Kip sighed and clucked his tongue casually, as though trying to decide which pair of pants to wear. Finally, he shook the gun at us. “The Mole stays.”
He was right: I couldn’t afford to negotiate. But neither could he. “No deal.”
Another moment passed, and Kip broke into his carefree grin. “Oh, all right.” He circled the gun in the air. “One big happy road trip. Mount up, as they say. Time to go.”
Cassa stared daggers at the back of his head, but eventually straightened and released her grip on Meghan. “All aboard. Quick like bunnies, before we change our minds. You two in front. Wouldn’t want Isaiah to miss the scenery.”
I wasn’t much for goodbyes, and definitely not hugs, so it was a moment before I spoke again. I paused, almost to the driver’s seat. “Meghan… thank you.”
She only nodded. “Give ’em hell.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Isaiah settled in next to me. We slammed the doors shut. I tried to relax, knowing that in a moment, I’d have a gun to my neck. Kip made a show of settling into the back seat, smiling indulgently, like a father giving a small child a piggyback ride.
Cassa was taking longer than I expected. When she opened the door, I forced myself to relax again. I focused on Meghan, who was still looking at me. She seemed satisfied. Almost happy.
She was still watching me when Cassa shot her.
Cassa was a fair shot, and this was close range, a direct hit to the head. Even knowing it was over, I couldn’t stop myself from lunging for the car door. Immediately, the burning barrel of the gun pressed into my neck. Cassa was already seated behind me. A scalding sensation spread up into my scalp, and I screamed. Before me, Meghan’s body hit the ground.
“Drive. Now,” Cassa said into my ear.
I made an awful, whimpering sound, and Isaiah’s hand slid over mine.
“He’s next,” said Cassa, moving the gun to point at Isaiah.
Isaiah squeezed my hand. I drove.
The silence stretched out like tar. It was a trick I learned my first week inside: how to cry without making any noise. Every soul in juvy had it down cold.
Isaiah’s hand was warm against mine, his skin dry and soft. Every so often, he’d give me a little pat, or another squeeze, and the road would blur until I blinked. I held my hand still, afraid that any movement would cause him to take his hand away. He couldn’t have known how much I needed it there.
After a moment, Kip’s pale, icy fingers touched the spot on my neck where the barrel of the gun had been. I shivered hard.
“There, there, love. She was practically already dead anyway.”
I forced my words through clenched teeth. “Then, why?”
Kip shrugged, and his hand mercifully left my neck. “Have to ask Cass that one.”
“Because he came back for you,” she said. I glanced back in confusion. They’d come back to follow me, not save me.
Kip shot me a strange look through the greasy strands of black hair that had fallen across his face before turning to rifle through my bags in the back seat, keeping the gun in one hand. “Once again, you don’t disappoint.”
Cassa’s eyes widened at the sight of food. “Maybe you were onto something after all, love,” she said to Kip.
They tore into the sandwiches. Cassa stuffed half the first one into her mouth. Kip did the same a moment later. The chips came next. She crunched them loudly. Through the rear view mirror, I watched her wipe her hands on the seat, leaving streaks of grease dotted with crumbs.
A light rain splattered against the windshield, and the wipers began their rhythmic response. Kip, Isaiah, and I were silent, and Cassa had little to say of interest. She mostly commented, between gulps of food, about the plight of the people we passed. “Toast. Toast. Space debris, look at her.” I wrestled thoughts of Meghan to the back of my mind. It was probably the only chance I’d get to plan my next move.
I had a few things in my favor, in spite of the gun at my back. Namely, Kip and Cassa didn’t know about the starpass. I had no idea how they planned to find the Remnant, if it even existed, and without a starpass, they couldn’t hope to board an OPT. The launch sites were, at this point, literally the most secure places on Earth. Also, Kip and Cassa were likely to underestimate Isaiah, which would be a mistake.
The thought gave me pause. Isaiah didn’t have a pass, either. When it came right down to it, as it inevitably would, was I prepared to give him mine?
I thought not, and shuddered. That I could even consider leaving him behind made me sick.
What kind of person had Meghan tried to save?
Another question prickled me: where had my mother gotten an extra starpass? Surely she’d never steal one. To do so would deprive her victim of their very life, an action my mother seemed incapable of. I mean, she was a doctor. She was all about saving people. But she was a mother first, and she still seemed to love me.
It was possible that she’d taken the pass from a deceased patient. In such cases, though, the next of kin or the government would likely want the pass returned to them. Maybe someone had died, and Mom didn’t report it. Whatever the case, I was grateful.
The car had a full charge, so we breezed around Boston and headed up the coast. I was lost in thought, and still without a plan, when Isaiah’s mellow voice broke my reverie.
“If you were stuck here, would you rather know, or not know?” he asked.
I glanced at him. “About the Pinball?”
“Yeah.”
“You are stuck here,” said Cassa.
I ignored her. “Like, does the knowing make it worse?” I thought about it for a moment. “It probably depends on the person. I’d definitely want to know.”
“Not me,” said Kip. “Life is uncertain anyway.”
“So you never made any mistakes?” I asked. “Nothing you’d have done differently, if you knew it was your last day?”
Kip was quieter. “There may be a few things I’d have done differently. But I’m not sure knowing would have changed anything. Not for me.”
“What difference does it make?” Cassa sounded irritated. Again.
Kip turned to look out the window. “Oh, nothing, I guess.”
“Just, being able to plan,” I said.
“Planning to die. Sounds awesome,” she said.
“No, planning how to live.”
“Better get to it, then. What time is it? Two? So you’ve got ten hours till the gate closes.”
Isaiah ignored her. “I wouldn’t want to know the day. We all got to go sometime. Pinball or no, it’s coming.”
“There’s a lot of clarity that comes from knowing it’s today, though,” I said.
He turned to me. For a moment, I imagined he could see through those dark glasses, straight inside me. Maybe he could. “Are you seeing things more clearly, Charlotte?”
It was weird when he called me that. Put me in a different frame of mind, somehow. “Maybe. Nothing I like, anyway.”
He smiled. “I like you well enough.”
It was strange to laugh. “I like you too, Isaiah. Nothing I like about myself, I mean.”
Kip was staring out the window and had nothing to say about that, to my surprise. Isaiah continued. “You have a long way to go, then. What about