Among the Betrayed by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page A

guard, to go to the bathroom, to get a new pen. And then Nina would grab whatever food was nearest and stuff it down her dress, in her socks, wherever she could. She took apples, oranges, biscuits, raisins. She took dried bananas, unshelled walnuts, cereal boxes, oatmeal bars still in their wrappers. She stole another of the bags the guard brought black bread in, and took to carrying it around with her, tied under her dress, so she could swipe even more food each time.
    The problem was, she didn’t know what to do with the food she stole.
    She was hungry. She could easily have eaten it all herself. But once she was back in her jail cell with the other three, her stomach squeezed together at the thought of eating so much as a crumb of the stolen food. What if they heard her chewing? How could she eat such delicacies while they were starving, right there beside her? (Howcould she eat any of the Population Police’s food when the other three were starving?)
    She did think about sharing. That was probably why she’d reached for the bowl of peanuts in the first place, because she felt so guilty about not taking the rolls for Alia. But how could she explain where she’d gotten all that food?
    An evil thought crept into her mind one night when the guard shoved her back into her cell and she saw the other three cuddled together. Nina sat down beside them and leaned into Alia, and Alia squirmed away in her sleep, closer to Matthias. The ground was wet and hard, and Nina was freezing. Everything seemed hopeless; Nina didn’t care what happened to anyone else as long as she got warm, as long as she got dry clothes, as long as she got out of jail. I could use the food, she thought. Like a bribe. I could tell them they can have as much as they want to eat, as long as they tell me their secrets. No—I’d dole it out, a peanut at a time, a raisin at a time, with every one of my questions. Who’s “Sa-”? Where’d you get your I.D.’s? Who else should have been arrested with you?
    Nina didn’t do it. She just kept stealing food she couldn’t eat, couldn’t give away, couldn’t use. She felt like she’d been in prison forever and she would stay in prison forever. She saw nothing ahead of her but more nights sleeping in damp, filthy clothes on cold, hard rock, more days trying to overhear the others’ whispers, more randomly spaced trips to the hating man’s room, where heyelled at her and gave her food she could not eat, only steal.
    Then one day he cut her off.
    â€œYou have twenty-four hours,” the hating man barked at her. “That’s it.”
    Nina stared back at him, her brain struggling to comprehend. She’d practically forgotten that twenty-four hours made a day—that there were things such as numbers and counted-off hours in the world.
    â€œYou mean . . . ,” she said, more puzzled than terrified.
    â€œIf you do not tell me everything I need to know by”—he looked at the watch on his wrist—“by ten-oh-five tomorrow night, you will be executed. You and the three exnays.”
    Nina waited for the terror to come, but she was too numb. And then she was too distracted. Mack, the guard, was pounding at the door to their meeting room. The hating man opened it, and Mack stumbled in, slumping against the table. Nina saw he still clutched the ring of keys he always used to get her in and out of her cell. His long arms hit the wood hard. Then his fingers released, and the keys went sliding across the table and onto the floor.
    â€œPoi—,” Mack gulped. “Poisoned . . .”
    The hating man sprang up and grabbed a phone, punching numbers with amazing speed. “Ambulance to the Population Police headquarters immediately!” he demanded. “One of our guards has been poisoned.”
    He dragged Mack out into the hall, Mack’s feet bouncing against the floor. “Stay with me,