Page 51 of Stormbreaker

“We’re headed to Sogno,” Domino says, perhaps to cover for her friend’s gaffe. “What about you?”

I’m still wearing my uniform, clearly not dressed for a night out. She looks behind me as though she expects a group of friends to materialize.

“No,” I answer. “I’ve got some homework to do. Have fun.”

Then, before they can invite me to come—not that I should expect them to—I walk off. A moment later, I stop and turn around. “Thanks again for giving me a place to sleep the other night.”

Domino nods. “Sure, anytime. It’s always empty if you need it again.” Her friend smiles in agreement, loosening a tight knot in my chest. It’s a small act of kindness, but I appreciate it more than they know.

Without saying anything else, I turn again and head toward the library. It’s Friday night, so I’m not surprised to find it empty. “Library” is probably too strong a word to represent what this room is. I’ve seen pictures of what libraries used to look like in the Warming Age, when they still printed books. With everything digitized, libraries are now just large screens suspended above tables with chairs at which to work and study, where everyone is expected to speak in a hushed voice.

A security guard sits in a chair near the door, his feet planted wide and his hands clasping the armrests as he nods off. I’m searching for a quiet corner when someone steps out from behind a large screen, nearly knocking me over.

Rook clutches a tablet in his hand. He’s dressed casually in the same jeans and cowboy boots he was wearing when he first arrived. My gaze zeroes in on his feet.

“Where did you get those?” I ask. He looks down and then back up.

“A scavenger,” he says with a shrug.

“You have scavengers in the Wastes?”

It feels like a ridiculous question the moment it’s out of my mouth, and his smirk confirms it.

“Yeah. In fact, they bring us the really good stuff before they head to the city.” He taps his heel on the edge of a table leg as if to demonstrate that fact. It’s hard to argue, since I’ve never seen anything like them before, except in pictures from the past.

“What else do you have?” I ask, reluctantly curious about his world. His brow arches, and he props his hip on the table with his arms folded.

“We have everything,” he answers confidently.

“That’s not what they tell us.”

He huffs out a derisive laugh. “I’m aware.”

“Then why did you come here?”

He narrows his eyes. “Curious today, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” I answer, refusing to take his bait.

“Fine,” he says, running his fingers through his hair, his forearm flexing in a way that is a bit too distracting for my taste. “We don’t have everything. No school like this or your Houses. And survival’s much harder.”

I glance at the tablet clutched in his hand.

“But you can read.”

“I can read.”

“Is that . . . common?”

He hesitates as though he doesn’t want to answer.

“Most people can manage the basics,” he says. “But they’re also focused on other priorities.”

I nod. It’s not completely surprising to hear.

“I finished our biology assignment,” he says, flipping the screen around. He swipes a finger up, showing me the completed essay. I eye him with suspicion and scan it, impressed by his analysis.

“If you don’t have school, where did you learn all this?”