• PROLOGUE

    I huddled behind the small wall and watched the Workers welding. A shower of sparks flew toward me, illuminating my face, and I ducked into safety in fear of being seen. I pressed my back against the wall and took several deep breaths, willing my heartbeat to slow. Then I poked my head out again - and immediately wished I hadn't.

    A cloud of sawdust floated toward me and I suddenly felt an irresistible urge to sneeze, my eyes burning. I clapped my hand across my mouth, but it was too late - I wasn't fast enough to muffle the explosion.

    I watched in fear as two Workers broke off from the group and spoke to each other quietly. At first I thought that they were talking about their project...until they began to advance on me.

    I ran in the opposite direction, trying not to be seen, but I should have known that it was hopeless. Within seconds, the two Workers had caught up to me and each had one of my arms in an iron grip.

    One of them leaned closer and growled in my ear, "Who are you, and why are you here?"

    I looked up defiantly. "My name is Clary Warden, I'm 14 years old, and I think what you're doing here is a crime."


    CHAPTER 1

    I sat beside my small campfire quietly. Why had I ever gotten myself into this? First I had spied on those awful Workers who were part of that strange experiment - now I had somehow stumbled across a confidential facility where missiles were being stored. Missiles! I should have gotten a reward for finding it, but no! Instead, I'm on the run from the law, and the law wants me dead. And yet...I shook my head. I still felt content here, in a weird sort of way. My only worry these days was the committee hunting for me.

    I heard a rustle in the bushes beside me and I panicked, throwing sand over the flames. In an instant, the cold darkness of night overtook the warmth of my bright fire.

    I sat perfectly still as I waited to be found. Who was it? I suddenly remembered that chilling day two years ago when I was given a choice: go to jail, or stay out of trouble for the next ten years. I wasn't told that the second option came with a twist - I'd be executed if I broke my promise. Why hadn't I just chosen jail? Because, I told myself, I was fourteen when I chose. At that time, I was naïve and though I could stay out of trouble. Besides, who'd ever heard of a 14-year-old in jail?

    Having a reputation as a 16-year-old convict would be better than this.

    Another rustle in the bushes startled me out of my reminiscence. I wasn't safe here. I wasn't safe anywhere. I was wanted by the law.

    • • •

    It had ended up only being a squirrel. I'd put out my fire, gathered up all my belongings, and left my campsite in fear of a squirrel! My life was absurd.

    Had I known what it was, I never would have left. I'd managed to keep that fire burning for almost seventy-two hours, sleeping during the day and hunting for food at night. But now I'd left my "haven," as I had begun to call it, and the world I had once grown to love was now menacing.

    I walked along a thin, bush-invaded trail. I had little food in the leather pack I wore - I'd had no time to prepare. I had one clean set of clothes, and I desperately needed new shoes - I could easily feel every small pebble under the old worn ones I'd used for the past two years. But it was no matter; I'd get new clothes eventually, and in the meantime, I was safe.

    Finally the trail started to widen and I was able to walk more comfortably. I nibbled on a piece of fruit I'd picked and contemplated on what punishment I'd be sentenced to when I was caught. Were these people really cruel enough to put a 16-year-old to death? Or would they just send me to the jail? I hoped for the latter, but I dared not hope.

    I came to a halt suddenly as the trail spread quickly. Where was I? How far had I gone since that stupid squirrel interrupted me? Then I noticed a small sign on a crooked post that read, WELCOME. Welcome where? Then I looked up.

    I observed the small town I'd stumbled upon. None of the houses were exactly what could be classified as expensive, but they weren't shabby either. I soon spotted what I'd been looking for: an old, rundown shack.

    I stayed along the treeline for as long as I could, then checked both ways and shot out into the small road. The moon cast a pale blue glow upon everything in sight, and I hoped it wouldn't reveal me.

    I banged open the door and rushed into the small cabin. I shut the door with a small crash and fell to the floor, exhausted. When I finally regained my energy, I lifted my head and looked around.

