“Of course it’s a girl, knucklehead,” Bella says from her perch. “It’s not like you haven’t seen one before.”
“Where’d you find her?” Scout asks, stepping closer to me and reaching for a loose curl.
I brush his hands away. “What’s he talking about?”
“I told you, we don’t get girls here much. You’re the first girl other than Bella that we’ve seen in months,” Pete says, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.
Surrounded by hushed chatter, I pick Mikey up to keep him from being squished by the crowd. “But they’ve had Bella. What’s so interesting about me?”
“Oh, Bella’s just our sister, she doesn’t count,” one of the younger boys says, tying off the opening to his rock pouch.
A light-eyed boy peers up at me. “You’re much too big to be a sister.”
“Oh boy,” Bella says, slapping her forehead with a hand. She leaps off the boulder, landing in front of me. “I haven’t seen this much drama since Girl Guides. She’s just a dumb girl. Can we move on?” She marches over to Pete and takes his hand. “Let’s go, Pete.”
Pete pulls his hand from Bella’s and steps toward me. “Go on ahead, Bella. Take Mikey and the boys with you. We’ll be along soon. Scout, make sure Mikey gets settled in.”
Bella’s cheeks flush and she balls up her fists. Whirling, she stomps off.
“Sure thing, Pete!” Scout puts a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “Follow me, kid. You’re going to like the Lost City. It beats topside hands down.”
Mikey peers up at me. I glance at Pete.
“It’s okay. You’re safe with Scout,” Pete says, ruffling Mikey’s hair.
When Mikey looks back at me, I nod. I put him down and he follows the chattering Lost Boys, who trail behind Scout. Mikey takes one last look at me before disappearing behind a corner.
I am alone in the tunnel with Pete. My stomach flutters as he places a lamp on the ground and leans against the rock next to me.
“Sorry about Bella,” Pete says. “She’s been rather attached to me since I first found her. I think she might fancy me.” His cheeks grow pink as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I probably should have warned you that you’d be sort of a celebrity.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” I say. “I’m just like the rest of you.”
“But you’re not like the rest of us,” Pete says, turning to face me, his shoulder leaning against the rock. “This whole time these boys, especially the Littles, have only had the influence of one another. In some ways they are all brothers. In other ways we’re a tribe. The stronger, faster, and bigger determine the pecking order. There is no semblance of the old life they once knew, of having the strong father figure and the nurturing mother figure. You’re the closest thing to a mother any of these kids has seen in a year.”
My cheeks flush and a sense of déjà vu comes over me as I recall my conversation with Joanna before she was taken. You were a much better sister than you are a mother.
“But I’m not a mother of any sort.”
“For months I have been surrounded by orphaned boys, children who have no family to go home to. No fathers, no mothers, and other than Bella, not even sisters.” Pete runs a hand through his messy hair and drops his gaze to the ground. “Becoming an orphan changes a person, especially the way these kids have become parentless. They’re not typical kids. Something was stolen from them when they watched their parents die, like a piece of what makes them children perished with their folks. Survival becomes instinct and they lose what makes them, I don’t know”—he pauses—“kids. The Biggers and I do our best to provide the Littles with some likeness of family, but it just isn’t the same. With you here, maybe, just maybe, they can have some of that back. Joanna and Mikey have you. These kids have no one.”
A pang of sympathy grips me as I contemplate his words. I never considered how fortunate my siblings and I were; not only were we spared witnessing our parents’ final breaths, but we’ve had each other. “I’m just their sister, and not a very good one at that,” I say, reflecting on my last conversation with Joanna. “I’m practically a child myself.”
“You are their family, and whether you accept it or not, you are the closest thing they’ve got to family,” he says.
The weight of his words hangs in the air, and I struggle to find a response.
Pete rubs the back of his neck. “Look, there’s something else I need to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice a little snarkier than I intend. “None of today has been much fun. I highly doubt any news you have could make it worse.”
Pete scratches his stubbled chin and studies me. “I’m not sure how to put this delicately, so I’ll just come out with it.” He takes in a big breath and blows it out. “Our dwindling supplies and the Marauders are the least of my worries.”