"You're right. I don't. But I know it wasn't living. It was only existing." Her words grow softer and slower. "Locke, you need to experience the world on your own terms. You deserve the chance to live a life."

There is distance in her voice, like she is already pushing me away. My chest tightens. "I'm not the sixteen-year-old boy you used to know, Jenna! The past two hundred sixty years have changed me too! This last year has changed me!"

"Then tell me, Locke! What are you? A boy? A man? Something else?"

I stare at her. Her chin is lifted, almost mocking, waiting for me to answer. My hand slides away from the wall. "I don't know."

"And that's what you need to find out," she whispers.

We stand there, silent seconds ticking past us.

"I'll still be here in ten or twenty years, if you want to come back," she says. "But I can't take this away from you. You've already lost too much."

Words stick in my throat. I'm losing everything at once.

"Father Andre needs to know by the end of the week. Think about it. Let me know." She leaves to go to bed.

I go to my room, but I lie awake the whole night, staring at the ceiling. It doesn't matter that my room is dark--I see every dimple, every uneven plane, every hairline crack that travels across the plaster and vanishes into nowhere.

She's willing to let me go. She almost made it sound like a sacrifice. I can't take this away from you. Does she see something in me that I can't see myself? That there are only so many trenches to dig, so many rock walls to build, so many chairs I can throw against walls? She has lived three lifetimes. I haven't lived one.

You deserve the chance to live a life.

I can't imagine a life without Jenna, but I can't deny that when she said Boston, something inside me jumped. Home. A place where some remnant of my life might still exist, or if nothing exists, maybe it's a chance to move on. You need to experience the world on your own terms. That's what Kara and Jenna and I had just started to do when we were cut short. I had only a small taste, and Kara and Jenna are what made it happen. They made me braver. How can I do it without them?

My eyes travel over the hairline cracks again and again, like I'm following the lines of a map. They all lead me back to Boston. Someone needs help. A favor. The choice is mine. But it's more than just a favor. It's a purpose. Not my parents' purpose, or Gatsbro's, or even Kara's. It's a purpose that makes sense to me, and it is my own to choose--or not. It would be safer, maybe even wisest, just to say no, but then I think about Bone, the other Non-pacts, Kara, Bots like Dot who become something more--they're all the same. All nonpersons, like me. Change doesn't happen overnight--it's molded by people who don't give up.

I roll over on my side and face the dresser. My pack rests on top. Change may not happen overnight, but I can't wait ninety years for it to come to me. I kick back my blankets and wrestle with the sheets that have become tangled around my legs, and just before dawn, I finally fall asleep.

Chapter 76

Miesha swipes at my shirt with one hand. Her other hand uses a cane for support. She's been awake for a few days now, but she's still shaky, her right leg numb. "There," she says, and pats my back twice. "Done." She shuffles back to look at me. "Are you sure you want to do this? You're only seventeen, Locke."

"Seventeen going on two hundred and seventy-seven. I have a lot of catching up to do."

She limps to the chair and sits down, weak from the effort.

I grab my coat from the hook on the back of the door. Miesha stares at me as I put it on. "He wasn't much older than you when he joined the Resistance."

"I'm not part of any Resistance, Miesha. I owe a favor, and I'm going to help one person. That's all."

She bites her lower lip and nods. "I'm not good at good-byes, Locke."

"I think we both got shortchanged in that department. Come on, let me help you back to your room. It's the least an uncle can do."

She smiles and lets me take her arm. When I return to my room, Allys is standing in the hall. She knocks on the open door. "Coming in, city boy."

"Don't think I could stop you," I say.

She smiles. "Smart city boy." She crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. "Got your purse all ready?"

"It's a pack."

"Right. I have something for you to add." She holds out a round object wrapped in tissue, and I take it from her. "A chocolate peach," she says. "It's an experience. One you wouldn't want to miss. Savor it." She stands and kisses my cheek. "Savor it all. You hear?"

Chapter 77

Besides helping the Network, I have unfinished business. In Manchester there are labs to visit. I don't want to meet a copy of myself 260 years from now. I don't want the shell of Kara to have to go on. I need to be certain that there are no more. I have more business in Andover. I never thought much of cemeteries before, but maybe those are the real places of closure, not an office where your past is swept into a trash can. And then in Boston, before I find the person who needs my help, there are cab rides to take where I will share stories about Escape and a Bot named Dot Jefferson, a Bot who had dreams and hopes. I may have started out as part of a dusty forgotten inheritance, but like Dot, I have dreams and hopes too. I want to become more.

I travel light. My few possessions fit in the pack on my back, and I have a long way to go.