    The house was bare of furniture except a lumpy-looking bed that had been shoved into the far corner. There was a tiny window opposite the door that looked directly into a neighboring house's window. I'd have to make sure my new little house stayed closed during the daytime.

    I stood up, using the bed as a support, and looked out the window for just a brief moment. I almost instantly recoiled, falling back onto the bed as my breath came in shallow rasps. For in the other house was a face that hadn't been there a moment before - a face that was staring directly at me.


    CHAPTER 2

    When I finally regained my composure, I peeked out the window again. The face was gone.

    At first I thought I had been hallucinating, that the face had never been there at all. It wouldn't be my first time seeing something that wasn't there. But I scratched that thought as I heard a sharp rap on the door and opened it to see the very face I'd spotted mere seconds ago.

    It was a boy my age, perhaps fifteen or sixteen. I stared at him, and he gaped back. Finally I stepped back into the little hun, letting him in, too. Without speaking, I invited him to sit on the bed as I moved around, covering the window and bolting the door.

    "That won't keep anyone out for ten seconds."

    I heard his voice behind me and spun to face him, my hands on my hips. "Who would want to break in? And who are you, anyway?" I was ashamed that my voice was unsteady.

    "My name is Jack, but everyone calls me Prawn or Midge. Midge, of the three, is probably my favorite. As for your other question...well, wouldn't you grow suspicious if the old hut that hadn't been touched in years suddenly had its window closed?"

    I contemplated what he said, then uncovered the window. "I guess I'll just have to be careful, then. I'm Clary, by the way."

    "Clary," Midge said. "That's an interesting name. It's nice."

    I decided I liked the guy. "Midge is...different, too."

    "It's short for Midget," he said. "Ironic, 'cause I'm taller than all my friends. Could you guess I'm sixteen?"

    "Actually...well, yeah, I could," I admitted. He was about four inches taller than me, but I was short for my age.

    "And you're, what, fourteen?"

    "Sixteen," I said, bristling. "Same as you."

    "Oops, sorry." He did look genuinely apologetic, and I couldn't help forgiving him. "So, Clary, what are you hiding from?"

    "Who said I'm hiding from anything?"

    Midge had been standing for a while, but then he slumped back onto the bed with his hands raised in mock surrender. "Hey, no one did," he said.

    "Sorry," I muttered. "I've got nothing against you."

    "So you are hiding?"

    "I didn't say that."

    "Aw, c'mon, Clary, I can help you!"

    I gazed at him. Did he mean it? Yes, I believed he did. And somehow, he had gained my trust.

    "All right, I'm in trouble," I admitted. "It's kind of hard to explain, though..."

    "I have time," Midge said.

    Suddenly, my whole story came pouring out: the spying, the missiles, my options, my decision - even the squirrel. We both cracked up as I retold the squirrel story - though it had been terrifying at the time, it was suddenly hilarious.

    "You sure have been through a lot," Midge commented, and in half a second, we were both solemn again.

    "You could say that."

    "Would you accept my help if I offered it?"

    I was taken by surprise at this question. "Well, I suppose so..."

    He dropped down to his knees. "Clary, I - "

    "Stand up," I said, laughing nervously.

    But though he extended his hand, he remained kneeling. I took the offered hand in my own.

    "Clary," he bagan again, "I swear that I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you from harm. I shall not let anything happen to you and I will stand by your side in your times of need. Do you accept my help?"

    "Yes," I murmured.

    I could've sworn that I felt a spark pass though our clasped hands as I said that one word.

    The oath was complete.


    CHAPTER 3

    Midge finally stood up. "Well, I have to get going."

    "Oh...but..."

    He laughed. "Clary, I have some work to do. I'll be back in about twenty minutes, all right?"

    "Yeah, okay."

    Those were several long minutes. I kept expecting some committee member to fling open the door and see me sitting there on the bed.

