“You do have pets here, don’t you?” Bree asks Dad, wide-eyed.

“Of course,” he replies.

“Phew,” she says, clearly relieved to know we won’t have to fight to keep Penelope like we did with the Commander in Fort Noix.

Charlie murmurs and opens his eyes. As soon as he sees Bree, he breaks into a huge grin. Bree hugs him tightly and Penelope snuggles in. The three of them stay like that for a long, long time.

“It was touch and go,” the doctor informs me. “His dehydration was so severe he had a seizure.”

I press my hand to my mouth, alarmed at the thought of poor, sweet Charlie fitting.

“Will he be okay?” I ask.

The doctor nods. “He’s had the same fluid solution as you and Bree. He’s on the mend.”

I’m so relieved to know Charlie will be okay. I don’t know what Bree would do without him.

In the next bed along is Ben. His usually pale skin has been badly sunburned, making him a very sore-looking red color. Parts of his skin have been bandaged to stop the blisters from becoming infected.

“Ben,” I say, taking his hand. “This is my dad, Laurence.”

My dad would never shake hands with someone. Instead, he salutes Ben.

“Ben was living on Catskills Mountain, too,” I tell Dad. “He helped me rescue Bree from the slaverunners.”

Despite his sunburn, I can see Ben blush. “Only because Brooke helped save me from Arena One,” he says shyly.

I can see my dad’s eyebrows rise. He’s not usually one for outward emotion, but I can practically see the questions in his eyes asking me how, exactly, we escaped from an arena. I’m almost excited at the prospect of telling him that we didn’t just escape, but that I killed three of their most prized fighters and then killed their leader, all while snake venom swirled in my bloodstream.

“I look forward to getting to know you, Ben,” Dad says.

“You too, sir,” Ben replies, looking as awkward as a boy meeting his prom date’s parents. Then he tips his eyes to me. “You did it, Brooke,” he whispers, squeezing my hand tightly in his. I can see tears glittering in the corners of his soft, blue eyes. “I always believed in you.”

I squeeze his hand back, overcome with emotion.

Next I take my dad over to Ryan’s bed. It’s only now in this clean hospital setting that I realize how disheveled Ryan has become since we left Fort Noix. His hair has grown a little longer, softening his look. Normally, he’d be the sort of clean-shaven, buzz-cut kind of guy my dad would immediately respect. But with his unkempt appearance he looks much more boylike. His arm is in a sling, his dislocated shoulder having been injured further by supporting the weight of Molly and having to carry Jack.