“I know, I know. He’s gonna turn out to be some kind of lizard person who wants to eat our faces off. But how about we deal with that after we get everybody some new underwear?”
Greer kept on chattering away, but his voice faded out just like Gonzalez’s had. The sketchbook had fallen open to a drawing of Black Panther. I went to close it but ended up flipping ahead until I came to the end again, to Cardinal. The way the moonlight washed out the colors, it looked like those early pages, the ones you and I shared as the snow fell on the fire escape outside our window. I could almost feel you beside me as I traced the curve of Cardinal’s wing with my fingertips.
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
Greer stopped whatever he was saying and turned to me. “What?”
I looked up. “Tomorrow morning. To find those kids. I’m coming with you.”
“Seriously?”
“There’s a trail from here to Joseph’s Point that doesn’t go through town. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“But what about Gonzalez? And Raney?”
“As soon as we get those kids back here, we figure out where they belong and we get them there. Same with the green-haired girl.”
“Uh, yeah. Great.”
“Who knows,” I said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll all have family in town just dying to take them back.”
Greer laced his fingers behind his head and lay back near the streambed.
“Us getting lucky,” he said. “I wonder what that’ll feel like.”
By the time Greer and I made it back to camp, it was raining again. I stopped at the equipment shed to grab a few things before starting up the trail to look for the green-haired girl.
I found her not far from my own campsite. She was crouched between two boulders at the edge of the mountain. When I came out of the trees, she spun around, holding up one hand to ward off the glare of the flashlight. My knife was in her other hand. She held it just like she had held that shard of glass, marking out the borders of my world and hers with its tip.
“I brought you a tent,” I said. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep the rain off.”
The girl didn’t say anything, so I backed away and started assembling it nearby. She didn’t take her eyes off me the entire time. When I had it set up, I pulled the other things I’d brought her out of a backpack, holding up each one before putting it inside the tent.
“Flashlight. Dry sweatshirt and socks. One can of tuna and some crackers. Bottle of water.” I pointed back the way I’d come. “My camp is just a couple minutes down that path. If you need anything else—”
“I won’t.”
There was nothing left to say, but I couldn’t seem to leave. My eyes went to the knife in her hand. The rain splashed against it, sluicing down its sides and dripping off its row of teeth. I wanted it back, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe I wanted her to feel the way I did when I held it, like I was anchored in place. Or maybe I just didn’t want her to see how much I needed it.
“Try to get some sleep,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll figure out where you belong.”
There was a rumble of thunder. I turned to go. Her voice cut through the rain behind me.
“What if I don’t belong anywhere?”
I stopped. Turned back. The silver key around her neck glinted in the flashlight’s beam.
“Everybody belongs somewhere.”
9
THE NEXT MORNING, Greer and I found the boy and the girl cowering inside a shelter they’d constructed out of brush and a moldy tarp. They were all jutting bones and pale skin, livid with mosquito bites. The boy warned us away with a rusty butter knife, but after an hour or two of Greer’s patient convincing the kid dropped it and they came with us.
When we got to the camp, they were both clearly overwhelmed, the boy most of all. He stood there rigid, his eyes wide. The girl went into big-sister mode. She grabbed his hand and drew him a little bit behind her, shielding his body with hers.
It was hard to blame him for being freaked out. The camp was in its usual state of semi-chaos. The kids were tearing from one end of the place to the other, cleaning cabins and hanging laundry on lines strung between the boys’ cabin and the dining hall. Makela was running the show, like she always did. She stood on a chair at the center of camp, clipboard in hand, barking out instructions. Jenna and Crystal, her loyal minions and enforcers, flanked her.
Greer came up beside me. “Is it possible that Makela was the dictator of a small country in her past life?”
“What are they up to? It’s not like them to clean without being asked.”
“They are a constant source of mystery,” Greer said. “Yo! Astrid!”
Greer whistled, and Astrid, Carrie, and Tomiko headed toward us. Dreamy girls with grubby hands and matted hair, they were the polar opposites of Makela and her friends.
Greer squatted down and drew the Joseph’s Point kids close, one hand on each of their knobby shoulders. “My friends are going to find you some new clothes and something to eat. Okay?”