“Oh right, let’s go wandering around the desert,” Scott said sarcastically. “Sure to be plenty of water and food there.”
Cade gritted his teeth, glaring at the endless flats in front of him, as if he could force the answer of where to go next. And then … he saw it.
At first he thought he was imagining things, but then it happened again. A glimmer. Flashing, like a polished piece of glass spinning in the wind.
“There’s something out there,” he said, pointing at the horizon. If he squinted, he could just make out a few specs of black. Objects of some kind, or a trick of the light.
Eric walked to his side and peered into the distance.
“I see it,” he grunted. “Something shining.”
“Whatever it is, it’s miles away,” Scott grumbled.
“Well, we should finish the water and head for that,” Eric said. “It’s metal, maybe glass. That means civilization.”
“Or a sniper scope,” Scott said airily.
“Or a camera, filming us,” Yoshi added.
“Whatever it is, we leave at sunrise tomorrow,” Eric said. “Soon it’ll be too dark to see where we’re going.”
“It’s already night,” Yoshi said. His voice was quiet, but the fear in his voice cut through Cade’s thoughts like a hot knife. “We can leave now.”
Cade turned, confused. Yoshi was staring into the sky.
“We need the light to see where that reflection is coming from,” Cade said. “After sunset, we won’t be able to see it.”
Yoshi didn’t respond, only continued to gaze upward and pointed with a trembling finger.
Cade looked up, and suddenly his knees seemed to buckle as he saw what was there.
A red-orange moon hung in the sky, casting the wan light that Cade had taken for the dim light of a sunset. A second, smaller moon floated in front of it, like a white baseball orbiting a basketball.
“That’s … it’s not—” Cade began, but his mind couldn’t begin to form a reasonable explanation. He had to be dreaming. This was impossible.
“Yoshi…,” Scott said. “I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
CHAPTER
6
3 months earlier
“Turn.”
Cade turned sideways, and the counselor leaned closer with his flashlight. They were doing body checks on all the boys, making sure there were no unusual bruises. If they found injury or markings, it was a sign that they’d been in a fight. That meant punishments—if you didn’t rat out who’d done it.
Cade couldn’t believe that the adults didn’t differentiate between fighting and a beatdown. How was it fair that if some boys jumped Cade, the counselors would punish him for getting beaten up?
Luckily, his strategy of keeping to himself had kept him mostly safe so far. He got bullied in passing, which had never happened at his old school, but here nobody hated him enough to risk being punished for attacking him.
It wasn’t much of an existence, but it would be over eventually.
The counselor grunted with approval before moving on. They were in a barracks-style room, among wall-to-wall bunk beds. The place was cramped and smelled like a locker room, and he’d even seen mice scampering about. And the counselors only seemed to care about getting through the day and keeping the boys in check. Even the therapy sessions often devolved into sports talk.
He knew not all therapeutic schools were like this. In fact, he knew many of them were good places that helped troubled kids learn leadership and discipline.
He just didn’t think this was one of them. Not to mention the fact that he knew he didn’t belong here.
Cade had almost told his parents about the conditions at the school. But he didn’t want to worry them, especially since they couldn’t change anything. He didn’t mention it on his weekly calls, or the few times they visited.
His dad hadn’t visited him for two months. His mom said it was too painful for him, so she came alone the last time. Cade had asked her to stop coming so often. After all, when he had been at the private boarding school, he had seen his parents only a few times a year.
But now Cade couldn’t forget the distrust in his father’s eyes. The suspicion. The doubt. Before, they had been thick as thieves. Now … he didn’t want to think about it.
“Nice chicken legs,” said a kid standing behind Cade. “You got some spaghetti arms too, damn. Yo, guys…”
Cade swiftly tugged his uniform back on, and the kid gave up, his friends uninterested in mocking Cade’s body. He’d always been thin and had already lost weight at the school, in part because Gobbler stole his food several times a week—and what he didn’t steal, Cade rarely finished. The food here tasted terrible.
This was compounded by the exercises they did, seemingly endless push-ups, jumping jacks, and interval courses. Despite the exercise, he felt himself weakening. Drifting through the corridors like a ghost, careful not to be seen, not to be heard. He never spoke at their group therapy sessions—but then, few did.
A shout snapped Cade out of his reverie, and he suddenly saw two kids wrestling further down the room. The counselor had moved on to the rec room to check on the others.
It was typical. Scores were always settled directly after the body checks; it gave the best chance of any bruises to heal before the next inspection.
But this was more than a tussle, he realized. It was two on one, and Cade recognized all of them. Gobbler had pinned someone to the ground, and Jim was helping him, if somewhat reluctantly. And he’d know those glasses anywhere. They had jumped Spex.
“Get him up,” Finch said, striding into view, a few of his cronies following.
Cade could see the reluctance on Jim’s face, and in his body language. It was like he was trying to hold Spex without actually touching him.
“Heard you’ve been talking shit about me, Spex,” Finch said as Gobbler hauled the boy to his feet.
“I didn’t say anything, man. You got the wrong guy.” Spex’s chest heaved with fear, and his words were choked by Gobbler’s thick forearm around his neck.
Finch tapped his chin. “Maybe.”
He stared contemplatively at Spex, then his fist whipped forward, thudding into the boy’s stomach. Spex doubled over as the breath whooshed out of him, followed by a mouthful of vomit.
For the briefest moment, Spex caught Cade’s eye and, despite the pain, he motioned with his head, almost imperceptibly.
“Just in case,” Finch said.
Cade knew what Spex wanted. He wanted Cade to get an adult. But that was taking a side. That was making a choice.
“Jim, get over here,” Finch said.
Jim went to stand beside him, and Cade could see the terror on Jim’s face.
“Hit him,” Finch said.
Cade stayed hidden in the shadow of the doorway. The corridor was so close—the rec room just a few dozen feet away. He could do it. And yet he was frozen by indecision. By fear. He felt sickened with himself.
“He l-looks like he’s had enough,” Jim stuttered.
Finch laughed.
“He’s faking,” he said, lifting Spex’s chin, drool dribbling from the boy’s mouth. Spex was gasping like a beached fish, taking small, shallow breaths.