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  And then, when she knew exactly where the thing was—

  Something pinched her on the back of her right hand.

  Jolly let out a wild cry and smashed her hand against the inner wall with all her might. The spider’s body was harder than she expected, the bristles stabbed like needles, but Jolly struck again, and again, and again. The twitching legs clutched around her hand like fingers; she felt their pressure, then their slackening.

  Sickened, she shook her arm until the lifeless spider slid off.

  It no longer mattered. Too late.

  The spider had bitten her.

  Jolly felt her consciousness fading. The blackness inside the drifting figurehead grew in solidity, robbed her of breath, seemed to flow oily and cold into her nose, into her eyes, into her mouth.

  I’m going to die, she thought with astonished matter-of-factness.

  Once more she raised her hand. Her fingers found the sliding cover above her face and pulled it aside with her last strength.

  The blue of the sky over her stabbed her pupils like steel blades. Salty air flowed into the hollow cavity.

  Breathe, her mind said.

  Now breathe, damn it!

  The sky paled, then the light, then the entire world. The spider venom pulsed through her veins and pressed every thought out through her pores.

  Jolly’s consciousness drifted away like flotsam on a night-dark ocean.

  Shadow Children:

  Among the Free

  by Margaret Peterson Haddix

  In this long-awaited conclusion to the bestselling Shadow Children series, Luke Garner, a third-born in a restrictive society that allows only two children per family, inadvertently sets off a rebellion that results in the overthrow of the government. The people are finally free. But who is in charge now? And will this new freedom be what they had hoped?

  MARGARET PETERSON HADDIX is the bestselling author of many novels for young readers, including Double Identity, Escape from Memory, Leaving Fishers, Running Out of Time, and the Shadow Children series. Her work has been honored with the International Reading Association Children’s Book Award, and appeared on ALA Best Books for Young Adults and Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers lists as well as state readers’ choice lists in twenty-eight states. Margaret lives in Columbus, Ohio.

  Visit www.simonsayskids.com or www.SimonSaysTeach.com for an author bio, reading group guide, and more on the Shadow Children series.

  AVAILABLE NOW

  Simon & Schuster Books For Young Readers

  New York London Toronto Sydney

  Chapter One

  Luke Garner stood shoulder to shoulder with a dozen other boys, waiting. It was six A.M., time for the daily inspection of all workers at Population Police headquarters, when all their uniforms had to be perfectly fitted, perfectly spotless, perfectly pressed; all their spines perfectly straight; all their expressions perfectly obedient. But Luke and the boys beside him were stablehands, the lowest of the low, so even though they had to line up outside at six A.M., sometimes it was six thirty or even seven before the sergeant stalked down the row. He’d peer at them suspiciously, assigning extra work any time he saw a wayward lock of hair, a wayward crease in a uniform, or even the suspicion of a smirk on a boy’s face.

  “You!” he’d bark. “Shovel all the manure from stall one into stall two. And then shovel all of that into stall three…”

  Only the stupidest boy would protest that that method was inefficient and would take twice as long, that his time might be better spent doing some other chore. All the boys in this lineup had learned not to be that stupid. Once, a long time ago, soon after Luke had arrived at Population Police headquarters, a boy had dared to question a task: “Isn’t there a bigger shovel I can use? It’d go faster that way.” The boy had been beaten in full sight of all the other boys.

  And then he’d disappeared.

  Luke had not made any friends in the stable. The unspoken rule seemed to be Keep to yourself. But Luke spent a lot of time thinking about the boy who had dared to ask a question, the one who’d disappeared.

  “Atten-tion!” It was the sergeant, arriving earlier than he ever had before.

  “Yes, sir!” Luke shouted back with the other boys, snapping his arm up into a salute. He worried that his arm had come up too late, that his “yes, sir!” had been a split second too slow, that he’d be singled out for punishment. The sergeant narrowed his eyes, seeming to stare straight at Luke, and Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. But then the sergeant’s gaze fell on the next boy in the line.

