked down the hall and into her bedroom. As she reached under the mattress, she could hear Marshall talking to Officer Dougherty.

"Who were these people?"

"Outliers, most likely. It's getting worse every year."

"But why would they need credits?" Clarine asked.

"Ma'am," said Officer Naylor, finally joining the conversation. "Unfortunately, there are people in our community who give their purchased goods away in exchange for stolen credits. It undermines our entire economy."

Rena realized she had forgotten to tell them that the assailants had ratings. They were citizens, not Outliers.

"If this upsets you as much as it does us," Officer Dougherty added, "I would encourage you to get involved in public safety matters. Our hands are tied unless we get the support we need to address these concerns. Most citizens don't want to think about it until something like this happens."

"Yes, of course. We'll do that," Marshall said.

Rena walked back down the hall and handed the knife to Officer Dougherty. She was about to tell him the missing detail about the assailants when her dad interrupted.

"Is this going to affect our ratings?"

Dougherty inspected the knife before handing it to his partner. "Naylor. We're almost done here. Why don't you wait outside for me?"

Officer Naylor nodded before stepping out and shutting the front door.

When he was gone, Officer Dougherty turned to Rena's parents. "Unfortunately, the incident this afternoon will reflect negatively on your ratings. I'm sure you're well aware that having a weapon of any kind is illegal. However, since your daughter turned over the knife, I'll consider that when submitting my report."

Marshall nodded.

"Thank you," Clarine said.

Officer Dougherty looked down at Rena. "My recommendation ... stay away from the Barrens. Don't even go to the Outskirts. It's not safe anymore. If you need a place to exercise, stick to the commons. That's what it's for."

"Yes, sir."

Dougherty smiled. "Mr. and Mrs. Waite. Thank you for your time."

"Yes. Thank you, Officer," Marshall said, opening the door for him.

Dougherty joined Naylor on the front walkway and the two headed toward the street.

Marshall closed the door and let out the breath he'd been holding.

Clarine turned to Rena. "Sit down," she said, motioning to the couch in the living room.

Rena had hoped to escape a lecture, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. She took a seat on the couch and waited while her parents paced in front of her, deciding what to say.

"First of all," Clarine began, "we're relieved that you weren't hurt by those men. They could have taken a lot more than credits."

Marshall nodded. "That's right."

"I know," Rena said.

"And if something ever happened ..." Clarine added, but her words got stuck in her throat.

Marshall took the opportunity to move the conversation away from such grim thoughts. "Rena, you're going to be seventeen in just a few months. And then you'll only have a year before your conversion."

Every citizen was given a rating at birth. One to one hundred. A percentile in relation to everyone else in Esh. At the age of six, that rating converted to monetary credits that were immediately available for use. Six-year-olds didn't need to buy anything, but they still needed to learn the concept of credit responsibility. So their conversion rate was one-to-one. One credit for every rating point. At age twelve, the conversion rate became one-to-one hundred. At age eighteen, it was one-to-one thousand. That was the stage at which a citizen was considered an adult, and if one was responsible, he or she would have already have been working for a few years to save up credits for the big conversion.

"You're old enough to make your own decisions," Marshall continued. "And most of the time you're fairly responsible. But then you have these ... incidents."

Clarine jumped in as if this whole speech had been choreographed. "Your father and I don't put many expectations on you, but we're very disappointed right now. You know you shouldn't be going out to the Barrens. You're so much smarter than that."

"It's not illegal," Rena replied. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

"That's what I'm talking about ... right there," Marshall said, his voice getting louder. "Just because something's legal doesn't mean it's good for you to do. You need to start thinking in terms of positives and negatives. Before you do anything, ask yourself if it could raise or lower your rating. That's what it means to be an adult. And if you don't learn that now, you're in for a struggle the rest of your life."

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

"Mom?!" Gareth yelled. "Suzanne spilled."

"Hold on," Clarine replied, walking a few steps toward the kitchen.

"I'll tell you one thing," Marshall said, like nothing had happened, "you're not hanging out with Dal anymore."

"Dad! Dal had nothing to do with this."

"I'm serious. When you two get together, you get into trouble. He's a bad influence on you, and I don't want you associated with him anymore."

Rena got up from the couch. "That's not true! If anything, I'm a bad influence on him."

"Really? What's he rated?"

Rena looked down at the 013 on her hand. Dal was rated 011, but she didn't want to say it. A person's number didn't necessarily mean they were a good or bad influence.

Marshall raised his eyebrows as if to say, "I told you so."

Clarine continued into the kitchen to deal with Suzanne's mess.

Rena stood in the living room with her hands balled into fists. She didn't care what Marshall said. She was never going to stop hanging out with Dal. He was her best friend. She thought back to that first day in school, right after her adoption, when everything was new and strange. She'd felt so out of place. Alone. Then Dal came up and introduced himself. He said he lived down the street and asked if she wanted to play. That's when Rena recognized him as the boy who'd stared at her when she first arrived at Marshall and Clarine's house. He'd been there from the beginning. Her first friend. She wouldn't give that up if the Founders themselves were alive and standing in this living room, ordering her to do it.

Clarine came back from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. Marshall was still pacing. They made eye contact for a second before Clarine eased back into the conversation. "What I'm most concerned about is what you did to those men."

Rena unclenched her fists. The comment was so unexpected she didn't know how to respond. "What?"

Clarine came a step closer and took Rena's hand. "Do you remember Dr. Mallory?"

"Yeah?"

"That first year after we brought you home, you got in several fights at school. We took you to see her and she said it was a coping mechanism. Something you did to control your environment when you felt unsafe."

"Yeah?" Rena repeated.

Clarine locked eyes with Marshall for a moment before continuing. "I know you were just defending yourself and your friends, but you really hurt those men today. The one you stabbed could even be dead by now, for all we know."

"Mom!"

Clarine squeezed Rena's hand. "You said you didn't even realize what you were doing. You just reacted. Rena, there are going to be plenty of times in your life when you feel scared. What's going to come out of you next time? What happens if you do something that can't be fixed?"

"Mom, they were going to hurt Kirti and Dal."

"I'm going to 'verse Dr. Mallory," Clarine said, ignoring Rena's comment. "We need to get control of this ... for your sake."

"I think that's a good idea," Marshall added.

Rena wanted to object. She wanted to say counseling wasn't necessary. But she'd never stabbed anyone before. Never broken someone's leg or slashed their wrist. She'd never had the police come into her house. Today was an unusual day. Perhaps it required an unusual response.

"Let's sit down and have some dinner," Clarine said quietly.

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just go to my room and lay down."

"OK," Clarine said, letting go of Rena's hand.

"Maybe spend some time thinking about how you want your life to turn out," Marshall said.

Rena nodded but didn't reply as she walked down the hallway.