This was not how I thought this conversation would go.

Actually, the conversation went exactly how I thought it would. It’s the ending that went off the rails.

The kid and I stand side by side as the Mayor sees himself back out into the rain. I smile and wave as he goes. The kid is stone-faced steel.

The door swings shut, closing us into the storepartment together—alone once again.

I fight the urge to strangle him.

“I told you not to move.”

“No, you didn’t.” He’s pouting.

“Yes. I did. With my eyes. And I know you saw. So,” I turn to face him, “tell me. Why, exactly, did your ass leave that couch?”

He’s avoiding my gaze.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You realize that this is your fault, right? All of it?”

“He’s trying to separate us.”

“No, he has separated us. Successfully. Because of you. Because you could not keep your butt sat and your mouth closed.”

Now he looks like he’s about to cry.

I sigh. “Look. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. Nothing he said was out of line. If you think about it for three seconds, everything he’s doing is logical from the standpoint of a fair and reasonable man running a post-apocalyptic government. Right?”

He sniffs. Or was that a sniffle?

“It’s only a couple days. Everything will be fine.”

“Why can’t we just leave? Why stay?”

“Because we need time to get organized. And, despite your feelings about the Mayor, this is actually a very well-run and organized settlement.”

I reach forward and ruffle his hair. Has he gotten even taller?

“Besides. We can’t get in the habit of running away anytime someone does something we dislike. There’s a difference between bad and evil. This situation may feel bad, but the Mayor isn’t evil.”

His eyelashes flutter. I can’t tell if he’s fighting back tears or just thinking harder than usual. He’d gotten so much more stoic recently that I’d forgotten he really is still a kid.

“Are you really going to make me leave you for three days?”

“Of course not.”

He blinks. Finally, he looks at me. His eyes are red-rimmed, his lashes wet. Not crying. Not yet. But almost.

I bet he’s a beautiful crier.

I pat his cheek, then retreat into the storepartment.

“Now hurry up and start packing. Your uncle will take care of everything.”

The group is restless when we approach. Naturally.

As soon as he sees us, the man I assume is expedition lead is displeased.

Naturally.

“There are two of you.”

“Yes,” I say.

Thankfully, the kid has learned his lesson from his misstep earlier and keeps his trap shut and his eyes on the ground.

“I was told there’d only be one.”

“Oh, that’s my mistake.” I smile at him, wide and innocent. “I didn’t clarify with the Mayor before.”

He eyes me. Looks at my smile. Then my hair. “No ghosts.”

My smile holds. “Oh, I’m not a ghost.” I point to my eyebrows. “This is salon work, certified pre-apocalypse.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. I can already tell—this is a man who doesn’t like trouble. And to him, trouble may as well be my middle name.

“Look, my nephew here can’t use powers. The Mayor said it was no trouble, that the extra hands were what was important. So. Here we are. Just a couple of extra hands.”

I flash him a sad set of jazz hands.

His frown deepens. Then he sighs. “Fine. We’ve already lost enough time. Line up at the back there and we’ll get going.”

The kid and I line up without another word. Disgruntled glares follow us as we go. Once we’re in place, the unit moves out—the slow trudge through a week’s worth of solid, rain-soaked mud finally begun.

“I really didn’t think you’d get him to agree.” It’s the kid, whispering low over my shoulder.

I scoff. “Kid, guys like that are easy. They just need the path of least resistance and a scapegoat and they’ll even hold the door for you.”

He laughs. It’s quiet enough I almost miss it under the sound of the rain.

“You don’t think the Mayor will be upset?”

“Oh, he’ll be absolutely seething. But that’s a problem for three days from now.” I grin. “And by then the expedition leader will be my new best friend and I won’t be a ghost.”