In The Afterlight (The Darkest Minds #3)(87)

I let out a sound of frustration. “We have to listen to him. There has to be some kind of order here—structure. Otherwise this whole thing will fall apart.”

Liam stared at me, disbelief fading into a humorless smile. “I get it,” he said as he started walking again. “Believe me, Ruby, I get it.”

By the time we filed back into the Ranch six hours later, he was long gone. Zu was waiting for me in the bunk room, a folded piece of paper clutched in her hands. She watched me as I read it, her eyes making my heart ache.

Finding Liv. Good luck.

I wasn’t upset. I was furious.

“He left without taking any kind of backup—again,” I said, pulling my shirt up over my head and kicking off my fatigues. Zu had already changed into the oversized shirt and boxers she slept in. “Didn’t he?”

She nodded, then held up her notebook with the message, What’s going on? She flipped the page. Why are you acting like idiots?

“Did Chubs tell you to ask me that?”

Zu went back to the first page, underlining the first question twice. What’s going on?

“Just a disagreement,” I assured her, the little lie already gnawing at me. I pulled the worn shirt and sweats on and sat down next to her on my bunk. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

I lay down on my back and she followed suit. I was grateful for the warmth of her next to me, her presence, which always seemed to sweeten sour situations. I’d spent the rest of the simulation feeling like someone was walking over my grave. I still couldn’t shake the feeling.

She picked up her pen and notebook again and wrote, Are you okay?

“I’ve been better,” I admitted.

You keep going to your bad place, she added. I have one, too. I get trapped there if I stay too long.

I shifted so I could wrap an arm around her shoulders and draw her in closer.

You don’t have to go there alone. She paused, as if collecting her thoughts. Do you remember, right before I left East River, I said I had something to tell you, but I didn’t know how?

“I do.” Thinking about that day was like raking nails down over my heart.

It wasn’t really that I didn’t know how—I wanted the words to be better. More beautiful, I guess. But Lee told me it doesn’t matter, sometimes simplest is best. She turned the page, scribbling the words down quickly. The sound of the pen against the paper was strangely soothing. It doesn’t matter what you do, it won’t ever change how we feel about you. I’m proud to be your friend.

I stared at her, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Thank you. I feel the same way about you. The luckiest day of my life was when I met you. You saw how scared I was—”

It wasn’t because you were scared, Zu wrote, then added quickly, maybe a little, but do you know how I knew we could trust you?

I shook my head, fascinated by this insight into her judgment.

When the people following you, looking for you, started to get really close, you were going to run again, not hide behind Betty. It was because you didn’t want them to accidentally find me either, right?

“That’s right.”

She put out her hands as if to say, well, there you go. She picked up her pen again. That meant you were never going to purposefully put us in danger. That you were a good person.

“That’s an awfully big assumption,” I said. “It could have just been me panicking, not thinking at all.”

Zu gave a little shrug. Better to risk helping someone than regret what you could have done. Lee said that.

“That sounds like him,” I said dryly. And that was the exact reason Chubs and I had to be so vigilant about every new kid we crossed paths with.

Are you and Lee fighting about the memory thing?

Ah. So he or one of the others had told her.

“Not exactly.” But then, what were we doing, exactly? Not being friends to each other. Not being whatever it was we had been. “It’s complicated. After what I did to him, it’s been nothing but complicated. And I accept full responsibility, but...”

Zu, as always, zeroed in on the root of the situation. Do you think he doesn’t forgive you?

Reluctantly I reached around her, pulling out the Beach Boys CD case from the dresser drawer. The paper was soft and beginning to tear at the center from how many times I’d opened and read it and refolded it again. I don’t know why I felt like I had to keep rereading it every night, punishing myself with it.

Zu read it, the crease between her dark eyebrows deepening. She clearly recognized his handwriting, but when she looked up, I saw confusion, not understanding.

“What?”

She wrote, What does this prove?

“The fact that he felt like he had to write this is a pretty big clue he thinks I’ll do it again—take his memories, I mean. Send him away.”

Zu calmly folded the note back up and then reached up to smack me in the nose with it with her patented are you serious? look.

Seeing I still wasn’t getting it, she picked up her notebook and pen again. OR—he wrote it because he was scared someone else would make you do it, like his brother. He says he wants to stay. This means he wants to stay, with you, with us, even knowing what happened. Did you even ask him about it? Does he know you took it? She gave me a very different look now. You shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you.