  “You are worthless stableboys,” the sergeant spat out. He glared at each boy in turn. “You’re no better than the manure you wallow in.”

  “Yes, sir!” Luke and the other boys yelled. They’d been trained. They knew what they were supposed to say.

  “But…” The sergeant paused. This was different. Usually he could go on berating them endlessly. “Some of you will have a chance to better yourselves.” A new tone had entered his voice. Slyness? Uncertainty?

  For the millionth time since he’d left his home nearly a year earlier, Luke wished he could understand other people better, that he could see through their lies to hear what they were actually saying.

  “Some of you will be called to a higher purpose,” the sergeant continued. “Some of you will be reassigned to a new task for the glory of our country.”

  None of the boys dared to move, but Luke could practically feel the others around him wanting to exchange glances, to see if anyone else knew what the sergeant was talking about. Higher purpose? New task? What did that mean?

  Another man strode up beside the sergeant. He was taller, more imposing. His uniform was more crisply pressed, and he had a row of medals on his chest.

  “I’ll choose,” he said imperiously.

  He walked up and down the row of boys, peering carefully at each one of them. Luke held his breath, as if exhaling might call too much attention to himself. He didn’t want to be reassigned. He liked working with the horses. They were…safe. The stables were a good place to hide.

  I, for one, have had enough of hiding. Words a friend had spoken months ago echoed in his mind. Luke had not come to Population Police headquarters looking for safety; only a fool would want to hide there. Luke and his friends had had plans. They’d had dreams. But they hadn’t realized how big Population Police headquarters were, how difficult it would be just to pass a message from one person to another. Luke couldn’t be sure he and his friends had accomplished anything. Sometimes when he was brushing down a horse, he’d whisper into the horse’s quivering ear, “Maybe I am just a worthless stableboy. Maybe that’s okay.”

  Luke had spent most of his thirteen years around hogs, not horses, and any hog would have looked back at him with its piggy eyes as if to say, So? You think I care? But the horses looked at Luke as if they understood. One horse in particular had a way of sliding her nose under Luke’s arm as if she were comforting him, as if she wanted to say, I know you’ve been through a lot. I know you’ve been hurt and hungry. I know you miss your family and friends. I know you’re scared. You just stay right here with me and you’ll be fine. Secretly, Luke called this horse Jenny, in memory of a friend of his, Jen Talbot. But deep down he knew that the human Jen would not have been so comforting. Jen probably would have screamed at him: What you are talking about? You’re not just some worthless stableboy. You’re important! Go out and change the world!

  Luke was starting to feel a little dizzy from not breathing. He dared to ease a little air out of his lungs, to take another shallow breath.

  The man with the medals on his chest was taking his time walking down the row of boys, staring into their eyes, reaching out to test their arm muscles.

  “You,” the man said, picking out the tallest kid in the row and shoving him to the other side of the room. “And you,” he said, yanking the most muscular boy out of the line.

  Luke allowed himself to take a deeper breath. He let himself notic
e how cold it was out here in the early morning chill, and think about how much warmer it would be back in the stables. Two down, only one to go—he was probably safe. Of the boys remaining, he wasn’t the tallest or the heaviest or the strongest. He was just a typical scrawny kid.

  The man narrowed his eyes, examining the boys left in the lineup. He grabbed one boy’s head so he could stare into the boy’s ears; he studied another boy’s straw-colored hair. Luke half expected the man to reach into some boy’s mouth to look at his teeth, the way the head groom did with the horses.

  Good thing Mrs. Talbot managed to get the braces off my teeth, Luke thought. He had a flash of remembering a light-hearted moment in the midst of sorrow and fear: him and his friends laughing in a cozy cottage while Mrs. Talbot tugged on metal bands and wires and protested, “Look, kids, orthodontia is not my specialty. What do they put these things on with? Cement?” In that moment, Luke hadn’t cared that the braces endangered him, linking him to a suspect past. He hadn’t even cared that all her tugging and scraping hurt. He’d just been happy to laugh with his friends.

