“Do you remember, back at the camp—I used to sing to you?” The important part was making our prearranged code sound natural. There was no way to work corny spy-sounding jargon naturally into a conversation. It may be fun to say The eagle crows at midnight. The cheese walks alone, but it was clearly code.

“What did you sing?” Zoey asked, her voice deceptively calm. “I remember you singing, but not the song.”

Zoey had always been a soft soul, and as a child, that had been really difficult for her. Our circumstances didn’t reward a gentle, creative person. It crushed them. I’d had to soothe her a lot, and singing always worked best, even though my actual singing ability wasn’t anything to write home about. Zoey’s mom had died when Zoey was little, and I didn’t remember any of the lullabies she’d sung. I sometimes heard other parents singing them quietly at night, but only snatches, not enough to actually learn whole songs.

I’d asked one of the moms to teach me once, only to have my dad’s hand clamp down on my shoulder. He dragged me away, making excuses, his fingers digging into my skin. I still wasn’t sure why that had made him so angry—with my dad, it was sometimes hard to tell. The littlest things could set him off. I ended up getting extra dish duty for two days until he forgot I was being punished.

I didn’t ask about lullabies again.

We weren’t allowed to watch TV or listen to the radio. But there had been a beat-up old CD player in the kitchen so the cooks could listen as they worked. Most of the CDs were of bands that were popular before I was born. Zoey had especially liked one song by a band called Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs.

“Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,” I sang softly into the phone, hearing Zoey’s voice catch. I kept singing, making my way through the whole verse until Zoey joined me in the hushed howl that began the next verse. I laughed at her aawoooo. If I had sung any other song, Zoey would have hung up and thrown her phone away.

She let out a breath. “You scared me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I glanced at my phone. I didn’t have time to sum everything up before we had to leave for the tribunal. “Look, I’ve got something going on. It’s…a mess. I promise I’ll call you back in a bit and catch you up. Until then, stay safe, okay?”

“Love you, numb nuts.”

Something in my chest loosened. “Love you too, short stack.” I hung up.

Lou stood in the doorway to my room. She didn’t ask about the call, but she tilted her head in question. It was a very wolfy movement, asking without words if I was okay. She’d dressed up too, a cream-colored dress with little foxes on it. Her hair was up, a few pieces falling softly around her face. I think she’d put on a little bit of makeup around her eyes.