WALTER SMITH:
“I’m sorry, Daisy. We’ve gotta stop again.”
It was the fourth time I needed a break, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
Daisy eyed my arm, my blood-stained sleeve. “That bad?”
That bad.
“I just need some shade.”
An abandoned shopping center ahead. We’d rest there.
Was I feeling feverish? No. Of course not. Just a little tired. A little hungry. I tried not to think about my arm. Last time I checked, the edges were raised, red around the skin.
We made it to one of the abandoned stores. Daisy pulled open the door, and I stumbled inside, sank to my knees—right in the middle of aisle three. She stood over me and held out half a saltine cracker. “You can have mine. I’m not hungry.”
“Daisy.” I gave her a look. “I’m not dying. Eat the cracker.”
I rested my head on a shelf, scanned the store. Dust covered everything. Except for one door in the back. Footprints.
My pulse rose to the back of my throat. Hands on my pocketknife.
I pulled myself up, pulled Daisy around a corner. Out of sight.
She whispered, “Why are we hiding?”
I pointedto the door, and she grabbed my hand. Squeezed it. “What do you think is inside?”
“It doesn’t matter. We should stay back here.”
A sleeping bag in the far corner. A thermos.
Someone was camping out here.
I should’ve left, dealt with the exhaustion and pain, but before I could make that decision, someone walked into the store.
A man. Tall. Carrying a baseball bat.
I moved in front of Daisy.
The man stopped at the back door and started to undo the combination lock. Opened the door wide enough that I could see tomato plants. Oranges. The back of my jaw cramped.
I’d do anything for an orange.
Daisy and I exchanged glances.
“You can unlock it. With the paper clips.” She pointed at the lock. “We can get inside when he leaves.”
“It’s a combination lock.” I shook my head. “And he scrambled the code.”
A few seconds later, the man kicked open the door. Set two giant watering jugs on the ground, clicked the lock closed.
When his footsteps faded, Daisy and I stared at each other for a heartbeat. Two. Then we crept over and studied the lock.
There was no way to know. Thousands of number combinations. I tucked my hand in my pocket, held the paperclips between my fingers. Useless.
A single lock. The only thing separating me from food.
“We can’t get in.” I pulled her arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“No, wait!” Daisy held up the lock. “The paint is rubbed off for some of the numbers.”
She grinned. I blinked a few times and grinned back.
It wasn’t too hard to figure out the code after that. We undid the lock, slipped inside.
Tomatoes. Broccoli. Green beans. Potatoes. Oranges. I plucked them off their stems, shoved them in my pockets. I grabbed a tomato and bit into it. Maybe the best tomato I’d ever eaten.
I told Daisy, my mouth still full of tomato, “We’re geniuses. I can’t believe we pulled that off.”
Shelves of kale, chard. An entire wall of tomato plants. Another of green bean vines.
Whoever designed this place had a system. Some plants were ready to be picked. Some needed a few days or weeks to ripen.
Daisy’s voice, laughing: “Walter! Come here! They have strawberries!”
I ran over to her, picked a strawberry, bit down. The flavor exploded in my mouth. I choked back a sob.
Mom’s favorite fruit was strawberries.
Her face. Her smile. How all that died when James left. God. Not now. I told myself I’d cry about it later.
I stuffed another handful of beans into my pockets, glanced over at Daisy.
“We’ve stayed too long. We have to leave before—”
Footsteps from outside. Daisy and eye locked eyes. I placed my finger to my lips and Daisy did the same.
Someone knocked. Called out: “Patch?”
A bolt on the door. I never locked it.
Panic in my hands, my throat. I pulled Daisy behind a shelf.
The door opened, and a girl, maybe my age, walked in. Dirty-blonde hair, braided back. Bandaged left hand. The other holding a pocketknife. A dark duffle bag hung on one of her shoulders.
I studied her face—she looked a little mean—and accidentally met her eyes. I shrank back. She hadn’t noticed me. Not yet.
I held Daisy close.
After thirty agonizing seconds, I shifted my weight and something cracked under my shoes. The girl’s eyes snapped to mine.
“What are you doing here?” She raised her pocketknife, glared at me from between the slats of the shelves.
Daisy whimpered.
I opened my mouth to say something, and as I did, the huge man walked in. He set the full water jugs on the ground.
“What’s wrong?”
“You let people in here?” She lowered her voice. “You promised you’d—”
“Who’s in here?” His gaze followed where she pointed. When he saw me the corner of his eyes pinched. “Hands above your head. Come on, now.”
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I squeezed myself out from the shelves. Tried to raise both arms, but it hurt too much, so I only raised my good arm.
I guess I looked like a threat or something, because the girl lunged at me, clutching her knife, and shoved me to the ground.
My head hit the dirt. Stars. Her knife against my throat.
“How did you get in?” Panic in her eyes. Part of me almost felt bad for her.
I gasped. “The combination lock. We were so hungry. We didn’t know.”
She didn’t move her knife away.
Daisy behind me. Crying.
If I died over a handful of green beans and a strawberry, I’d be so pissed. And Daisy would be all alone.
“We’re leaving.” I shoved her arm away from me. Tried to think of something clever to say, but I could only come up with an angry huff.
She stepped back, lowered her knife, and I pulled myself up to my feet. My arm burned so bad, it was hard to think straight. Daisy stood behind me, tears pooled in her eyes.
I grabbed her hand. Told her, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
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James,
Last night I went to the roof of the theater where you and Fio used to go. You’re right! The stars are amazing to look at. The sunset is pretty there too.
Is there a pretty view where you are? Maybe we’re both looking at the sky at the same time!
I went to one of the government offices today, because I haven’t gotten anything from you in a while. But I haven’t missed any letters from you, so let’s assume that you’ve forgotten about us or something. I’m kidding.
I hope you’re doing okay. Yesterday, Mom pulled out a photo album and flipped through the pages. I got to see you when you were my age. You looked very weird when you were twelve. Good thing Fio met you when you were sixteen, am I right? Ha ha.
On a more serious note, they closed down the library and the parks and the school. It’s weird. I don’t have to go to school anymore. No more math, English, history, biology, nothing! It was cool at first, but now I kind of miss it. Did you miss school when you left?
Stay safe, and we’ll see you in a few months!
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and then Add to home screen.