Hide(21)

“Hey, are you allowed to use props?” Jaden asks.

The clipboard guy sits up, rubbing his eyes blearily. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Nothing in the rules against it.” The jewelry woman shifts, her pretty heart necklace falling free of her tank top. She slowly puts on all her rings and bracelets, like suiting up with armor. Checks her bandage. It’s seeped a bit, but not too much. “Besides, one blanket is hardly an advantage.”

Mack feels bad now for not remembering what her name is.

“We don’t know that,” Jaden says.

“Then take one, too,” Ava snaps. Her eyes are red, bruised hollows beneath them. She hasn’t slept at all. “Don’t give Mack shit.”

“Speaking of shit.” Jaden nods to Atrius, who’s at the table, eating, beanie pulled low. “Where were you last night?”

Atrius shrugs. “Exploring.”

“That’s cheating!”

Atrius grins. “Sorry, I mean, I got lost. Someone turned off the spotlight.”

“Yeah, fuck you.” Sydney brushes her hair with vicious force. “If you win, I’ll file a formal complaint.”

Atrius’s grin warms something in Mack. He so genuinely doesn’t care. She heads to the table—blanket in her bag—and nibbles, picking her supplies for the day. Atrius’s hands and arms are covered in a fine mist of dried paint.

He notices her gaze. “Leaving my mark on the competition.”

“And if they don’t use this site again?”

“I do it for the sake of doing it.” It sounds rehearsed. Mack is disappointed. She suspects he wants an audience as much as Sydney and beautiful Ava, just in a different way.

“Okay,” she says.

“It’s a maze,” he blurts, spinning a can of spray paint and shoving it into the back pocket of his sagging pants.

“Your art?” Mack wants out of this conversation as soon as the question leaves her mouth, wishes she hadn’t asked.

He frowns, then pauses thoughtfully. “The art is a maze. The maze is art. Hmm.” He wanders away, back into the park.

“The alarm didn’t go off yet!” Sydney shouts after him. Muttering to herself, Sydney grabs the whole aerosol can of sunscreen and disappears into the predawn dark.

Rosiee has her eyes closed and appears to be repeating directions to herself. Mack suspects she’s heading for the same spot she hid in yesterday. Makes sense. Mack is, too. She isn’t in a rush, though, reasonably confident she can find her spot again. She uses the bathroom, then double-checks her bag.

LeGrand walks past Ava. Neither says anything, but she nods. And, to Mack’s surprise, he nods back. He seems confused and tentative, even scared, as he mumbles, “Good luck,” before ducking into the bathroom.

Ava looks half dead. She won’t make it at this rate. Before she can stop herself, Mack walks up to her. “Do you feel safe with me?”

“What?” Ava’s eyebrows draw together. They’re black, like her eyelashes, emphatically framing her dark eyes.

“Could you sleep if I had your back?”

Ava’s face shifts through several subtle emotions. Her smile is weary and wary, but somehow brighter than the fast-approaching dawn. “Yeah, I think I could.”

“Come on.”

Mack leads Ava away from the emptying camp. It’s stupid. She shouldn’t do it. But there are still so many competitors, so what can it hurt? Ava isn’t a miser with kindness. Mack is. Today, though, she can still afford to be generous. Today she will repay Ava with sleep, so they can be even. That’s all. She just wants to be out of Ava’s debt.

After one panic-inducing false turn, Mack finds the right path. They come out of the trees to the midway section.

“Shit!” Ava shouts, grabbing Mack and putting herself between Mack and the threat she sees up ahead. Mack eases out of Ava’s protective grasp and walks forward, tapping the piano player on his plaster head. Interesting that Ava’s first response wasn’t to hide, but to protect Mack from attack. Maybe Mack isn’t the only one who brought more than a duffel bag’s worth of trauma with her into the park.

“Charming,” Ava mutters. She follows Mack to the ducky building. This is good, though. With Ava here, Mack doesn’t have time to think about yarn and baths and sisters. Mack helps boost Ava, then climbs up after. The depression is big enough for them both, but only just.

As the sky changes, they settle in, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Mack puts her backpack beneath Ava’s head.

“Fair warning,” Mack says. “I will wake you if you snore, and I will also piss my pants if I have to.”

“I’ll do the same. Piss your pants, I mean. Not mine.”

Mack smothers the laugh with her hands. She’s laughed more at Ava’s words the last two days than she has in months, maybe years.

“Did you do that yesterday?” Ava whispers. “You’re hardcore.”

“No, I made it. Peed behind the piano player’s building over there.”

“Can you imagine Rebecca peeing herself to avoid being caught?”

“The one who looks like a toothpaste commercial? Can’t imagine, and don’t want to.”

“Yeah, not really my kink, either.” Ava snorts. “Toothpaste commercial. She really does, doesn’t she.”