all y’all to worship at The Altar of Muh Brain, but I liked being that girl. It’s like with Hank, though: that kid makes me insaaane sometimes, but I also feel sort of profoundly dreadful for him, ’cause I don’t think he really knows how to be in this world. He was so cool in school, and—not that this is the world’s great tragedy, granted—he’s kinda trying to figure out how to feel okay without coaches telling him what to do, you know? That’s partly why we were so relieved when Jopek found us. We had this soldier who was going to protect us, and then we’ll get to the Richmond Safe Zone, and . . . and if the CDC did make a cure, everything will get back to the way it was before.”
A thought hit Michael, and it hurt. You wouldn’t have liked me in the world Before, Holly. I don’t even think we would have ever talked to each other. My only friends were 1) people on Xbox LIVE, 2) my mom, and 3) my little brother. And my main hobby was trying to rescue them from their awful lives. I didn’t do such a hot job of winning that game, either, so yeah, you could say I’m still a loser.
She pulled the piece of wood paneling off of the podium and flicked it at Michael. “All right, mister, your turn.”
Just keep it light. Michael began: “I miss being in school, too, definitely. . . .”
But the sentence didn’t finish itself.
Something odd was happening inside him: he thought, with surprise, I—I don’t want to lie anymore. I didn’t come for that. He’d believed, a moment ago, that he’d sneaked to the sanctuary to yes-yes his way out of things, to feel nervous but in control, too, with the “danger” being the dance of what pieces of himself he let her see. But he didn’t want to look in Holly’s eyes and just see his puzzle reflected back to him. Tell her.
“No. I—I don’t miss Before. At all,” Michael said.
Stop, Michael. It’s going well, don’t eff it u—
“I ran away,” Michael said. “On Halloween.”
“What a cliff-hanger! More in a minute after a word from our sponsors—”
“I mean it though.” God, what am I doing?
Holly blinked at him. “Whoa, wait—really? Like, from home?”
Michael nodded, and she responded, “Okay . . . ,” sounding cautious but not unkind. And that settled it.
The more he went on, the realer it became. Holly listened, not interrupting as he told her the CliffsNotes version of Ron: Ron was the one always pushing Patrick into the psych hospital; Ron was the first person Michael had ever hated, a feeling that was enormously mutual, and so big between them that it had to come out somewhere, and one time it came out of Ron’s fists.
“Sorry if this sounds weird,” Holly said gently, “but why doesn’t your mom just leave?”
“Because that’s just what she is, you know? It’s like, when The Game started, Patrick and I called the Zeds ‘Bellows,’ because ‘bellow’ is what they do. And Mom is someone who can’t leave someone who loves her; she’s someone who needs to be rescued. And I just realized, if I was quick enough, I could rescue her. . . . But . . .”
Michael had no idea why he was telling Holly this; it just felt important that he do so.
When he paused, Holly asked, “When what ‘game’ started?”
“I lie to Patrick, about everything. To protect him from this thing one of his idiot doctors called ‘Freaking.’ Bub just disappears into himself. I tell him everything is a Game; that this whole world is all a Game.”
“Wow. So that’s why he feels so safe with you. I can see why the kid loves you so much.”
But Michael suddenly felt sadness and an incredible loneliness. He wasn’t so sure Holly was right about Patrick. In a way, Patrick didn’t really know him.
He guessed Patrick worshipped him.
And there was a difference—huge, he sensed—between worship and love.
“Anyway, on Halloween,” he went on, “Bellows crashed the party, and Mom comes outside and . . .”
“. . . and?”
Michael gulped.
And shut up, Michael, he thought. He’d felt almost sure that there was a point he had to make, something vital in the retelling, something that he was missing . . . but he just felt exposed, now.
Holly tried to meet his eyes, and he felt his blood.
He said, “Ron came out; Mom wouldn’t get in the car. That’s it.”