Lies (Gone #3)(23)

“So not telling you something is a major sin, but lying to a couple of hundred people and trashing Orsay at the same time, that’s fine?”

“I don’t think you really want to have this debate with me, Sam,” Astrid warned.

“Yeah, because I’m just a dumb surfer who shouldn’t even be questioning Astrid the Genius.”

“You know what, Sam? We created the council to take pressure off of you. Because you were falling apart.”

Sam just stared at her. Not quite believing she’d said it. And Astrid seemed shocked herself. Shocked at the venom behind her own words.

“I didn’t mean…,” she started lamely, but then couldn’t find her way to explaining just what it was she didn’t mean.

Sam shook his head. “You know, even now, as long as we’ve been together it still surprises me that you can be so ruthless.”

“Ruthless? Me?”

“You will use anyone to get what you want. Say anything to get your way. Why was I ever even in charge?” He stabbed an accusing finger at her. “Because of you! Because you manipulated me into it. Why? So I would protect you and Little Pete. That’s all you cared about.”

“That’s a lie!” she said hotly.

“You know it’s the truth. And now you don’t have to bother manipulating me, you can just give me orders. Embarrass me. Undercut me. But as soon as some problem hits, guess what? It’ll be, oh, please, Sam, save us.”

“Anything I do, I do for everyone’s good,” Astrid said.

“Yeah, so you’re not just a genius now, you’re a saint.”

“You are being irrational,” Astrid said coldly.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m crazy,” Sam snapped. “That’s me, crazy Sam. I’ve been shot, beaten, whipped, and I’m crazy because I don’t like you ordering me around like your servant.”

“You’re really a jerk, you know that?”

“Jerk?” Sam shrilled. “That’s all you’ve got? I was sure you’d have something with more syllables.”

“I have plenty of syllables for you,” Astrid said, “but I’m trying not to use language I shouldn’t.”

She made a show of calming herself down. “Now, listen to me, without interrupting. Okay? You’re a hero. I get that. I believe it. But we’re trying to make the transition to having a normal society. Laws and rights and juries and police. Not one person making all the important decisions and then enforcing his will by shooting killer light beams at anyone who annoys him.”

Sam started to reply, but he didn’t trust himself. Didn’t trust himself not to say something he shouldn’t, something he might not be able to take back.

“I’m getting my stuff,” he said, and bolted for the steps.

“You don’t have to move out,” Astrid called after him.

Sam stopped halfway up the steps. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that the voice of the council telling me where I can go?”

“There’s no point having a town council if you think you don’t have to listen to it,” Astrid said. She was using her patient voice, trying to calm the situation. “Sam, if you ignore us, no one will pay attention.”

“Guess what, Astrid, they’re already ignoring you. The only reason anyone pays any attention to you and the others is because they’re scared of Edilio’s soldiers.” He thumped his chest. “And even more scared of me.”

He stormed up the stairs, grimly pleased with her silence.



Justin got lost once on his way home. He ended up at the school, though, and that was okay, because he knew how to get to his house from there.

Three-oh-one Sherman. He had memorized it a long time ago. He used to know his phone number, too. He had forgotten that. But he had not forgotten 301 Sherman.

His house looked kind of funny when he saw it. The grass was way too tall. And there was a black bag all split open on the sidewalk. Old milk cartons and cans and bottles. That was all supposed to go in recycling. It sure wasn’t supposed to be on the sidewalk. His daddy would go crazy if he ever saw that.

Here’s what Daddy would say: Excuse ME? Can someone KINDLY explain how GARBAGE is on the SIDEwalk? In what universe is THAT okay?

That’s how Daddy talked when he got mad.

Justin walked around the trash and almost tripped over his old tricycle. He’d left it there on the front walk a long time ago. He hadn’t even put it away like he should.

Up the stairs to the door. His door. It didn’t feel like his door, really.

He pushed the lever on the heavy brass doorknob. It was stiff. He almost couldn’t do it. But then it clicked and the door opened.

He pushed it and went inside quickly, feeling guilty, like he was doing something he shouldn’t be.

The hallway was dark, but he was used to that. Everything was dark all the time now. If you wanted light, you had to go out and play in the plaza. Which was where he was supposed to be. Mother Mary would be wondering where he was.

He went into the kitchen. Usually Daddy would be in the kitchen; he was the one who mostly did the cooking. Mommy did the cleaning and laundry, and Daddy did the cooking. Fried chicken. Chili. Casserole. Beef Burgundy, but they called it Beef Burpundy after one time when Justin was eating some and burped really loud.