The drawing blurred in my vision. I’d never find a friend that loyal if I lived a million years. She’d given me everything and I’d let her down.
That was my fault.
Someone entered the cottage. I turned to see Tyler coming in.
“Monkey-Face!” he shouted.
I quickly wiped my eyes. He ran up and wrapped his arms around my legs. Michael was behind him, standing in the doorway, smiling. Then he closed the door and put down his travel bag.
“You’re back.” I looked at Michael.
He shook his shaggy blond hair out of his face and looked surprised at the concern in my voice.
Tyler pulled away. “Michael brought me this.”
He waved a small toy truck and ran it over the top of the couch.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked. Michael had been out of my sight since Prime was demolished.
He shrugged. “Just needed some space.”
I knew that he wouldn’t say anything with Tyler there. I knew he had seen me holding hands with Blake, Senator Harrison’s grandson. Two puppets of the Old Man.
“Look, what you saw, that didn’t mean anything,” I said in a lowered voice. “And you, you and Florina—”
“That’s over.”
We stared at each other. Tyler was still playing, making car sounds, but of course he could hear us. I tried to think of what to say to explain my feelings, but I honestly didn’t know what my feelings were. The Old Man, Blake, Michael—it was all so jumbled.
My phone beeped a reminder: three unread Zings.
“Someone dying to reach you?” Michael asked.
The Zings were all from Blake. He’d been trying to contact me since the day I saw him at Prime’s destruction.
“It’s him, right?” Michael said.
I shoved the phone into my pocket, cocked my head, and gave him a look that said “don’t push me.”
Tyler glanced anxiously from Michael to me.
“We’re going to the mall,” Tyler said. “To get me shoes.”
“Without asking me first?” I clung to my shoulder bag and stared at Michael.
“He begged me,” Michael said. “And his favorites are too small now.”
“He’s growing so fast, better buy two sizes.”
We were all glad to see Tyler healthy after a year squatting in cold buildings. “Come with us,” Tyler said.
“I’d love to, but I’m off.”
“Where to?” Michael asked.
“Our old neighborhood. To feed the Starters.”
“Want help?” Michael asked.
“Why? You think I can’t do this alone?” I said.
As soon as I snapped, I wished I could suck the words back in. Michael looked so hurt. Tyler’s mouth fell open in an “uh-oh” moment.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Michael. “Thanks for offering. Really. But I think I can handle it. You guys should go to the mall.”
“You could meet us for lunch,” Tyler said. “After we get my shoes.”
He took Michael’s hand and gave me his best “please please” face. We were the closest thing he had to parents, and he was doing everything he could to pull us together. What I really wanted was to make our parents magically reappear; to have our family back again. But I would have to settle for just fulfilling my brother’s small request.
I balanced the duffel bag on my shoulder as I pushed open the side door of the abandoned office building that had been home for Michael and Tyler—and Florina—when I was being rented out. I stepped into the lobby and saw the reception desk, vacant as usual. I would never have admitted it to Michael, but my heart was beating harder. Faster. I held my breath to listen for any signs of danger. I was familiar with the place, but things change. Who knew which Starters lived here now?
I walked over to the reception desk to make sure no one was hiding, ready to attack. It was clear. I set my duffel bag on the counter, unzipped it, and pulled out a towel. As I was wiping the counter, I heard footsteps behind me. Before I realized what was happening, someone darted by and grabbed the whole bag.
“Hey!” I shouted.
A chubby little Starter ran to the exit, clutching my bag. Several sandwiches spilled out and dropped to the floor.
“That’s supposed to be for everyone, you little jerk!” I yelled.
He burst through the door. I’d never catch up.
I ran around from behind the desk and bent down to pick up the food that had fallen. I had my hand on a wrapped sandwich when someone stepped on me.
“Back off.” It was a Starter girl, maybe a year older than I was.
She held a plank of wood like a bat, ready to strike. The rusty nails at the end of the plank convinced me not to fight. I nodded. She eased her foot off my hand and I pulled it away.