I look back at the car that’s already driving away, leaving me stranded.
“This is your new home.” Doctor Acacia gestures up at the building. There’s writing above the door, but I can’t read it. To me, letters look like ugly drawings. Mama said reading and school was a waste of time. “Welcome to Sunnycrest.”
“Sunnycrest,” I repeat.
It sounds like somewhere people go on vacation. Vacations aren’t for people like us. Like me.
“Let’s get you settled in,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll show you your room.”
I keep my arms at my sides, frowning at his open palm.
He chuckles. “I can see you’re definitely in the right place, boy,” he says, ruffling my hair. “You’re very lucky to be here, Zero.”
“Aiden,” I correct, sticking my jaw out in defiance. “My name is Aiden.”
“Not anymore,” Doctor Acacia says. “You are Zero now.”
EIGHT YEARS EARLIER…
ELI
“I want to go home,”I whimper. “Please. Take me home.”
A boy with a dead-eyed stare slides off the top bunk and lands with a thud on his feet. He turns to face me, casting me under his shadow. He towers above me, as tall as a grown man. I’m eleven, and he’s thirteen, but he looks much older. Something about him is off. He isn’t… right. No one here is.
“This is your home now,” the boy says.
Tears drip down my dirty cheeks. All I wanted was to hitch a ride. It’s not the first time. I’ve done it loads before. When the man picked me up by the roadside, he promised to take me somewhere special. I thought we were going to get ice cream, but I knew I was in trouble when he drove past the shop. I kicked and screamed until he pulled over, then everything went black.
“I don’t want to be h-here,” I stammer, struggling to breathe. “I want to go home!”
“Shh,” the strange boy hushes, kneeling next to me. I flinch as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You have to be strong to survive here, okay? I’ll look out for you. Don’t let them see you cry, you hear me?”
I sniff and nod, feeling other eyes on us. We’re not alone. We’re in a room with four others. The other boys don’t speak.They only watch, quivering under their thin blankets like scared mice.
“Good,” the boy replies, cracking a smile. “What’s your name?”
I look at the number sewn into my new shirt. That’s what the doctor who brought me to my room told me my name will be from now on. Twenty-Five.
“Twenty-Five,” I say, not stupid enough to risk another blow to the head.
“Good.” The boy nods, satisfied with my answer. He leans to whisper in my ear, “Don’t let them hear you say anything else. To them, that is your name.”
It’s not the first time I’ve stayed silent to avoid a beating. Mom and Dad argued constantly, until one day, their arguing stopped.
I was there when it happened.
He pushed Mom down the stairs and laughed. Her body toppled like a pile of tumbling blocks, bouncing off every step. I watched her head hit the wooden floor and burst open like a cracked watermelon. Blood spilled out, lapping at my feet, and stained her pretty brown hair. While Dad ran, I stayed with her and stroked her hair. The soft hair that always smelled like fresh shampoo, hair that draped over my face when she sang songs, hair I cried into after scraping my knees. I pulled what was left of her head onto my lap and stroked her hair until the sirens got close.
The door to our room opens to reveal a woman. There’s no sparkle in her eyes, and her lips are fused shut in a straight line. Not like Mom, who always smiled.
She clears her throat and checks her notebook. “Twenty-Five and Zero,” she calls. “Come with me.”
The boy who consoled me stands up, clenching his jaw and balling his fists. He catches my eye and tilts his head, encouraging me to copy him.
We follow the woman along a long, windowless hallway with no pictures. After a few turns, the gray walls all merge into one.
“Where are we going?” I whisper to Zero as the woman quickens.
