Lies (Gone #3)(14)

“New graffiti,” Astrid said, looking up at the wall behind the meat stand.

The black and red logo formed a crude “H” and “C.” Human Crew. Zil Sperry’s hate group.

“Yeah, it’s all over town,” Sam said. He knew he shouldn’t keep talking, but he did, anyway. “If I weren’t on a leash I’d go over to Zil’s so-called compound and put an end to this once and for all.”

“What do you mean? Kill him?” Astrid said, playing dumb.

“No, Astrid. Haul his butt to town hall and stick him in a locked room until he decides to grow up.”

“In other words, put him in prison. Because you decide to. And for as long as you decide to keep him there,” Astrid said. “For a guy who never wanted to be in charge, you’re awfully willing to be a dictator.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, fine. Whatever. I don’t want to fight.”

“So, how is the little girl from last night?” Astrid asked, changing the subject.

“Mary was taking care of her.” He hesitated. Looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was within range to overhear. “Mary asked her to sing. She says it’s like the world stops when she sings. Like no one talks, no one moves, the whole preschool just practically froze. Mary says it’s like an angel is singing. Just to you.”

“An angel?” Astrid said skeptically.

“Hey, I thought you believed in angels.”

“I do. I just don’t think this little girl is one.” She sighed. “More like a siren.”

Sam stared blankly at her.

“No,” Astrid said. “Not like a police car siren. Like Odysseus. Ulysses. The sirens. The ones who when they sang no man could resist them?”

“I knew that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did. They did a parody on The Simpsons.”

Astrid sighed. “Why am I with you?”

“Because I’m incredibly attractive?”

“You are mildly attractive, actually,” Astrid teased.

“So, I’m a kind of really hot dictator?”

“I don’t recall saying ‘really hot.’”

Sam smiled. “You didn’t have to. It’s in your eyes.”

They kissed. Not a big passionate kiss, but nice like it was always nice. Someone hooted derisively. Someone else yelled, “Get a room.”

Sam and Astrid ignored all that. They were both aware that they were the “first couple” of the FAYZ, and their relationship was a sign of stability to kids. Like seeing Mom and Dad kissing: kind of gross, but kind of reassuring.

“So what are we going to do with the Siren now?” Astrid asked. “She’s too old to stay with Mary.”

“Orsay took her in,” Sam said. He waited to see whether the mention of Orsay would get a reaction from Astrid. No. Astrid didn’t know what Orsay was up to.

“Excuse me. Sam?”

He turned around to find Francis. Not the best time to be interrupted, not when he was trying to discuss his attractiveness with Astrid.

“What’s up, Francis?”

Francis shrugged. He looked confused and awkward. He stuck out his hand. Sam hesitated; then, feeling slightly ridiculous, he shook Francis’s hand.

“I felt like I had to say thanks,” Francis said.

“Oh. Oh, um…cool.”

“And don’t take it like it’s your fault, okay?” Francis said. “And don’t be mad at me. I tried…”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s my birthday,” Francis explained. “The big One-Five.”

Sam felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. “You’re ready, right? I mean, you’ve read the write-up on what you have to do?”

“I’ve read it,” Francis said. But his voice betrayed him.

Sam grabbed his arm. “No, Francis. No.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Francis said.

“No,” Astrid said firmly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Francis shrugged. Then he grinned shyly. “My mom, she needs me. She and my dad just broke up. And, anyway, I miss her.”

“What do you mean they just broke up?”

“They’ve been thinking about it a long time. But last week my dad just took off. And she’s alone, right, so—”

“Francis, what are you talking about?” Astrid demanded irritably. “We’ve been in the FAYZ for seven months. You don’t know what’s going on with your parents.”

“The Prophetess told me.”

“The what?” Astrid snapped. “Francis, have you been drinking?”

Sam felt frozen, unable to react. He knew instantly what this was about.

“The Prophetess told me,” Francis said. “She saw…she knows and she told me…” He was getting more and more agitated. “Look, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Then stop acting like an idiot,” Sam said, finding his voice at last.

“My mom needs me,” Francis said. “More than you do. I have to go to her.”

“What makes you think the poof takes you to your mother?”

“It’s a door,” Francis said. His eyes clouded over as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at Sam anymore. He was inside his own head, his voice singsong, as if reciting something he’d heard. “A door, a pathway, an escape to bliss. Not a birthday: a rebirthday.”