The girl heaves a few more times, but no sound comes out. Her hands clench into fists. She’s trying to stop crying.

“I’m Paige,” I tell her, keeping my voice even and casual, as if nothing is amiss. “Paige Miller. This here is Trey Dawson.”

Trey says, “Hi.”

The girl takes a deep, ragged breath and says, almost defiantly, “I’m Tanq. With a q.”

Trey and I exchange a look over her head. He gives a slight shrug, as if to say, If she wants to be called Tanq, we’ll call her Tanq.

“Nice to meet you, Tanq,” I say. “We have a dog, too. Her name is Emmaline, but she’s back at the house.”

The girl says nothing.

“Where were you going, Tanq?” Trey asks. “Is there something you need? We can help you get—”

“Just shut up,” Tanq says. “Shut up and let me think.”

We shut up.

She works on catching her breath and stilling herself, while Trey and I listen hard to our surroundings. The birds, at least, think the alien flying thing is gone; they’re chorusing again, just the normal twitters and chirrups of springtime.

Finally, Tanq says, “I need to get my backpack. I dropped it on the street. Do you think it’s safe to look for it?”

Trey nods at me above her head.

“Probably,” I say. “The birds are acting normal again. But we’ll be cautious.” I stand, craning my neck to view the street. It seems empty.

Trey and Tanq gain their feet. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulders. She looks up at me and frowns. “My god,” she says.

“Huh?”

“You’re freakishly tall. Both of you.”

A harsh laugh bursts from my chest before I can stop it.

“What?” she demands. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing’s funny,” I say. It was a laugh of anger, not mirth. “It’s just that we’re in the middle of the apocalypse, and I’m still the tall girl.”

I had a huge growth spurt the summer between fourth and fifth grade. The first day of school that year, I made the mistake of wearing a dark green hoodie. The kids in my class mocked me mercilessly, calling me “The Jolly Green Giant.” I started hunching over to hide my height. Until years later when my stepdad sat me down and told me . . . Actually, I don’t want to think about Paul right now. “Let’s find your backpack,” I say gruffly.

I climb out of the stairwell, Trey and Tanq right behind me.

“Eyes to the sky,” Trey says in warning.

“You a gamer?” Tanq whispers to Trey as we creep toward the spot where Tanq dropped her pack. The girl clutches her left shoulder as we go.

“I was. Your shoulder okay?” Trey says.

“I’m fine,” she snaps.