Bam turns and spits on the ground. “You’re such a freakin’ hypocrite.” Then she goes back to playing pool against kids who never beat her.

Starkey, however, has no need to bad-mouth Connor. Griping is for those without a plan of action—and tonight Starkey has something new up his sleeve. A gift for Connor. It comes in the person of Jeevan, whose skill with computers got him assigned to the ComBom, and who happens to be a loyal Stork Club member. Of course, no one but Starkey knows that fact. “Jeeves” is one of two well-positioned “sleeper agents,” whose allegiance is to him, rather than Connor. And what a gift Jeeves has provided! Starkey’s been saving it for just the right moment. He concludes that now—when Connor seems to be getting his balance back—is the perfect time to unwrap it . . . and while the gift is in his arms, pull the rug out from under him.

41 • Connor

Connor sits alone in his jet, staring into space, trying to process everything he’s just learned. We can’t stop unwinding, the Admiral once told him. The best we can hope to do is save as many of these kids as we can. But somehow, after seeing those old news reports, Connor is starting to feel that maybe the Admiral was wrong. Maybe there is a way to end unwinding. If only he can figure out how to truly learn from the past . . .

Connor is still pondering the dark specter of history late into the evening, when Starkey shows up at his jet. Connor opens the hatch for him. “What’s up? Is there a problem?”

“You’ll have to tell me if it’s a problem,” Starkey says enigmatically. “Can I come in?”

Connor lets him in, “It’s been a killer day—this had better be good.”

“There’s a TV here, right?”

Connor points to it. “Yeah, but there’s no line in, and the color sucks.”

“Don’t need a line, and color’s not gonna matter when you see what I’ve got.” Starkey pulls out a microdrive and plugs it into the TV’s data port. “You should sit down.”

Connor laughs. “Thanks, but I’ll stand.”

“You sure?”

Connor gives him a funny look, continues standing, and waits for an image to come on the screen.

He recognizes the show immediately. It’s a weekly news magazine he has seen many times before. A familiar TV journalist discusses the featured story. The logo screened in behind her says angel of division.

“A little over a year ago,” she begins, “clappers took out an unwinding facility in Happy Jack, Arizona. The social and political fallout from that event still resonates today, but one girl—an infamous player in that event—is speaking out. Her message, however, is not what you think. You may have seen her in various public service announcements blitzing the airwaves. In a short time, she’s gone from being one of the Juvenile Authority’s most wanted to becoming the poster child for the cause of unwinding. Yes, you heard me right: FOR unwinding. Her name is Risa Ward, and you’re not going to forget her anytime soon.”

Connor takes a deep, shuddering breath and realizes that Starkey was right—he needs to sit down. His legs practically fall out from under him as he sinks into the chair.

The studio shot cuts to Risa being interviewed in some plush location by the same journalist. There’s something different about her, but Connor can’t yet tell what it is.

“Risa,” begins the journalist, “you were a ward of the state slated for unwinding, became a coconspirator with the notorious Akron AWOL, and were even present at Happy Jack HarvestCamp to witness his death. After all that, how is it that you now speak in favor of unwinding?”

Risa hesitates before answering, then says, “It’s complicated.”

Starkey crosses his arms. “Yeah, I’ll bet it is.”

“Quiet!” snaps Connor.

“Could you walk us through it?” the journalist asks, with a disarming grin that Connor wants to punch right off her face with Roland’s fist.

“Let’s just say I have a different perspective now than I had before.”

“You’ve come to see unwinding as a good thing?”

“No, it’s a terrible thing,” she answers, which gives Connor hope . . . until she says, “But it’s the least of all evils. Unwinding is there for a reason, and the world would be very different without it.”

“Pardon me for pointing this out, but that’s easy for you to say, now that you’re seventeen and beyond unwinding age.”

“No comment,” says Risa, and it’s like a dagger slowly twisting in Connor’s gut.

“Let’s talk about the charges against you,” the journalist says, looking at her notes. “Theft of government property, namely yourself; conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism; conspiracy to commit murder—and yet all these charges against you have been dropped. Does that have anything to do with your change of heart?”

“I won’t deny that I was offered a deal,” Risa says, “but the dropping of those charges is not the reason why I’m here today.” Then she does something very simple—something that no one else would notice in the slightest, except for those who know her. . . .

Risa crosses her legs.

For Connor, it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the jet. He half expects oxygen masks to drop from the ceiling.

“If you think that’s bad, listen to this next part,” says Starkey, actually seeming to enjoy it.

“Risa, would you call your change of heart a matter of convenience or a matter of conscience?”

Risa takes time to craft her answer, but that doesn’t make it any less devastating. “Neither,” she says. “After all I’ve been faced with, I find I have no choice. For me, supporting unwinding is a matter of necessity.”

“Turn it off,” Connor says.

“There’s still more—you really should hear the end.”

“I said turn it off!”

Starkey reaches over and turns off the TV, and Connor feels his mind slamming shut like a fire door to keep out all the things too hot to handle—but he knows it’s too late; the fire has already leaped inside. In this moment he wishes he had been unwound a year ago. He wishes Lev hadn’t come in to save him, because then he would never have to feel what he’s feeling now.

“Why did you show me this?”

Starkey shrugs. “I thought you had a right to know. Hayden knows, but he’s been keeping it from you. I think that’s wrong and completely unfair to you. Knowing who’s your friend and who’s your enemy can only make you stronger, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Connor says absently.

Starkey grips his shoulder. “It’s okay, you’ll get over it. We’re all here to support you.” Then he leaves, his mission of enlightenment accomplished.

Connor sits for a long time without moving. Although he knows he needs to be strong enough to carry this burden, he feels so shredded inside, he doesn’t know how he can make it through the night, much less take care of hundreds of Unwinds in the days ahead. All those lofty ideas of exposing history to end unwinding implode into a single desperate thought.

Risa. Risa. Risa.

He is hobbled. How could Starkey not know how devastated he would be? Either he’s stupider than Connor thought . . . or he’s much, much smarter.

42 • Starkey

Jeeves brings Starkey a copy of the list of local unwind orders. There are only three kids on this list deemed savable, and none of them are storks. But today is the day that things change. There is a storked kid on the list, ignored and forgotten.

Jesus LaVega

287 North Brighton Lane

Well, Connor doesn’t have a monopoly on rescuing Unwinds. It’s high time Starkey took things into his own hands.

“Hey, we’re saving Jesus, instead of him saving us,” someone says when Starkey tells the Stork Club his plan. Another kid raps him on the head. “It’s pronounced Haysoos, moron.”