The Declaration

trying her hardest not to shrink back at the mere sight of him. She turned back to the vat and continued to scrape the meat into it, but she could feel his eyes boring into her neck and it made her uncomfortable.
    ‘Your little friend,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Where is he?’
    Anna frowned and looked at him uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said evenly. ‘I don’t have friends, Charlie.’
    Charlie moved closer so that Anna could feel his breath on the back of her neck. ‘Surplus Peter,’ he said coldly. ‘Where is he?’
    Anna stopped what she was doing. Charlie was in Peter’s dormitory. If he didn’t know where Peter was, then who did?
    Cautiously, she turned round. ‘Why do you want to know where Peter is?’ she asked.
    Charlie smirked. ‘I knew it. So, he went running to you, did he?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘You know that Surplus is trouble, don’t you, Anna? You know that he deserves everything he gets. And you do too.’
    Anna gripped the knife she was holding.
    ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said flatly, forcing herself to look Charlie in the eye, to show that he didn’t intimidate her. He was no threat, she reminded herself. She was a Prefect. She wasn’t a weak Surplus ripe for bullying.
    Charlie shrugged. ‘If he went running to you, it won’t make any difference. He had it coming. Needs to learn some respect. Mrs Pincent understands, you know, Anna. She knows that Peter only got what he deserved, so there’s no point telling her any different. You think you’re her favourite Surplus, but you’re not. She pities you.’
    Anna felt her stomach clench in anger. ‘No one pities me, Surplus Charlie,’ she growled.
    Charlie smirked, and leant down closer to Anna. ‘Everyone pities you, Surplus Anna. Peter especially,’ he said, his voice menacing. ‘Why do you think he tries to protect you? Because he thinks you’re pathetic, that’s why.’
    Anna stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘Protect me?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    ‘I’m talking about this,’ Charlie growled, opening his overalls to reveal a large greeny-black bruise stretching across his chest. ‘He’s a maniac. And all because I said the most useful thing they could do with you is to put you out of your Surplus misery. I meant it too.’
    Anna could feel Charlie’s breath on her forehead and she jutted out her chin to show him she wasn’t scared.
    ‘Wherever he is,’ Charlie continued menacingly, ‘I’ll find him. I kicked his head in because he deserved it and I’ll do it again too. I’ll kill him if I have to. Mrs Pincent won’t care. And I’ll be sure to make it look like an accident, don’t you worry about that.’
    Before Anna could say anything in response, Charlie walked off, just missing a Domestic who had come to check on Anna’s work.
    ‘Hurry up,’ she shouted angrily, staring at the still raw contents of the vat. ‘Get on with it, you lazy Surplus.’
    ‘Yes,’ Anna said, her voice level in spite of her racing mind. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll be quicker now.’
    She added boiling water along with a packet of powdered stock to add bulk to the stew, but as she stirred the mixture, all thoughts of Evening Vows had left her head. Instead, all she could think about was Peter. About the trouble he was in. About the conviction, deep down inside of her, that she had to tell him, had to warn him. She knew it was out of the question; knew that it would mean breaking every rule that she had so vigorously upheld for most of her life. But she also knew that she didn’t have a choice. Peter was her friend, however much she tried to deny it. And Anna, who had never before allowed her heart’s voice to be heard, was now unwillingly and unavoidably in its thrall.
    At 1 a.m., Anna lay awake in her bed, contemplating what she was about to do, working out how long it would take her to get to Solitary to see if Peter was there, how likely it was that she would disturb a Surplus in her dorm or, worse, get caught once outside. There were no longer cameras along the corridors of Grange Hall – those that had been installed originally had proved too expensive to run and there was no money for replacements. But Mrs Pincent didn’t need cameras to keep the Surpluses at Grange Hall in their beds at night; she preferred to rely on good, old-fashioned fear, preferred to stalk the corridors herself when she couldn’t sleep, which was