    I guess I fell asleep before Midge came back, because when I opened my eyes again, light was streaming through the single window and Midge was sitting in a chair he must have carried into the hut. He jumped up when he saw me awake and came over, a wide grin plastered to his face. I sat up to meet him.

    "Why didn't you wake me up?" I demanded.

    Midge laughed. "Clary, be reasonable. You were up till four in the morning! I mean, you conked out in less than twenty minutes. That's just proof of how tired you must have been."

    "How long was I asleep?"

    "You want the honest answer?"

    "Duh!"

    "Twenty-eight hours."

    "Twenty-eight...wait, you mean I slept for over a day? Midge!" I accused.

    "Hey, sorry, okay? You seriously needed it."

    "Wait a minute...Midge, does anyone else know that I'm here?"

    Midge looked sheepish. "Well...yes. I mean, I had to tell my family something. They don't know who you really are, though. I told them that you're a friend in danger. The rest of the village found out, too. To them you're my cousin Cheryl, who's traveled by foot from the city Marten, about twenty miles away, and made the journey in one day. That's to explain the sleeping. And I really do have a cousin named Cheryl who lives in Marten. Luckily no one who lives here has met her."

    "Midge..." I was at a loss for words. This boy was a complete stranger to me, and yet he was covering for me, lying for my safety. I said the only thing that could come to me. "Thank you."

    "No problem," Midge said. "Come on, I cleared a room for you at my house."

    I yawned. "But it's broad daylight!"

    As if he had read my mind, Midge responded, "Clary, it's eight in the morning. No one's going to see you. Are you hungry?"

    My stomach, which decided to rumble with hunger at that very moment, answered for me.

    Midge laughed. "Come on. I have food."

    I followed Midge obediently out of the hut and into another house - his, I realized quickly. "Cover your eyes," he told me.

    I did as he said, his hand around my free arm, gently propelling me forward. My feet, even through the shoes, could feel how spongy the carpet was.

    Midge let go of me after a short while. I started to uncover my eyes, but he grabbed my hand and made sure it was clamped over my eyes again before he released me. "Not yet," he said. "You can look once I close the door. I'll be back soon with food and water, all right?"

    I nodded, heard the door click, and quickly lowered my hand. The first thing I saw was pink. I was in a room full of pink! Bed, chair, desk, bookshelf, carpet, walls, roof, rug - all pink. I collapsed into the chair and shielded my eyes to dull the overpowering color.

    A four-poster bed with a canopy stood in one corner. A small bookshelf stood in another. The desk I was sitting at was directly opposite the bed. A small closet was in the last corner. A door separated the bed and the bookshelf. A rug lay in the middle of the floor. There were no windows.

    I stood and made my way over to the closet, where an array of pink clothing greeted me. I sighed and selected a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans - which, amazingly, were plain old blue. Digging through the clothing on the floor, I was also able to find a brown hoodie - rejected, probably, because it wasn't pink. I changed quickly and slipped the sweatshirt over my head, arranging it so that the shirt was completely covered.

    I had just finished folding my old, worn-out clothes when somebody knocked on the door. I jumped a little at the noise and opened it.

    Midge faced me, a tray of food in his hands. He smiled when he saw me. "Breakfast is served," he said, extending the tray, then he laughed. "Honestly, since when have you looked like a model, Clary?"

    "Shut up," I said, giggling nervously and taking the food. "Pink so does not suit me."

    He sighed. "Yeah, sorry about that. This is my older sister's room, but she moved out some time ago. Also, if you want to read some books that don't have names like 'How to be Popular,' you're entitled to any of mine."

    "Thank you," I said gratefully.

    I noticed a small mirror on the desk as I made my way over to the bed, and glanced at my reflection. I shook my head in disbelief, trying to suppress my laughter at my appearance - but I completely, utterly failed.

    I didn't look like the model Midge had described me as.

    I hadn't think I would.