“Could they see everything all right from the stands?” I ask.

Aldo nods. “And if we get a bigger crowd, we can use some of the broadcast screens like we do for the larger races.”

Bigger crowds mean more money. More money means that I can get to the surface faster. I’ve spent my life avoiding attention, but I’m going to have to court it if I want to get Above.

“Now that you’ve given them a taste for free,” Aldo says, “we can charge a fee to watch you, set times for your swims so that spectators know when to come. And the bettors liked it, too. They can take bets on how many hits you get during a swim. It’s nice to have something new to watch for a change. The races have been going on the same way forever.” He looks at True. “Was it you? Were you holding mirrors to reflect on the water?”

“They’re not lights or mirrors,” I say. “They’re fish. Made out of metal.” I scoop one up and hold out my hand to show Aldo.

“Whatever it is,” Aldo says, “we’ve got enough interest to give it a try. You can have free practice times in the lane if you’ll split the winnings with me.”

This is excellent. Even better than I’d hoped. Of course, people will be watching me but it’s not as though I’ll have to talk. I can have Aldo announce me. “Not down the middle,” I say. “Seventy-thirty, the same as any racer.”

Aldo shakes his head. “It’s a risk,” he says. “I know people will bet on and watch the races. I’m not sure that this will take off.”

“Seventy-thirty,” I say. “All I need you to do is provide the water and the lanes and announce for me. I’ll supply the rest, at no cost to you. I have more ideas in mind.”

And I do. Aldo thinking that the fish were light and mirrors—a trick—has made my mind swim with possibilities.

“Like what?” Aldo asks.

“We’ll show people the fish,” I say, “and tell the crowd that we’re going to up the ante every time I swim. We’ll put more fish in the water. True can make them faster. We could rig them so that they give off an electrical charge when they touch me.” That would be even better practice for getting around the mines—if I could train my mind to equate brushing up against the fish with pain, I’d work even harder to avoid them.

“That sounds too risky,” True says.

“I’m sure there’s a way we could do it without it hurting too much,” I say. “And the more dangerous we make it seem, the more people will come to watch. We’ll keep changing things up, make them interesting.” What if I lock my hands or feet together to make swimming more difficult? What if I go under, deep, and see how fast I can come to the surface with weights tied on?

Aldo nods. “All right,” he says. “We can split it seventy-thirty.”

True looks upset. “Why do you want to take so many risks?” he asks, but no sooner has he finished the question than an expression of understanding crosses his face and he falls silent. I find it much more disconcerting than Aldo’s complete disregard for my safety. Does True really understand me?

If so, then he is dangerous to me, more dangerous than anything I do in the swimming lanes.

Aldo and I set a time for my next event. “We can’t call them races,” Aldo says, “so we’ll call them performances.” I nod in agreement. Though I’m thinking of them as training sessions, I don’t suggest we use that term instead. I don’t want anyone to guess my other purpose in doing this. Especially not True.

After Aldo leaves, True leans farther over the lane to talk to me.

“I know why you’re doing this,” he says. “Why you’re taking so many risks.”

My heart sinks. How did he figure it out? How did I give myself away?

“The ring,” he says.

The ring? Of course. My mother’s ring. He thinks I’m trying to earn enough coin to buy it back.

“I’ll help you,” he says. “I won’t charge you anything for any of the fish you use. I’ll help you make them.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do all of this for free?”

“Because I know how much you want that ring,” he says. “And because I need your help to find out why Fen and Bay went Above.”

Of course. There’s always a price to be paid. True doesn’t know that I’m going to get Above and then ask my sister why she went.

“We know that there has to be a reason why Bay and Fen went Above,” True says. “We know it can’t just be that they were in love, because they could have stayed down here and been together.”

“We don’t even know that they were in love,” I say.

True hesitates.

“So you think you do know that?” I ask.

“Well,” True says, “I used to see them sometimes. Kissing.”

“Kissing,” I say, even more flatly than usual.

“Right,” True says.

Could Bay have been in love with Fen? Is that why she left? I don’t understand.

“When they were kissing . . . did it seem like they were in love?” It’s truly funny to hear me speaking about love and passion in my false, emotionless voice, but to True’s credit, he doesn’t laugh.

“I wasn’t doing the kissing,” True says. “I don’t want to speak for them. But yes, it did seem like there was something between them. Something real.”

“But even if there was, you’re right that they could have stayed Below,” I say. “They could have been married here someday. They didn’t have to go Above for that.”

“I know,” True says. “So there must be more to it.”

He’s right. They must have had other reasons. Deeper than love, perhaps darker.

“Last night I went over and talked to Fen’s brother, Caleb,” True says. “He’s young—ten years old—and he’s devastated about Fen leaving. The family can’t understand why he’d go. But Caleb said that Fen left him a note. He showed it to me.” True holds out a paper. “It’s not the real thing,” he says, “but Caleb let me copy it down.”

The note is short.

It might seem like me choosing the Above means that I don’t care about you, but that’s not true. I do care and I always will.