At 1800 hours, the cracks of light in the house began to fade. They slathered their skins with aloe and neemoil. They filled their backpacks, dressed and drank some more, then slung full water algaskins across their bodies.

“They’re going to bump around and be annoying,” Bibi said. “Let’s see if we can strap them tighter.” Her mother fashioned straps for the water bottle and settled hers between her breasts. “That’s better,” she said. “Can hardly feel it there. You want to try?”

Sorrel practised walking; felt the bounce of the bottle on her hip. “No, I think this is fine.” Her small breasts were not capable of nestling anything. Maybe they would never nestle anything.

They left the house at 1900 hours and joined the handful of people still in search of shelters outside the Immersion Zone. It was strange to be with other people. Under a streetlight, Sorrel caught the eyes of a boy about her age hurrying in the opposite direction. He raised his hand at her. She ducked her head and didn’t return his gesture. She knew very little about boys. Sesame had a brother, Bracken, whom she had met a few times, back when they visited each other’s houses. He was close to nineteen then, sombre and mute. He had a deformed arm and had not been hormone-assessed at puberty by the Domins and had escaped violence training. Some of the females in her education cohort had lost their brothers to the Squad and talked about them in chat rooms. They found it hard to believe their brothers could become so dangerous, but Sorrel remembered the males who had killed the old woman and eaten her fruit, so she remained silent. For some boys, violence training didn’t take, and they were sent back to their families, but they were ashamed and often walked out from their homes when the sun was at its height and were never seen again.

Tribal. What did it mean? Was a Tribe something you belonged to, filled with people who had your back? The old-time meaning of the word suggested being from a particular place and connected to it over generations, but if there were Tribals now, surely, they would be from different parts of the island? Did Tribal mean a group of families, connected by blood? Was Tribal the opposite to civilized? It was easy to be drawn to a fable of groups living outside, in harmony with each other. She was going to miss Sesame’s stories, even if they turned out to be myths to make people feel better about their reality or to keep them in line. She hooked her thumbs into her backpack straps and leaned into the weight of all her remaining possessions. Despite the water she had drunk, she was thirsty again and they were still on Buttercup Avenue.

CHAPTER 6 – GUAQUA