Savage Drift

^{CHAPTER FOURTEEN} JOSIE

In the morning Mario is all over me about the letter.

“Imagine when those reporters find out you’re in here,” Mario tells me. For the first time since we had arrived, his eyes are twinkling again.

It reminds me of the long days we spent in his bomb shelter. He’d talk and plan and rub his hands together, so happy was he in anticipating Niko’s face when we were reunited. Or how good it was going to be for me when we tracked down my parents.

Sometimes it seems like my future is the only thing keeping Mario Scietto going.

Now he has that same fire back. He wants to get the attention of the reporters.

“We’ll hail them down and you start talking. You should say, ‘I’m Josie Miller, from this article here about the Monument Fourteen!’ just as loud as you can. Once they find out you’re in here, they’ll get you out. Special-interest story—absolutely. The power of the press! You’re presumed dead! They love that stuff.”

The kids are listening to us. Freddy bouncing on the bed he and Aidan share. Lori braiding Heather’s hair.

My body feels like it has been backed over by a delivery truck. Everywhere aches. My knees are skinned raw. I feel them sticking to my jeans. My knuckles are a mess, already festering around the edges.

“And don’t mind what happens to me,” Mario continues. “I’m going to keep Venger off you until you catch the ear of one of those reporters.”

“You can’t,” I say.

“Hell yes, I can!” he continues. “Maybe me and the kids can make a distraction.”

“Yeah, yeah!” they agree.

“Maybe I could fall and trip someone and then I’ll be like, ‘I’m hurt! Somebody help me!’” Aidan suggests.

“No, no, I have it!” Freddy interrupts. “Can anyone vomit on demand?”

“Shut up!” I shout. “No one is helping me do anything.”

Mario raises his hands to argue me down. He knows I will protest.

“It’s not because I don’t want help or I’m being tough,” I say, cutting him off. “Look, last night Venger threatened me.”

Just saying his name tightens my empty stomach into a knot of dread.

“He said if I step out of line he will send me away for some kind of medical testing. I don’t know why he has it in for me, but he does.”

Mario looks at me, his mouth set into a grim line.

“And if you guys help me, he could do it to you. He could send you away. No,” I continue. “What we’re going to do is lie low. Just like you say, Mario, ‘Look down. Look dumb.’ I’m going to play it really safe. I’m not going to provoke Venger. And we’ll get through this together. If, if I can get a completely safe chance to talk to someone, I will. Okay, you guys?”

I look to Mario.

He is studying me, trying to figure me out.

I am faking an interest in the group. Faking a new desire to protect the kids. Faking. No way am I going to let Mario get himself killed trying to talk to reporters on my behalf.

“You know,” Mario says, scratching his head. “A better thing to do might be to try to talk to one of the cafeteria ladies. They like me.”

“Maybe they would smuggle a note out!” Lori says.

“Yeah!” Freddy shouts.

Fine, let him sweet talk the lunch ladies.

Maybe it would work.

On the way to breakfast we have to pass through the Men’s hall and I nearly bolt.

The men are already out, but still, my heart races to be there.

Lori takes my hand.

I don’t want to hold her cold-fish hand, but I do.

We see Venger, too, out in the courtyard, talking with some guards.

I keep my head down. Don’t make eye contact.

He can think me cowed.

That is just fine. Lori squeezes my hand.

I try to walk like I’m not falling apart at the joints.

As we enter Plaza 900, Brett sidles up alongside me.

My Gram used to call kids like him gankly—gangly and lanky. Awkward for sure.

And the ratty little mustache isn’t helping his look.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I make myself say back.

“Can I talk to you a minute?”

Mario looks over, a question mark in his eyes.

I shrug.

“I’ll catch up,” I tell Mario.

My guard is up. He is going to make some demand. What does Carlo want?

Brett motions me off to the side, near the restrooms, where we can talk.

“You really know how to handle yourself,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps. Is he nervous, somehow? “I thought you were a goner last night.”

I shrug.

“What do you want?” I ask. My mouth is dry.

“Look, this is a weird way to say it, but you should get with me. Like, be my girlfriend.”

I must have shot him a shocked look, because he gets red in the face.

“I can protect you. Me and the Union Men. It’s not such a stupid idea.”

“No, no. It’s not that,” I stammer, stalling while my brain catches up with this bizarre situation.

What is bizarre is that the kid seems sincere. He is stroking his pathetic mustache.

“It’s just—have you looked at me?” I ask him. “I look like the walking dead.”

He smiles.

“You look pretty good to me.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me into his body.

I can’t help it—I push him away. Elbow his ribs and pushing myself off him. My heart is pounding.

“Don’t be like that,” he says.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s just—I’m not—”

And then I hear the other Union Men come into the entranceway.

“Watch yourself, Brett. She bites.” Carlo laughs.

“She’ll eat you for lunch, man,” another one jokes.

Brett’s face goes all red.

The moment slows down and with my eyes I try to say, I’m sorry. Wait. Of course I can’t “be with him.” But maybe…

Maybe we can be allies? Friends? Is that insane?

But the light in his eyes goes out. They turn flat and hard.

“Your loss, rabbit,” he says.

I sag against the wall and he rejoins his gang.