  Now something caught in his throat, and he had to swallow hard to fight back his memories, to hold back his sense that he deserved to be—no, that he was—more than a worthless, lonely stableboy. Maybe he made a little noise, deep in his throat. The man with the medals on his chest snapped his head toward Luke, focused the gaze of his narrowed eyes squarely on Luke’s face. The man gave Luke a cruel, thin-lipped smile. In horror, Luke watched the man slowly lift his arm—higher, higher, and higher, until it was aimed straight out from his body, the first finger extended.

  “You,” the man said.

  He was pointing at Luke.

  Chapter Two

  Luke sat numbly in the backseat of a huge van. He’d been given no explanation of where he was going, no chance to gather up his belongings or to say good-bye to anyone. Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to know where he was going, and he had no belongings to speak of anyhow. But as the car passed out of the gates of Population Police headquarters, he had to bite back a scream: No, wait—stop! I have to talk to Nina and Trey and Nedley and Matthias. And, oh, Mark—my brother—I don’t even know if he’s here! Please! I have to tell them—

  The van zoomed on, and Luke kept silent. It wasn’t safe even to speak his friends’ names. It wasn’t safe to reveal that he knew them, that he’d ever had a life beyond shoveling manure for the Population Police.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the boy beside Luke asked. Luke realized that he’d been wincing, that he’d failed to hide his anguish completely.

  “I, uh—I’m going to miss the horses,” Luke said.

  “Why? You still have their stink on you,” the boy said, and laughed rudely. He scooted away from Luke, closer to the boy on the other side of him, who laughed too. Luke heard them whispering about “stable rats.”

  And then Luke really did miss the horses, particularly Jenny with her comforting gaze.

  What am I going to do? Luke wondered. Nina and the others won’t know what happened to me. What if they think I’ve chickened out and run away? What if they’re counting on me for one of our plans, and I’m not there? What if the plan is ruined because of that and someone gets hurt or killed or—discovered?

  So many of their plans had gone wrong already. Luke and his friends had been terrified just stepping foot in Population Police headquarters. The Population Police had been created more than a dozen years ago, after a series of droughts and famines had made many people fear that their entire country would starve. The Government made it illegal for any family to have more than two children, and it was the job of the Population Police to hunt down and kill third children.

  Luke was a third child. So were Nina and Trey and Matthias…all his friends.

  Jen had been a third child too, but she’d been so brave and foolhardy that she’d organized a rally to ask for rights and freedom. She’d died at that rally. It had happened ten months ago, but the more time passed, the worse Luke felt about it.

  That was just one of the reasons he felt capable of little more than shoveling manure.

  If anyone can defeat the Population Police, it’s us. The words flickered in Luke’s mind like a lightbulb about to go out. That was what Trey had said back in the fall, persuading everyone to go to Population Police headquarters to try to sabotage the group from within. Trey was the smartest kid Luke knew. Why hadn’t he seen how that sentence could be flipped around?

  If we can’t defeat the Population Police, nobody can.

  Luke and his friends had tried to destroy certain Population Police documents, but there had been copies they hadn’t known about. They’d tried to protect rebels who were making fake identity cards for illegal third children, but the Population Police had killed the rebels anyway. They’d tried to pass out stockpiled food to starving people, but the Population Police had gotten it all back.

  If we can’t defeat the Population Police…Truly hopeless words seemed to push their way into his mind: Why bother?

  Luke closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. And then he surrendered himself to sleep.

  When he woke up, the van was stopped and the man with the medals on his chest was yelling at all the boys to get out and stand at attention.

  “We’re here! No time to waste! Out! Out, you lazy dogs!”

