it.
With my hands on my hips, I turned to assess everything else that had been dumped here. There were whole tubs of appliances, bedding, and decorations left out like ruined junk. The wastefulness was almost offensive. Then again, people always seemed to unburden themselves of belongings when they were trying to get out from under the weight of memories.
I went through the nearest bag of clothing, my hands stilling for a moment on a pink floral blouse. With a deep breath, I pushed it aside, reaching for the oversize Cleveland Cavaliers shirt beneath it. Digging past the dresses underneath that, I found a pair of jean shorts that seemed like they could work, as long as I used a belt or length of rope. I kicked off my battered heels, shoving them in the bag and taking out the white tennis shoes at the bottom of it. Only a size too big. Not bad.
That done, a second list began to sketch itself from memory. Food, water, containers, blankets…
I set three piles aside, starting with the blankets, then took what pillowcases I could find. They always made useful bags for carrying things when backpacks weren’t available. One small pot for boiling, one small pan for cooking or additional self-defense. Knives, always good. One fork and spoon for each of us. More than that, and they’d clatter inside our bags, keeping us from moving silently. No batteries. One flashlight that seemed to be working for now, even if the beam wasn’t strong. The real coup would have been canned food or toilet paper, but those were truly one-in-a-million finds.
“Did you forget to tell us that you’re taking us camping?” Priyanka stared down at me, brows raised. “I’m all for roughing it as long as that entails air-conditioning and a nice view.”
Blood heated my face. I looked away, back at my orderly piles of supplies.
I had only wanted to stop to find new, clean clothes. I didn’t need to grab any of this stuff, especially since we were heading toward Haven. I knew I was tired, but this…this was something else. It was like I’d slipped back into a pair of shoes I’d thought I’d outgrown. The donation bins, the empty street…The familiarity of it had overwhelmed me.
“Sorry,” I muttered, forcing myself onto my feet. “Old habits.”
I felt…Embarrassed wasn’t the right word. The months we had all spent on the run, surviving on stolen vending-machine food and siphoned gasoline, weren’t ones I really cherished.
Every day had been shot through with desperation and hunger. The only small slivers of light I’d been able to cling to were those flashlight-illuminated memories of my friends: Liam telling stories or singing off-key to his endless stream of favorite classic rock songs. Working out the clever little math problems Chubs wrote for me in the notebook we had to share. Wandering through the dark husk of a Walmart with Ruby, finding something I actually wanted to wear. Feeling safe. Feeling hopeful. Feeling loved.
When I thought of them now, it was like seeing sunlight come through a stained-glass window. Each memory had its own color, its own feeling, and together they created something beautiful held together by a dark frame.
Priyanka looked at me again, her gaze different from before. There was no longer any suspicion there, or even that impatient edge she got whenever I talked about my work. For once, she wasn’t taking the measure of me.
If things had been different, I might have called it understanding.
“No, I mean…this is good,” Priyanka said. I resented the kindness in her voice as she crouched down to gather one of the piles into a waiting pillowcase, how it made me feel almost feral for having done this. “You never know, right?”
“Right,” I muttered, abandoning the piles of supplies for the bags of clothing I’d bypassed before. “Whatever.”
Priyanka lingered behind me for a moment, watching. Why did it have to feel like this—like I was some wounded animal being released back into the wild? My head ached with the need to rest it against something, with the pressure building behind my eyes.
This is ridiculous, I thought. You’re fine.
To prove it to myself, I let my mind reach out, searching for the faint voltage of the working phone’s battery. It was like turning out an empty pocket. She must have left it in the car. The only electricity nearby was the streetlamp.
“Here,” Priyanka said, passing me a bundle of cloth. “Hang on to this.”
After a long beat of silence, I took it.
The