a finger in Pickpocket’s chest.
Pickpocket swipes Jack’s hand from him. “You’re kidding me? And what were we supposed to eat today? It’s nearly suppertime as it is.”
“And with all of the running we do, it isn’t enough,” Pyro interjects, wiping blood off his face with a handkerchief.
“Oh, give me a break. We all know you Scavengers eat more than your share of the plunder while you’re out. If I were in charge, none of you would receive rations!”
“And that’s exactly why you are only second-in-command. If you were leader, we’d all starve,” Pickpocket says through gritted teeth. He backs up and throws his hands out flippantly. “Checks and balances, Jack. You”—he points at the dark-haired boy—“need to be kept in check.”
Jack balls his hand and lifts it, ready to pummel the boy.
“I said enough!” Pete yells. “I’m in charge. I make the rules. If any of you have a problem with them, you can take it up with me.”
Jack lifts his hands as if in surrender and takes a step back. “You’re the boss.”
“Glad we have an understanding,” Pete says, glaring at Jack as if challenging him to argue. Jack says nothing and instead heads toward a gathering of boys congregated by the statue in the city’s center.
Pickpocket rubs his jaw again. “Thanks, Pete. He’s getting worse.”
Pete nods. “We’ve lost three Scavengers in the last month, and the ones that are still running are bringing back less and less each scavenge. He’s not coping with the dwindling supplies very well. I’ll talk to him.”
“You’d better do it sooner than later. The Littles are frightened of him and the Biggers are about to string him up by his bootstraps,” Pyro says.
“I’ll take care of it today. Go have Doc take a look at that,” Pete says, pointing at the gash on Pickpocket’s chin.
Pickpocket rubs his sleeve across the open wound. “Nah, it’s just a paper cut.”
Pete grins and shakes his head. He cups his hands to his mouth and crows like a rooster. His voice reverberates off the metal pipes. Children spill from the buildings and tunnels.
“Listen up, Lost Boys! We have guests,” Pete says.
With wide eyes and gaping mouths, the children stare at me. “It’s a girl,” the younger ones whisper to one another, pointing in my direction.
“Oh, here we go again with the ‘it’s a girl,’ ” Bella says, rolling her eyes. She deploys her wings and flutters to the ground, landing on the dirt floor with a thud. “What do you numskulls think I am?”
“She’s so … so huge,” a young boy says. Approaching with caution, he tips his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not from Everland, are you? Are you one of those pirates?”
“Of course not. Do you think I would bring a Marauder down here?” Pete asks.
The boys train their eyes on me, but say nothing. I fidget and try not to meet their gaze. Mikey shifts closer to me, clearly uncomfortable.
Shaking his head and rubbing his face with one hand, Pete mumbles, “I’m going to have to have Cogs check the air intake. You Littles must be oxygen deprived.”
He marches to the city center, leaving me feeling vulnerable as the group of gawking boys surrounds me. Pete climbs the fountain, stands on the statue, curls in his bottom lip, and blows out a shrill whistle.
“Lost Boys!” he announces. “This is Gwen. You will treat her with the same respect you would treat any other Lost Boy. Is this clear?”
“Or Lost Girl,” Bella adds in a disgruntled tone.
The boys murmur their reply, but their words are muddled.
“I said, is that clear?” Pete shouts.
The boys reply, “Yes, sir!” Some grunt but say nothing.
“Wait!” a teenage boy calls, peering through goggles with thick lenses. His eyes appear larger than they should behind the glass. “She isn’t a Lost Kid unless there’s a vote. That’s what the rules say.” His tone is authoritative, but still has a hint of
Pickpocket swipes Jack’s hand from him. “You’re kidding me? And what were we supposed to eat today? It’s nearly suppertime as it is.”
“And with all of the running we do, it isn’t enough,” Pyro interjects, wiping blood off his face with a handkerchief.
“Oh, give me a break. We all know you Scavengers eat more than your share of the plunder while you’re out. If I were in charge, none of you would receive rations!”
“And that’s exactly why you are only second-in-command. If you were leader, we’d all starve,” Pickpocket says through gritted teeth. He backs up and throws his hands out flippantly. “Checks and balances, Jack. You”—he points at the dark-haired boy—“need to be kept in check.”
Jack balls his hand and lifts it, ready to pummel the boy.
“I said enough!” Pete yells. “I’m in charge. I make the rules. If any of you have a problem with them, you can take it up with me.”
Jack lifts his hands as if in surrender and takes a step back. “You’re the boss.”
“Glad we have an understanding,” Pete says, glaring at Jack as if challenging him to argue. Jack says nothing and instead heads toward a gathering of boys congregated by the statue in the city’s center.
Pickpocket rubs his jaw again. “Thanks, Pete. He’s getting worse.”
Pete nods. “We’ve lost three Scavengers in the last month, and the ones that are still running are bringing back less and less each scavenge. He’s not coping with the dwindling supplies very well. I’ll talk to him.”
“You’d better do it sooner than later. The Littles are frightened of him and the Biggers are about to string him up by his bootstraps,” Pyro says.
“I’ll take care of it today. Go have Doc take a look at that,” Pete says, pointing at the gash on Pickpocket’s chin.
Pickpocket rubs his sleeve across the open wound. “Nah, it’s just a paper cut.”
Pete grins and shakes his head. He cups his hands to his mouth and crows like a rooster. His voice reverberates off the metal pipes. Children spill from the buildings and tunnels.
“Listen up, Lost Boys! We have guests,” Pete says.
With wide eyes and gaping mouths, the children stare at me. “It’s a girl,” the younger ones whisper to one another, pointing in my direction.
“Oh, here we go again with the ‘it’s a girl,’ ” Bella says, rolling her eyes. She deploys her wings and flutters to the ground, landing on the dirt floor with a thud. “What do you numskulls think I am?”
“She’s so … so huge,” a young boy says. Approaching with caution, he tips his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not from Everland, are you? Are you one of those pirates?”
“Of course not. Do you think I would bring a Marauder down here?” Pete asks.
The boys train their eyes on me, but say nothing. I fidget and try not to meet their gaze. Mikey shifts closer to me, clearly uncomfortable.
Shaking his head and rubbing his face with one hand, Pete mumbles, “I’m going to have to have Cogs check the air intake. You Littles must be oxygen deprived.”
He marches to the city center, leaving me feeling vulnerable as the group of gawking boys surrounds me. Pete climbs the fountain, stands on the statue, curls in his bottom lip, and blows out a shrill whistle.
“Lost Boys!” he announces. “This is Gwen. You will treat her with the same respect you would treat any other Lost Boy. Is this clear?”
“Or Lost Girl,” Bella adds in a disgruntled tone.
The boys murmur their reply, but their words are muddled.
“I said, is that clear?” Pete shouts.
The boys reply, “Yes, sir!” Some grunt but say nothing.
“Wait!” a teenage boy calls, peering through goggles with thick lenses. His eyes appear larger than they should behind the glass. “She isn’t a Lost Kid unless there’s a vote. That’s what the rules say.” His tone is authoritative, but still has a hint of
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