“Freedom!”

Hunter cuffs him across the head, but he’s grinning too. “Quiet. We’re still too close to that hellhole. Let’s keep going.”

None of us want to move. We want to sit here and breathe in the crisp, free air. I want to stick close to what I know. Maverick and Colton—boys in Hunter’s crew—are laughing about a raunchy joke. Grace is still staring up at the sky like she wants to memorize every star and every cloud and every inch of darkness. I don’t look up. The endless sky and the thousands of lights overwhelm me.

Leah crouches down next to me, and the way she smiles at me aches. “We can go anywhere from here, if we stick together,” she says. “If we keep going, we never have to worry about social services or being separated.”

“We’d still have to eat and find a place to sleep.”

She shakes her head. “I thought about it. All we have to do is cross the state lines. Find another city to live in. Be more careful than we were before, and never lose sight of each other.”

“Live on the streets again?”

“Not for long. I’ll find a job. I’ll provide for us.”

I have no clue what that would look like. After our granddad died and we had nowhere to go, we’d hole up in empty buildings and dream together. Of a small apartment with a dozen cats. I could do administrative work and Leah could find a waitressing job, and at the end of the day, it would be the two of us together, and we’d be happy.

I don’t think anyone will hire two girls who set fire to a building with people in it.

I don’t know what the world holds.

But I reach for Leah’s hand, and we cling to each other, and I don’t tell her how afraid I am. Hope is structured. We have a roof over our head and food to eat every day. Our teacher doesn’t shout at Leah when she can’t keep up with reading, doesn’t shout at me when I don’t speak up in class. It may be cruel, but the world is cruel too.

We sit until Hunter comes to fetch us. He sees us holding hands and smiles at Leah. “You’re good to her,” he says.

She frowns a little. “We’re good to each other.”

He smirks. “Of course. We’ll have to keep moving.”

Once he turns his back, I make a disgusted sound, deep in my throat, and sign viciously, “I hate him.”

“Hush, you.” Leah smacks at my hands, but she smiles.

Even in the little while since we sat down here, the sky’s grown darker. It’s well past midnight. Well past any sort of witching hour. All is quiet when we follow the dirt road out of here. Or at least quiet compared to Hope. Another owl hoots in the distance, and I hear rustling off the path, like a rat or a possum.