Enders Read Free Page A

feet, he was already gone. I shook pieces of glass from my clothes.
    Blood marked the backs of my hands. How could this happen? How did the Old Man turn the chip into a bomb?
    Tyler. Michael.
    No! Please.
    I oriented myself and spotted the shoe store right by the worst of the wreckage. I began to run but stumbled on the debris. I worked my way to the front of the store, where a guard had just finished covering what was left of Reece’s body with his coat. One of her shoes—those heels I had just admired—lay on the floor, bits of glass littered across it, as if Cinderella’s slipper had shattered.
    My own shoes crunched as I made my way inside the store. People sat on the benches meant for trying on shoes. The injured held handkerchiefs, paper towels, and even store socks—tags still on—pressed to their heads, faces, and arms.
    Then I spotted Michael behind a display counter in the rear of the store, looking down, his head hanging low. I ran through the store to get to him.
    “Michael!”
    He looked up at me with an expression of relief. “Callie.”
    “Where’s Tyler?” I screamed.
    Tyler stood, revealing himself from behind the counter. A few scratches, but fine. I came around and hugged him to me.
    “What happened?” he asked.
    “It was an explosion,” I said quietly.
    “But why?” Tyler asked.
    I could see the confusion in his eyes. He might be all right physically, but this would leave another scar inside.
    “I wish I knew,” I said.

    Hours later, marshals had blocked off the shoe store and turned the space outside it into an interrogation area. Marshal detectives, wearing suits instead of uniforms, borrowed tables and chairs from the fancy shops and created stations set far enough apart that witnesses couldn’t hear each other. Tyler and I stood in line waiting our turn. I had my hands on his shoulders, keeping him close to me. We were up next. Should I reveal what I knew? What would they do with me if I told them I could hear voices in my head? Would they believe me? Or think I was crazy?
    A Starter finished her interrogation and left one of the tables. A marshal nodded to us and motioned for Tyler to take her place. He walked to that table while I went to the next empty station and sat in the chair, facing a detective. Even sitting, he towered over me. He was a muscled Ender maybe a hundred years old, with a tan and a full head of white hair. I noticed his gun, but it was the sight of his ZipTaser that made me tense.
    “Name?” he asked.
    “Callie Woodland.”
    His palm-sized airscreen recorded my voice as I spoke. I could see the words in reverse, spelled out in the display.
    “Age?”
    “Sixteen.”
    “Grandparents?”
    I shook my head. I explained that Lauren had recently becomemy legal guardian so I wouldn’t be considered an unclaimed, and gave him my address and phone number.
    “What were you doing in the mall?” he asked.
    “Going to meet my brother, Tyler, to get shoes.”
    “Is he here?”
    I nodded. He pointed at the airscreen display.
    “Please state it verbally,” he said.
    “Yes, he’s being questioned at that other table.”
    I scratched the back of my head and then realized what I was doing. I stopped. The detective looked at me—had he noticed? I tucked my hand under my leg.
    “Tell me what you saw,” he asked.
    I inhaled. I had practiced this while in line. But would I get it straight?
    “I saw a girl walking in the mall.”
    “Can you describe her?”
    “She had long red hair, was about five four, beautiful.… ”
    My eyes filled with tears. I tried to fight them. I didn’t want him to guess I’d known her.
    He squinted at me. “It’s all right. Tell me when you’re ready to go on.”
    I nodded. “I’m okay.”
    “What was she wearing?”
    “Um, a green print dress. And silver shoes.” My voice cracked.
    Our eyes met. I hesitated.
    “And …?”
    “She was acting strange.”
    “How?”
    Don’t say anything
.
    I became alert. The detective