“You didn’t know that.”

“We are engineered to be perfect,” said Samm. “We’re stronger and smarter and more capable because we were built that way—I don’t see why it’s so bad to recognize it out loud.”

Kira turned away and vaulted the last barrier, splashing down in the thin mud beyond. “And you wonder why all the humans hate you.”

“Wait,” said Samm, following closely behind her. “What’s this really about? You don’t normally get this angry.”

“And you don’t normally make sweeping racist statements about how stupid humans are.”

“Heron does,” said Samm. “You never bite her head off.”

She spun to face him. “So you should be allowed to hate us, too? Is that the problem—I’m being unfair to you?”

“That’s not—” He stopped in midsentence. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’? What ‘ah’?”

“I see what this is about, and I apologize for bringing it up.”

“I told you what this is about. Don’t try to shift the blame anywhere but your own perfectly engineered shoulders.”

“You keep calling the humans ‘us,’” he said softly. “You’re still identifying with them.”

“Of course I’m identifying with them,” she said. “It’s called human empathy. That’s what humans do, we identify with each other—we care about each other. Obviously Heron has no heart whatsoever, but you, I thought, were different. You . . .” Her voice trailed off. How could she explain the betrayal she felt when he talked like that about people she loved? When he continued to not understand how horrible that kind of attitude was? She turned away and started walking.

“I’m sorry,” he said behind her. “But Heron is right. You’re going to have to figure out who you are.”

Kira threw her hands in the air, yelling back without turning around. “So I can ‘choose a side’?” She was crying now, and the tears were hot on her cheeks.

“So you can be happy,” said Samm. “You’re tearing yourself in half.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It took them an hour to find a boat, never talking to each other beyond simple monosyllables: Here. There. No. It was a small motorboat, maybe twelve feet from stem to stern, mounted on a trailer and packed into a backyard practically overflowing with trucks and off-road vehicles. Kira walked around it, splashing in the shallow water, determining how it was attached, how to unhook it, where they might be able to push a truck or break a fence to get the thing out of the yard. There didn’t seem to be a way. She simmered, still angry at Samm, but finally spoke without looking at him.

“I don’t think we can get it out.”

“I agree.” His voice was plain and unemotional, but he was always like that. Was he as mad at her as she was at him? The thought that he might not be made her even angrier than before.