chapter eighteen

Neon is himself again—mostly. He’s not shrieking, not throwing himself into things. But he also knows that I’m angry—and he now seems almost scared of me.

And, yeah, I am annoyed—but Neon has enough to be scared of without me adding to the list!

I think about Jack, and how—when things get bad—he has this amazing (and amazingly annoying!) ability to be his most gung-ho.

Jack might not be here—but I decide to follow his lead anyway. I go super enthusiastic! I sing. I skip. I practically dance down the train tracks, belting out some happy pop song that I haven’t heard since, y’know, before.

Okay, so, the Rifters are still following us? Not ideal! Handing Neon over to a crew of evil, Ŗeżżőcħ-worshiping servants? Don’t love it!

But it’s gonna be okay!

Because I’m gonna make sure it’s okay!

And, most importantly, we do have a destination. And a PLAN. And having a plan, even in a lousy situation, can make you feel OKAY.

Like back at the middle school. After I saw my parents, on the bus, and I couldn’t reach them— I knew I was gonna be alone for a long time.

Those were the bad days. My worst days.

I yanked the flagpole off my homeroom wall and used it like a spear. I got really good at popping lockers off their hinges: just a quick stab, a twist of the wrist, and I was in.

That’s how I survived. . . .

June: “Ooh, off-brand Cheez-Its! Jackpot.”

But soon, I was out of lockers. I had eaten my way through the entire sixth-grade wing of the school. Every locker, every backpack, every desk.

And again, I was hungry.

Of course, I knew where to get food: the cafeteria. But there were zombies in the cafeteria. I spent two full days lying around, scared, until finally I was so ravenous that I came up with a plan.

And that sparked something in me. It forced me to use my brain. I was thinking, planning, training.

I was excited.

Finally, I stormed that cafeteria like freaking Captain Marvel—if Captain Marvel engaged in combat while lunch meat hung from her lips—

June: "I feel good!"

After that, I was over the hump—past the hardest part. . . .

And that’s how I feel now.

I know what to do with Neon, and I know how to get home. “I know everything!” I shout, hopping up onto the train track, walking it like a balance beam.

Neon trots behind me, his tail swishing back and forth. I don’t know if he knows that we’re fulfilling his dream of going back to the other Wretches, or if he’s just happy because I’m happy, or—

“Ahem,” Johnny Steve says, interrupting my train of thought. “I must point out that, technically, you do not know everything! I am not even human, yet I know more about them than you do!” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humans are quite silly. . . . ”

I shoot him a look—then shrug. “Y’know what, I’m not even gonna argue. I refuse to let your human-splaining ways annoy me.”

“Aha!” Johnny Steve says. He elbows Neon gently in the side. “She admits it, at last!”

“Okay, fine. IT’S ON! You think you know humans? Let’s see if you know humans. I’m giving you a human quiz. “Johnny Steve, how many teeth do most humans have?”

“Four,” he says confidently. “Well, four during the daytime. Seventy-seven in the evening.”

“Why do humans have belly buttons?”

“For powering down at night! Now give me a difficult one.”

“What is one thing that all humans can agree on?”

“Ha! Nice try. All humans agree on everything.”

“What’s the most popular human food?”

“Pez. Cherry-flavored Pez.”

Globlet: “June, he’s getting them all right! What’s happening!” June: “HE’S NOT GETTING THEM ALL right!” Johnny Steve: “My knowledge infuriates her. Such a human.”