Free After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian) by Rosanne Rivers

way to become one is to be born into it. We’re taught about them in class but we never see their faces. They are spoken about so reverently I had begun to think of them as some superior force, hovering above each city, listening to the trigger cameras and organising the Debt.
    I certainly didn’t expect this lively, almost good-looking guy.
    ‘Oh. Wow.’ The words come out before I even know what I’m saying. It seems to make up for not knowing who he was because his grin swings back.
    ‘Indeed. I’m in charge of the Demonstrations so spend most of my time here in Zulu. Well, if you need me, my office is up there.’ He points to the watchtower. My stomach clenches in protest of last night’s memory. Shepherd Fines continues, ‘I hope you settle in well. Your trainer should be waiting for you in the first field. Train hard and your tour will be over before you know it. Great to meet you ladies.’ He clicks his teeth at us twice, as if he were calling over a horse, then turns back the way he came.
    I make a face at Alixis and can tell she’s thinking exactly the same as me: what the hell was that about?
    The other Demonstrators eye us curiously as we make our way to the field. A figure I recognise is running laps. Dylan.
    Right then it’s like I’ve passed through some invisible wall and into a land which makes my palms sweaty, causes my heart to hammer painfully and evaporates any kind of moisture from my mouth. The memory of our kiss illuminates in my mind as if I’ve walked into a room, switched the light on, and there we are, lying on the trampoline, our lips touching.
    It was so much easier to see him with the tryouts distracting me. Why didn’t I make my hair look nice this morning? My eye doesn’t hurt anymore, but I haven’t actually looked in a mirror since we arrived here, and for all I know a nasty black circle could be making me look like an old pirate.
    Why do I even care? It’s not like I really know him . . . but I do know how his lips taste and how his laugh is low and soft and how everything about him reminds me of calm, cool music.
    ‘Hey!’ Alixis calls, waving her arm in the air to get his attention. He looks up, nods, and jogs over.
    ‘Morning, you two.’ He speaks to Alixis, ignoring me. His matching uniform is marked with sweat.
    ‘Are you our trainer then?’ Alixis asks, looking round. Dylan nods a confirmation. He keeps his eyes down, scratching his back as if he’s trying to hide behind his elbow.
    He’s embarrassed to see me. I urge the heat which is flushing my face not to show.
    ‘You training those brothers, too?’ Alixis asks, and I swear there’s an edge of hope in her tone.
    ‘No. I haven’t seen them since the Medic’s Cabin. Right, let’s start.’ Dylan points to the grooves in the ground which mark lanes.
    ‘The first, and most important, part of training is getting your fitness levels up, which means running laps. Keep up.’ With that, he sets off again. Alixis looks to me once before sprinting after him in the next lane.
    Complete with an unhealthy amount of self-consciousness, I run to catch them up and slide into the lane next to Alixis.
    ‘We’—Alixis huffs in between breaths—’were promised answers.’
    ‘Ask away.’ How is Dylan’s voice still so perfect when he’s been jogging all this time?
    ‘What’s this tour everyone keeps talking about?’ Alixis asks.
    ‘The tour is how you pay back your Debt. You fight one Demonstration in each city around the country and end with a final fight in your home Stadium. Tickets to this fight are always expensive—so the Shepherds give the audience a twist. The worse the twist the less likely you’ll survive.’ He glances over to check we understand.
    ‘However, the more followers you get on Debtbook as the tour progresses, the more likely you’ll be given a fair last fight because the public won’t want to see you killed. Legs up, come on! If you survive your home fight, then you go back