“Nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“No, I don’t think so.” His shades reflected double portraits of my face, all bright with false bravado. Below them, his mouth had tightened. He shoved the joystick forward and sped off east, slamming the redhead against her padded backrest. We heard her screeching at him till they rounded the next corner. Why was she with him, when he treated her like so much river trash? Was Dark Boy better than no boy at all? I had to wonder.

“What the hell was that?” Breakers demanded.

“Rich kid I ran into on a pick. He decided not to rape me.”

Only part of that made sense to her. “So you warn him about BlackAdder?”

“Like I said, he didn’t.” I spread my palms. “I don’t get it either.”

Breakers chuckled. “All kinds of gratitude in this world.”

We moved on faster after that. Up front, Rivera was flagging, and I was shaky at my oars, my palms and thumbs already red and tender. At East 19th, we shifted east to where the water was deep and the tide ran strong toward the sea. Gathering the boats, we hauled in the pallet, untied the tow rope, and set the dead girl adrift. The current took her like a friend.

Watching her go, the kayak steadied against our gunwale, Rivera murmured, “Why did she fire on us? We weren’t any threat.”

Breakers said, “We were stealing her stuff.”

There it was: we were thieves as well as murderers. So depressing. When we got back, how many of us would want to tell this story the way it really happened?

The sentries were ranging farther out than usual since Ladysmith’s disaster, so they pegged us by East 16th. A good thing. One of the Zodiac’s pontoons was losing air and the dinghy was taking on water. So was my tow canoe, getting heavier by the stroke. With the sentries to take over surveillance, Breakers could bail. The Zodiac tucked in close to the buildings so that Gracie could pull them along while Jenn paddled and Poppy steered.

Then, of course, the tide crested. We lost our free momentum, and the real work began. My shoulders were screaming, my palms raising huge blisters, but Breakers talked new strength into me and we made it the last hard blocks. As we limped up in front of Unca Joe, most of two dens were ranged along the walkway, cheering and applauding, heads and shoulders dusted by failing light. The Smiths were all making this weird, high whooping sound in the back of their throats. Could have been challenge or welcome, but whatever it was, it bucked us up. We shipped oars and paddles to let ourselves drift while Gracie raised-fisted the gathering, pretending we weren’t all gasping for our last breath.