When she raised her brows, Jamal added, “It’s the last time you’ll see us. You can’t even say goodbye?”

“Jamal.”

Kaylin knew he was doing it on purpose, but relented. She had some suspicions.

Callis was distracted; his gaze seemed to travel through Mrs. Erickson. And walls. Katie, Esme, and Jamal, however, were present, and at least one of them was tearful. No one pointed this out, because that child was Jamal, who had the ferocious pride of a child his age.

Mrs. Erickson crouched in front of the children. “Thank you. Thank you all so much. You’ve been my older siblings, my best friends, and even my children. I would have been so lonely without you—but you were here and you gave me purpose. Do you know where you have to go?”

Esme nodded. “I wish you could see it,” she said, her eyes shining. “It looks like home—but better.” Kaylin didn’t ask which home; neither did Mrs. Erickson.

“You won’t get lost, will you?”

“No. I don’t think it’s possible. But what about you?”

“I can’t join you yet. I would, if I could.”

“We don’t want you to join us!” Jamal practically shouted. He then turned to Kaylin. “You have to take care of her.”

Kaylin nodded.

“You have to promise to take care of her. She doesn’t always remember to eat, you know. And she’s a terrible sleeper. Sometimes she sleepwalks. And she is way too trusting.”

Kaylin nodded again. Jamal held up one hand and crooked his pinky.

Kaylin lifted hers in response. “I don’t think the neighbor will bother her anymore,” she told the children.

“It’s not about that jerk. It’s about everything else. She’s never lived alone. You heard her—she’ll be lonely without us. She won’t know what to do with herself.”

“Jamal.”

“I won’t leave if you don’t promise.”

“Jamal!” Mrs. Erickson’s voice now contained an edge of either anger or panic. Or both.

He ignored her; his gaze focused entirely on Kaylin. Kaylin looked at the other three, content, as they had been for their existence here, to let Jamal do the talking for them, when the talking was difficult. He hadn’t said they would all stay; she was certain they wouldn’t. But she was also certain that Jamal would, somehow.

“Jamal, after all Corporal Neya has done to allow you all to be free, this is unacceptable,” Mrs. Erickson said, her voice firm. “It’s a very, very poor expression of gratitude.”

“We’re grateful,” Callis whispered.

So was Jamal. But his concern for, his protectiveness of, Mrs. Erickson had always given his presence a strength the others hadn’t achieved. She had no doubt that he would keep his word. If he did, would he wait until Mrs. Erickson passed on? Could they then go wherever it was the dead went together?