From the smell, Sam concluded she was cooking a fish.

Astrid heard him but did not look up as he approached. “I don’t want to have a fight,” she said.

“Me neither,” he said.

She poked at the fish with a fork. It smelled delicious, although it didn’t look too good.

“Get a plate,” Astrid said. “Have some fish.”

“That’s okay, I’m—”

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” she snapped, still poking at the fish.

“I thought you didn’t want a fight?”

Astrid shoveled the mostly cooked fish onto a serving dish and set it aside. “You weren’t going to tell us about Orsay?”

“I didn’t say I—”

“You don’t get to decide that, Sam. You’re not the only one in charge anymore. Okay?”

Astrid had an icy sort of anger. A cold fury that manifested itself in tight lips and blazing eyes and short, carefully enunciated sentences.

“But it’s okay for all of us to lie to everyone in Perdido Beach?” Sam shot back.

“We’re trying to keep kids from killing themselves,” Astrid said. “That’s a little different from you just deciding not to tell the council that there’s a crazy girl telling people to kill themselves.”

“So not telling you something is a major sin, but lying to a couple of hundred people and trashing Orsay at the same time, that’s fine?”

“I don’t think you really want to have this debate with me, Sam,” Astrid warned.

“Yeah, because I’m just a dumb surfer who shouldn’t even be questioning Astrid the Genius.”

“You know what, Sam? We created the council to take pressure off of you. Because you were falling apart.”

Sam just stared at her. Not quite believing she’d said it. And Astrid seemed shocked herself. Shocked at the venom behind her own words.

“I didn’t mean…,” she started lamely, but then couldn’t find her way to explaining just what it was she didn’t mean.

Sam shook his head. “You know, even now, as long as we’ve been together it still surprises me that you can be so ruthless.”

“Ruthless? Me?”

“You will use anyone to get what you want. Say anything to get your way. Why was I ever even in charge?” He stabbed an accusing finger at her. “Because of you! Because you manipulated me into it. Why? So I would protect you and Little Pete. That’s all you cared about.”

“That’s a lie!” she said hotly.

“You know it’s the truth. And now you don’t have to bother manipulating me, you can just give me orders. Embarrass me. Undercut me. But as soon as some problem hits, guess what? It’ll be, oh, please, Sam, save us.”

“Anything I do, I do for everyone’s good,” Astrid said.

“Yeah, so you’re not just a genius now, you’re a saint.”

“You are being irrational,” Astrid said coldly.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m crazy,” Sam snapped. “That’s me, crazy Sam. I’ve been shot, beaten, whipped, and I’m crazy because I don’t like you ordering me around like your servant.”

“You’re really a jerk, you know that?”

“Jerk?” Sam shrilled. “That’s all you’ve got? I was sure you’d have something with more syllables.”

“I have plenty of syllables for you,” Astrid said, “but I’m trying not to use language I shouldn’t.”

She made a show of calming herself down. “Now, listen to me, without interrupting. Okay? You’re a hero. I get that. I believe it. But we’re trying to make the transition to having a normal society. Laws and rights and juries and police. Not one person making all the important decisions and then enforcing his will by shooting killer light beams at anyone who annoys him.”

Sam started to reply, but he didn’t trust himself. Didn’t trust himself not to say something he shouldn’t, something he might not be able to take back.

“I’m getting my stuff,” he said, and bolted for the steps.

“You don’t have to move out,” Astrid called after him.

Sam stopped halfway up the steps. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that the voice of the council telling me where I can go?”

“There’s no point having a town council if you think you don’t have to listen to it,” Astrid said. She was using her patient voice, trying to calm the situation. “Sam, if you ignore us, no one will pay attention.”

“Guess what, Astrid, they’re already ignoring you. The only reason anyone pays any attention to you and the others is because they’re scared of Edilio’s soldiers.” He thumped his chest. “And even more scared of me.”

He stormed up the stairs, grimly pleased with her silence.

Justin got lost once on his way home. He ended up at the school, though, and that was okay, because he knew how to get to his house from there.

Three-oh-one Sherman. He had memorized it a long time ago. He used to know his phone number, too. He had forgotten that. But he had not forgotten 301 Sherman.

His house looked kind of funny when he saw it. The grass was way too tall. And there was a black bag all split open on the sidewalk. Old milk cartons and cans and bottles. That was all supposed to go in recycling. It sure wasn’t supposed to be on the sidewalk. His daddy would go crazy if he ever saw that.