not a huggy person. I used to be more physically affectionate—not excessively so, but enough that I didn’t seem standoffish. That was George’s job. I took the hugs that were aimed at her. I haven’t felt like hugging people very often since she died. I still leaned over and put my arm around Maggie’s shoulders, giving her a brief squeeze. The situation seemed to call for it.
“Really?” she whispered.
“Really. Your parents would tear down the world trying to find you if you stayed gone too long. That’s cool. That’s sort of awesome, if you think about it. Becks’s family hates her. Alaric’s family is dead. Mahir’s family is in England, and they probably think he’s insane. And the Masons…” I stopped, the sentence coming to a halt.
“It’s not your fault,” said Maggie, filling the space with the words she assumed I needed to hear. “They were broken a long time before you came to live with them. It’s not your fault you couldn’t fix them.”
“The flat-drop.”
“What?”
“The flat-drop!” I turned to face her, grabbing her shoulders in my excitement. “We sent them a copy of our files when we were on the run from Memphis. Imean, we were going to die, so
someone
needed to have the data, right? Only I told Alaric he could encrypt the fuck out of them if he wanted to, and since the Masons haven’t suddenly started ‘discovering’ lots of corruption inside the CDC, I guess he must have used a pretty damn good encryption.”
“You’re not making any sense,” said Maggie, eyes wide.
“No, see, this is
perfect
! I was worried about how Becks and I were going to get into the hazard zone without getting caught, but the Masons practically invented breaking into hazard zones! They’re pioneers in the field!” I laughed, mainly from relief. “All we have to do is show up on their doorstep and offer to crack those files in exchange for a low-risk route into Florida, and they’ll jump at it. They’ll have to.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll shoot their kneecaps out.” I didn’t realize I meant it until the words were said. The Masons raised me. The Masons gave me the greatest gift anyone has ever given me: George. But they were never really my parents, because they never wanted to be, and if they were what stood between me and what I needed to do, then they needed to be moved.
“Um,” said Maggie. She pulled away from me and stood. “Well, okay, if that’s what works. Really, though. Thank you for understanding.”
“Thank you for being willing to go to Seattle with Mahir,” I replied. “You heading back inside?”
“Yeah. Will you be out here long?”
“Not too long.”
“If you’re not inside by dinner, I’ll send someone to get you.” She walked away, her long brown braid swaying with every step. It was hard to believe that she wasplanning to use “bored heiress” as her cover during the trip up the coast. It was harder to believe that the news media would probably buy it.
“You need to be careful what you say around people, asshole,” said George. I hadn’t felt the van settle when she sat down, because she wasn’t really there. I couldn’t keep myself from feeling vaguely disappointed all the same. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“Sorry.” I turned to face my dead sister, offering her a small smile. “Hi, George. How’re you tonight?”
“Worried,” she said. “You need to be careful. Everyone’s already on edge without you going around talking about shooting people.”
“I haven’t hit anyone since we got here.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not waiting for you to start.” Her expression dared me to argue. I couldn’t, and so I just looked at her instead.
Maybe the fact that George sometimes appears to me is a symptom of the fact that I’m sliding farther and farther down the funhouse chute into insanity, but at moments like these, I can’t force myself to care. When she died—when I shot
“Really?” she whispered.
“Really. Your parents would tear down the world trying to find you if you stayed gone too long. That’s cool. That’s sort of awesome, if you think about it. Becks’s family hates her. Alaric’s family is dead. Mahir’s family is in England, and they probably think he’s insane. And the Masons…” I stopped, the sentence coming to a halt.
“It’s not your fault,” said Maggie, filling the space with the words she assumed I needed to hear. “They were broken a long time before you came to live with them. It’s not your fault you couldn’t fix them.”
“The flat-drop.”
“What?”
“The flat-drop!” I turned to face her, grabbing her shoulders in my excitement. “We sent them a copy of our files when we were on the run from Memphis. Imean, we were going to die, so
someone
needed to have the data, right? Only I told Alaric he could encrypt the fuck out of them if he wanted to, and since the Masons haven’t suddenly started ‘discovering’ lots of corruption inside the CDC, I guess he must have used a pretty damn good encryption.”
“You’re not making any sense,” said Maggie, eyes wide.
“No, see, this is
perfect
! I was worried about how Becks and I were going to get into the hazard zone without getting caught, but the Masons practically invented breaking into hazard zones! They’re pioneers in the field!” I laughed, mainly from relief. “All we have to do is show up on their doorstep and offer to crack those files in exchange for a low-risk route into Florida, and they’ll jump at it. They’ll have to.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll shoot their kneecaps out.” I didn’t realize I meant it until the words were said. The Masons raised me. The Masons gave me the greatest gift anyone has ever given me: George. But they were never really my parents, because they never wanted to be, and if they were what stood between me and what I needed to do, then they needed to be moved.
“Um,” said Maggie. She pulled away from me and stood. “Well, okay, if that’s what works. Really, though. Thank you for understanding.”
“Thank you for being willing to go to Seattle with Mahir,” I replied. “You heading back inside?”
“Yeah. Will you be out here long?”
“Not too long.”
“If you’re not inside by dinner, I’ll send someone to get you.” She walked away, her long brown braid swaying with every step. It was hard to believe that she wasplanning to use “bored heiress” as her cover during the trip up the coast. It was harder to believe that the news media would probably buy it.
“You need to be careful what you say around people, asshole,” said George. I hadn’t felt the van settle when she sat down, because she wasn’t really there. I couldn’t keep myself from feeling vaguely disappointed all the same. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“Sorry.” I turned to face my dead sister, offering her a small smile. “Hi, George. How’re you tonight?”
“Worried,” she said. “You need to be careful. Everyone’s already on edge without you going around talking about shooting people.”
“I haven’t hit anyone since we got here.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not waiting for you to start.” Her expression dared me to argue. I couldn’t, and so I just looked at her instead.
Maybe the fact that George sometimes appears to me is a symptom of the fact that I’m sliding farther and farther down the funhouse chute into insanity, but at moments like these, I can’t force myself to care. When she died—when I shot
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