“Sure.”
“Why are you really starting again? Hunting? You said before that you were done.”
I blinked. “Oh. I thought you were going to ask me something like, ‘Why are you doing something so stupid, Zora?’ or ‘Zora, aren’t you worried about getting caught after being accused of killing a man?’”
“You told me why you were doing it,” Bach said. “To keep people safe, which is the right answer. But I want to know if it’s youractualanswer—is that what you really feel? I’ve spent enough time around humans to know you’re smart enough to give the right answer without really believing it, and I saw you after the last firestarter. You were so sure you’d never do any of this again. What changed?”
“People change their minds.”
“Did you feel guilty?”
“What does it matter?”
He looked back out over the field. Gracie and Tater flew after their Frisbee. “Guilt is still new to me. I’ve been in a human body a long time, and it’s the one thing I can’t get used to. It’s like the harder you try to throw it off, the heavier it becomes.”
I looked sideways at him. “Youfeel guilty?”
He smiled sadly. “If I could release those ghosts, I would. If I could wiggle my way out of Sammy’s control, I would. But I haven’t tried very hard to do those things, either, because it’s my duty to protect Sammy. Not doing it would mean betraying my mother. Hildegard. I know you think we’re all animals, but we have our own sets of emotions and loyalties, and that’s one I don’t know if I can shake.”
I didn’t know what to say. Bach was usually friendly, but rarely so candid. “Moms, right?”
The smile curled up sharper. “Guilt tripping no matter where they are.”
“So that’s anoon the mine?”
Bach squinted into the bright day and the dogs in the field. “Sammy really wants to lie low. If I’m found anywhere near that filming, his reaction isn’t going to be good. You said Artemis is going with you?”
“She never lost that hunting spirit.”
“Good. Watch each other’s backs.” He flipped his sunglasses out to cover his eyes. “And if something really bad happens, let me know. Sam wants to lie low, but he also wants to keep other firestarters out of this town. If you’re in trouble, I can help, and we’ll deal with him later.”
9
Sadie had a habit of falling asleep at nine thirty on the dot, but only if she was at home. If she was already out, she became a creature of the night, hyperaware and strung out, the way she’d once been in high school with the Birdies. She’d been an insomniac then; only since becoming an adult, with the exhaustion of a full workday, did she find the release of sleep. She said sleep was possible at home because the bluffs were so peaceful and quiet. There were no cars driving by, butpeacefulwas an interesting description for howling wind and the constant grinding of the generator.
That night she fell asleep watchingCheerswith me and Grim, with the generator still chugging out back. When she started snoring, Grim looked at his watch, said, “Oh,” andcarefully rearranged her so he could crawl out from beneath her sleeping form. We’d moved the TV out of the kitchen nook and onto a box of Dad’s clothes for nighttime viewing, and Grim had to be careful not to knock it off its perch with his gangly limbs. Instead of leaving Sadie where she was, drooling into a pillow with one leg hanging off the cushion, Grim wedged his arms underneath her and picked her up. He was a brave man, lifting her. Sadie hated it when people tried to pick her up. He carried her back to her room, a snoring princess.
Grim and Sadie had begun going out in high school. Back then Sadie still wore ripped jeans and combat boots, and Grim was a sweet gloomy string bean with too much hair. Sadie was the kind of girl who got the nickname “Grand Slam Sadie” from the irony that she allowed no human to touch her, and from leading the Birdies on an all-night rampage smashing mailboxes with baseball bats. Grim was the kind of boy who would pick a handful of dandelions and hold them under Sadie’s chin to see her smile when her throat glowed yellow. She said he made everything quieter; she rarely went out without him.
I liked Grim a lot, but sometimes the sight of them together was painful. Like someone jabbing me in the chest, over and over. It had taken me a long time to figure out why. I was alone. They weren’t. I didn’t have someone who believed me unconditionally. I didn’t have someone who would pick meover everyone else. I had thought once that that person was Mom, but even she picked the firestarters over me, in the end.
“You staying over again?” I asked when Grim emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later.
He shook his head and smiled a little, then scooped hair out of his eyes. “No, not tonight. I will this weekend, though, if that’s okay.”
“You buy me cereal. Of course it’s okay.”
He picked up his door-stopper fantasy book and his shoes and said, “Don’t forget, we need to get some funnel cakes at the homecoming parade. My treat.”
“You’re the best, Grimmie.”
He bent his head to get out the front door. I waited for his car to start and gravel to crunch beneath the tires before getting up to peer through the blinds. He disappeared down the road that led back to town.
The trailer had two bedrooms stuffed into its back end, one a little larger than the other. The bathroom and a short hallway separated them from the tiny living room and kitchen. I crept back to Sadie’s room to make sure she was really asleep. The room had once been Mom and Dad’s, so her bed was a double with a solid wooden frame. She was a big, softly snoring lump under the crocheted blanket and comforter.
Not even the Chevelle’s engine would wake her. I ducked back into my own room, where the mattress sat on the floor,and dug through my mounds of clothes for my mine-tromping boots and my flashlight. I would have hidden everything better, but Sadie didn’t come in this room since she stopped sleeping there. She now referred to it as “Zora’s dumpster.” It was messy, there was no denying that, but I resented the implication that it smelled bad. I was very careful with my hygiene.
Once in the Chevelle, I started down the winding path into town. Out here, where there were only hills, the coal mine, the junkyard, and the trailer park, the streets remained empty and quiet. On the bluffs there were no ghosts—one of the reasons Mom moved the trailer there—but because they didn’t make sound, even those around the trailer park kept the night peaceful. When I turned down the Goldmine, people came out of nowhere on late-night runs, dog walks, and tourist group outings. The ghosts here watched them pass by, sometimes drifting after a runner or a group for a little while, as if to catch their attention. When I passed, they fixed on me, but they never tried to follow me.
