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“What?” I didn’t get it. So what if it was dry?

Chase held up his finger so I could see it.Clean. “It’s dry. If that kid did this, it wouldn’t be dry already. There’s no way it was him.” He turned and faced the poster again. “This has been up here for at least an hour.”

The officer shifted on his feet. “Rubbish! This little shit was here, and I caught him right-handed.”

I looked back at the man. “Yousawhim paint this?”

His brows furrowed. “No, but the brat was here.”

Chase turned back toward us. “Circumstantial evidence.”

The sneer returned to the officer’s face as he pointed down at the kid. “He’s out of his district.”

I gulped. He was right. The child shouldn’t have been here. I faced the boy again as he laid crumpled on the floor. He couldn’t have been over eight, maybe seven. The realization caused a memory to flood me. A memory of myself in a loose heap on the floor of a cold, damp basement.

Hungry…

In the dark…

Bloodied…

For days.

My heart ached. Though this boy was a member of the Subclass, in so many ways, I saw myself.

I took another deep breath. “Did you do this?”

The boy looked at me and vigorously shook his head.

I pointed at the poster. “You swear to me you didn’t do this?”

“N-no. No, ma’am,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

“Why are you in District 1?”

He looked at the officer, fear clear in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about him, look at me. Why are you in District 1?” I felt for him, I really did. But I needed something—anything—to help me absolve him.

The child swung his gaze back to me. “I-I was looking in the trash for nourishment pills.”

“Why?”

“We’re starving in District 3.”

“Lies,” the officer spat out.

“Hey!” Chase warned, his voice deep and gruff. “The First Daughter of the Presidential Family is asking the boy a question.” Chase emphasized my title, making sure it sunk inrealdeep with this man. “Show her your respect and allow the boy to answer her.”

The officer glared, but he kept his mouth shut.

I returned my attention to the child. “Nothing in the trash would be useful to you.”

“I’m sorry, miss.” He looked away from me then. There was more. So much was being left unsaid, but I didn’t want to sit around and dig for answers. I looked at Chase.

“If he did it, where are the paint cans?” Chase motioned around us, and my gaze followed him. He was right. There were no cans, brushes, or anything to be seen.

I nodded. “Officer, thank you for your diligent duty in maintaining peace and order. The boy has received enough punishment for being in the wrong district. I suggest you put in a work order immediately to have this mess cleaned up, and be sure you notify the REG as soon as possible about this rebel activity.”