forty-two
I shook my head at Mace when she opened the door.
She didn’t say a word or ask me anything. I had never been so grateful to anyone in my life. She watched as I dropped my backpack and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over my head. I reached into my pocket so I could hold on to Trip’s KOB. A few seconds later, I felt Mace carefully lifting the blanket and pulling my sneakers off. When she was done, she turned down the lights and closed the shades. It was dark and I couldn’t see, but after a minute, I heard something that sounded an awful lot like a pink water bottle with its very own filter being filled and placed on the nightstand by my side.
I guess I slept through the rest of the day and the whole night. Mace gently shook me the next morning. She gathered our things and got me out to the waiting cab.
I stayed silent the whole train ride back, but Mace babbled at every grown-up who even glanced our way. Yakking on about cousins and waiting aunts. Cheerfully announcing that everyone should probably give us some space, seeing as I most likely had a High-Grade Fever. It worked. People stayed away. I kept my cheek pressed against the cool train window and stared at the passing world. Haven’s phone blinked with about a hundred billion messages on it. I put it away without listening.
Mace forced me to take tiny sips from that pink water bottle. She handed me bits of a protein bar that she assured me was 100% organic with no artificial colors or flavors.
By the time we were home, it was night again, the day lost in travel and weariness. Mace paid for the cab that took us from the train station back to the apartment. “Do you need help getting up the stairs? Do you—do you need anything?”
I just shook my head.
I wanted to thank her for not making me talk.
For not needing to know.
But I just looked at her and hoped she knew what I was trying to say. I think she did. Anyway, I was surprised at how worried and sad her dark eyes looked.