  Luke was used to being yelled at, because of the stables. He knew that yells were quickly followed by swats and boxed ears and beatings if he didn’t obey instantly. He stumbled through the van door before he’d even glanced outside. An icy wind pushed at him the minute he landed on the ground; mud sucked at his boots and made walking difficult. But he lined up and snapped his arm into attention position. Only then did he dare to look around, letting his eyes dart from side to side.

  They were parked before a long, low building, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but mud. No—there was more: A lineup of jeeps, more than Luke had ever seen before, stood idling just beyond the building. Uniformed men came rushing out of the building toward the vehicles. The man with the medals started counting off boys and shoving them in the direction of the jeeps.

  “You two, go with Officer Ludwick. Over there. You two, with Officer Straley. You two—” The man pounded Luke’s back, almost knocking him to the ground. Between the wind and his struggle to keep from falling, Luke barely heard the man’s orders. Did he say Luke was supposed to go with Officer Hook? Or was it Officer Hawk? He hoped the other boy with him—the one who’d said Luke smelled like horse manure—had been paying attention. Luke scrambled off behind everyone else.

  The mud still tugged at his boots, almost pulling one off. A memory flashed through his mind from childhood: Luke and his brothers running barefoot through mud. Barefoot was so much easier, but Mother always made them spray off their feet before they came into the house….

  And then Luke shut that memory off, slamming a door in his mind. He couldn’t think about Mother or his brothers right now. He just had to concentrate on reaching the proper jeep, sliding in, pulling his feet away from the ground before the jeep leaped forward.

  “Officer Houk signing out, jeep serial number 80256,” said one of the men in the front seat. He was speaking into a small phonelike object, maybe a walkie-talkie or some other kind of two-way radio. “With one driver and”—he glanced at Luke and the other boy in the backseat—“two assistants. Bound for Chiutza. Over.”

  “Copy that. Mission approved,” a voice crackled out of the radio.

  Chiutza? Luke thought. Is that a place? He’d never heard of it, but there was so much he’d never heard of before. He’d never even stepped foot off his parents’ farm until he was twelve years old. His parents hadn’t liked to discuss things beyond the edges of their property.

  “Why talk of things that only make us sad?” Luke’s mother had explained once, tears glistening in her eyes.

  Luke couldn’t remember what he’d asked her that particular da
y. He could remember asking only once about why he’d had to hide, why the Government thought it was wrong for him to be alive, why he couldn’t go around freely like his brothers did. He wished now that he’d asked lots of questions: What did you think my life would be worth, hiding like that? What did you think would become of me? Why didn’t you and all your friends and neighbors and the rest of the country do something to stop the Government, way back in the beginning? What would you do if you were in a speeding jeep and everyone thought you were on the Population Police’s side and you had to pretend to be, but really—

  “Here.” The man holding the radio surprised Luke by tossing something into the backseat. “We’ve got at least an hour before we get there. Eat.”

  Luke started to reach for the packet that landed between him and the other boy, but the other boy grabbed it first. The boy peeled back greasy paper to reveal two hunks of cornbread, which he instantly crammed into his mouth in one bite. He chewed with his mouth open, leering at Luke and dropping crumbs on the seat.

  “But—” The wind carried away Luke’s protest. Luke clamped his teeth together, swallowing everything he wanted to say.

  “You’ll need your energy in Chiutza,” Officer Houk said from the front seat. Now he turned around, now that all evidence of the other boy’s greed was out of sight. “You have to knock on every door and summon every resident to a meeting in the town square.”

  “Why?” It was the other boy who asked this. Stealing Luke’s food must have made him cocky.

  Luke flinched, waiting for Officer Houk to reach back and strike the boy, and maybe Luke, too, for good measure. But Officer Houk only frowned.

  “We’re issuing new identification cards to every citizen in the country,” Officer Houk said. “We’re doing it all at once, in a single day. That’s where all these jeeps are going, to give out the I.D.’s in other towns and villages.” He gestured at the vehicles ahead of them and behind them, some already turning off the main road to smaller, rutted paths.