“Davy?” Sean’s there, sitting up beside me. I blink at the empty space surrounding us and lower my body back down on the bed, clutching the sheets to my chest in knotted fists. I gaze at the ceiling, focusing on the web of spidery cracks in the vinyl-covered ceiling.

Sean settles beside me. His hand curls around my arm in a loose touch.

“Bad dream?” His deep voice rumbles through the dark.

I nod. It’s easier than explaining that I woke because I was afraid a manifestation of the guy I killed might have decided to come visit me again.

“Are you okay?”

My voice scratches across the air papery-thin. “Yes.”

“Why do I feel like you’re just telling me that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

It’s what I want to hear, too. It’s what I want to be true.

I face Sean in the dark. He’s so close but feels far away from me. It’s as if I left him in the past. Back at Mount Haven, where they were grooming us to be something more than the killer stamped onto our genetic code. Something worse. Except he isn’t gone. He’s here. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, Davy. That’s called caring.”

“I know. I care about you, too.” I’m just not sure I can be with you anymore. Not like this. Not the way you want me to be. Not the way you deserve.

After a moment, his hand slips from my arm and some of my tension whispers free, and I hate this. Hate that I’ve pulled away from him and he knows it. Sabine noticed. He’d be a fool not to notice. If it wouldn’t be so awkward, I would move into Sabine’s room across the hall. But that would only be like waving a red flag that something is wrong, that I’m broken.

“Good night, Davy.”

“Good night,” I return.

I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be fine. Broken things get fixed all the time. I’ll stop being so weird around Sean, and everything—the world included—will work itself out.

* * *

A beautiful eagle was gliding through the vast skies when he heard the hiss of an arrow. He screeched as the tip pierced his body. Mortally wounded, he plunged down to earth, his life-blood draining into the sand. Looking down at the arrow jutting from his side, the eagle discovered that the shaft had been feathered with one of his very own plumes—his destruction that of his own creation.

—Aesop’s Fables, “The Eagle and the Arrow”

TWO

GIL HAS TAKEN TO PREPARING OUR DINNERS, AND IF I never eat another peanut butter sandwich again, that would be just fine with me. I long for a warm meal. French fries. God, pizza.

“I miss my mother’s cooking,” Sabine murmurs, tearing off bits of her sandwich and placing them in her mouth. “She made schnitzel and sauerbraten. Like the real deal, you know?” She cocks her head to the side. “Think I’ll ever have German food again?”

“In Germany,” Gil volunteers.

Sabine laughs without humor. “Yeah. My chances of going back home to Garden City, Idaho, to visit my family are better than me making it to Germany.” Sabine hasn’t said much about her family up to this point. I know she’s one of six kids—the only one with HTS. Her father considered taking her and running away, but he couldn’t abandon the rest of the family. Not just for her. I think she understands that, but it must sting nonetheless, knowing you’re the sacrifice.

“Where we’re headed?” Gil shakes his head. “I doubt you’ll ever see bratwurst again. Your mom never taught you to cook?”

“She tried. I never paid attention. I was too into robotics.”

“I never knew you were a tech geek.” Gil’s face brightens.

“I wasn’t that great at it, but yeah. I was on my high school robotics team.”

“You must have been good. They brought you to Mount Haven for some reason.”

“Yeah, because I speak German and passable French. Not that that’s gonna help me much in Mexico.” She reaches for a pudding cup, tearing it apart from the others in the pack. It’s like she feels the pressure of our gazes, though. She looks up and gives a small shrug. “And I had a nearly perfect GPA.”

“Oh.” Gil rolls his eyes. “That might have been another factor.”

Tucking a long strand of brown hair behind her ear, she smiles at him, then glances at me and Sean.

“I miss my mom’s lasagna,” I volunteer, arriving at something to contribute to the conversation, determined to shake off my funk and be as normal as possible with my friends. Because they are my friends. The only friends I have left. I need to make an effort.

“Enchiladas,” Sean adds, taking a bite of his sandwich. Gil made him two. A good thing, considering he devours half a sandwich in one bite.

“I don’t think that will be a problem where we’re going. We should get some decent Mexican food at least.” Sabine reaches for another pudding cup. She peels the foil top back and licks it clean.

“We can hope,” I say.

“You kidding?” Gil shakes his head. “I’m expecting some serious Mexican food like what my abuela made. I can’t wait for some chicharrónes.”

I can’t help smiling. “Or what? It’s a deal breaker? We’ll stay here and eat peanut butter and pudding cups forever?”

“Hello, Debbie Downer,” Sabine teases, tossing empty pudding cups into the nearby trash can.