The Darkest Legacy (Darkest Min - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,47

at the motel.”

Thanks to me.

Roman reached forward, nudging the POWER button on the radio.

I really did not have the emotional bandwidth to listen to news reports about the incident and my supposed involvement. I reached to turn it right back off, but Roman’s quiet words stopped me.

“I know it might be painful to hear what they’re saying, but we should stay on top of the news and monitor their investigation.”

I pulled my hand back onto the wheel.

He was right, but the memory of the explosion, of what had happened to Mel and the others, was still so close to the surface. I was already replaying it in my head on a near-constant loop, trying to figure out what I could have done differently to save them; the thought of hearing someone else discuss those last, horrible seconds made me want to bolt from the car.

“All right,” I managed to get out.

Roman hit the scanner and let the stations fly by, counting up and down as they searched for this zone’s primary radio channel.

The static poured in and out of my ears, broken up by weak channels and fragments of half-forgotten songs. When Roman finally found the right station, it was so strong that the broadcaster all but screamed at us. He flinched, fumbling with the knob to turn the volume down.

“—don’t disagree with Mr. Moore, and, in fact, we’ve tentatively agreed to work with him in a more meaningful way on his Personalized Independent Training Facility program. The reports that his company has sent on the results at the pilot facility have been very encouraging. It’s no secret that I’m not entirely sold on PPS, but I remain open to it so long as his pilot facility passes government inspection next month. As you know, we have not had access to it—Yes, next question—”

I had recognized President Cruz’s voice at her first word, but I’d also recognized her tone. It was an exhausted reluctance, the kind that came with finally being trapped in a corner after years of narrow escapes.

“What’s PPS?” he asked.

“Privatized Psi Schooling,” I said, trying to focus on what President Cruz was saying. She must have gone in front of the press pool that morning. Brave, considering the news. “Sort of like a boarding school for Psi, with the focus on getting them better reintegrated into society by giving them skill sets they can use in the workforce.”

“I thought there was supposed to be…independent living communities? Didn’t you do a presentation on them?”

Irritation buzzed through me—not at Roman, but at what had happened to squash those plans. “That was voted down because they were deemed too expensive for the recovering economy. A few companies, including Moore’s, put in bids to finance different school and living projects, and his got picked.”

If kids were being taught valuable skills in a safe, clean environment, then I couldn’t really complain. Especially when the original idea—one still startlingly popular with a number of Americans—had been setting aside remote stretches of land, building a few structures, and trapping the Psi inside its electrified borders.

“No, George, I agree, both with you and him,” Cruz continued. “These programs could be a great option, especially for the unclaimed Psi. Twelve volunteered to make up the pilot facility’s first class, and we’re hoping to be able to move another fifty out of foster situations and group homes into the school. But, again, it’s only after Mr. Moore finishes his initial testing and submits the program to more thorough inspection.”

“How many kids are…unclaimed?” Roman asked, hesitating on the ugly word.

“One thousand, one hundred and twelve,” I said. “Most are in foster homes, but a lot of the older Psi live together in group homes. The government monitors all of them, and they have special caseworkers checking in constantly.”

He turned back to the road, his expression troubled.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just…I’m surprised you aren’t more against them. You were in a camp.”

I glanced over, startled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

After the interview I’d given years ago that went out to the world, and the talks I’d participated in since then, it had seemed like there wasn’t a person on earth who hadn’t heard the story. So many people knew the details, it had stopped feeling wholly mine.

“I thought you’d hate him because what he’s proposed could be seen as similar to them,” he clarified. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up—”

“It’s fine.” I was fine. “The kids in Moore’s program volunteered to go,