“M-kah,” Summer said. “I’m okay” gone wrong. “M-kay.” She didn’t want her mother punished because of her. Grabbing the towel out of her mother’s hand, she held it there herself, crying out when she nudged the wrong place and lightning-sharp pain careened through her head. She looked at Taured first. He was still in one of his cat-and-mouse moods; she could see it on his face.

If Lorraine argued with him, she’d be taken away from her injured daughter and punished in isolation. That’s how it had been: to disagree was to be sent to solitude for a day or two, “to cool down,” or so he called it. What he meant was: here’s a few days without food, water or light to reconsider your stance. When her mother had come back from her last mission trip and had confronted Taured with what Summer told her, Lorraine was sent to solitude for four days, after which she wouldn’t speak about what had happened to Summer or about her time in solitude. “There’s nothing to say,” she said when Summer asked. “We need to get out of here. And when the time is right, we will.”

Summer had immediately understood that she and her mother couldn’t talk about their plans to leave for fear of being overheard. She stared at him silently, the answer burning in her eyes but held wisely on the tip of her tongue.

Their old Tin Crap had been sold long ago, “for the financial benefit of the compound.” So Lorraine, with no access to a car and being twenty miles from the nearest hospital, took her fifteen-year-old to the infirmary, where Sara’s father had seen to her.

Summer would remember his words exactly, the hard-to-cover excitement on his face as the latex of his examination gloves slapped cheerfully against his skin.

“It’s just a small break.” He asked her to turn her head from side to side, which hurt to do. “I don’t want to cause more harm by trying to reset it.” He leaned back decidedly, though he’d barely examined her. Her fifteen-year-old horror seemed like vanity—she’d have to look like this, a crooked nose for the rest of her life.

Her mother lowered her eyes and said, “Tom, she’s a child, like Sara. She cannot be punished because of my decisions.”

Summer didn’t understand what her mother was talking about. And by the time she would, her mother would be dead.

“Your decisions affect everyone, Lorraine.” And then he dropped two pills onto the metal counter and walked out, his back sending a clear message.