We went along the water with his boat churning up water behind us. We went down long corridors of what were once streets, but now felt like canals. We could have been in a picture I once saw of Venice in a book, if everything didn’t look so broken down and destroyed. Buildings loomed up on either side of us, their windows looking dark and haunted. Many were broken, and I thought back to the winds and rain just a few nights before. Now, with the sun shining through the cold air, it was hard to believe that night had ever happened. But all around us was evidence that it had.

Peter kept up a steady stream of words about the things he had seen, but I didn’t talk. I sat back in the boat and tried not to see what was around me. I tried to be in the sun, in the reflection of it on the water, away from the hard metal on the bottom of the boat. I leaned back and closed my eyes. The rumbling of my stomach kept me from disappearing inside my head.

Then, through my closed eyes, I could tell that the light had gone away. I opened my eyes, and we were going down an alley between two high buildings. The alley was dark and floating all around us was garbage and shit.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why are we here?”

Peter cut the engine on the boat. He walked toward me, the smile still on his face. It was a wide smile, one I had not noticed before was not just kind and helpful. It was a bit wild. I suddenly felt like such a numptie, thinking this guy was upswing.

“Remember you said you wanted to pay me?” he asked. “To give me something?”

I saw where it was going right away. But all around me was filthy water. He had positioned the boat so that we weren’t even near any fire escapes.

“Stay away from me,” I said. For the tenth time I cursed myself for not having a weapon. I’d even left the stupid tapewrapped ruler in the school room.

“Nothing much, don’t worry,” he said. He was coming closer, and his hand was reaching for his zipper.

Where was I supposed to go?

Part Two Evann—November

PART TWO

EVANN—NOVEMBER

1 It was getting late in the day, but I couldn’t make myself get out of bed. Even as my wristscreen lit up with messages from my dad. Even as my Cavachon, Pollock, stood next to the bed whining those little whines that broke my heart. He wanted to go out so badly, but I couldn’t get up. I looked at his little brown-and-white face, practically a teddy bear’s face, but I still couldn’t get out of bed. Bernice was coming and I couldn’t make myself do anything at all to prepare.