And still missing in action was how all those words and their real-time objects fit together as a history of events, and what my connection was to any of it. As if I’d walked through my pre-Abel life touching nothing, leaving no trace. A ghost. The invisible girl.

Might explain why I liked books. They had a beginning and a middle, not just an end, and it all tied together somehow. Lot of comfort in that.

But as the real-life Mess doors swung behind me, I knew that between Sam and me, I had the better deal. Starting from scratch wasn’t so bad as long as you could hold on to each day’s revelations and apply them to the next. That’s what a baby does, right? That’s how you build a life.

Out in Main, the evening hustle was in full swing, plus a lot of extra buzz due to the attack on Rivera. More than one dark-shifter—women, mostly—muttering, “Maybe not the best idea, going out the first night after?”

On the other hand: “One bad dude ain’t makin’ me run tail!”

Or: “Just let him try me! He’ll be friggin’ sorry!”

And so on.

Gracie was ready to go hunting. I could’ve stayed in, since I’d brought so much home the night before. But that could be seen as boasting. Or bring an eye on me I didn’t want. So I lined up at the duty counter to get my night’s assignment like usual.

I was only five from the front when I saw Peeto slink away from the Swap Desk with those old boots I’d mentioned clutched in his grimy rat paws. I ducked out of line and pushed after him through the crowd. I caught him at the door and hooked an arm around his shoulders, making it look friendly ’case anyone was watching.

“Yo, Peeto, gotta talk to you, dude.”

“Huh? What?” He knew something was off. I’d never laid a finger on him, never mind let him touch me. He tried to move past, but I body-checked him sideways, pressed his back against the wall. I said I’m not a fighter, but Peeto didn’t scare me. He hugged the boots to his chest, like maybe it was them I was after.

“Who tossed my bunk?”

“Yer what?” He clutched the boots tighter. “When?”

“This morning.” Didn’t want too big a scene, so I shook him only a little. “Who was your friend while you were distracting me?”

“I wasn’t . . . wait, whachu nailin’ me fer?”

“Well, funny thing happened. My grab bag was on my bunk, then you came in yammering, and later my bag was gone.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, like, was I having him on? “You forgot where ya left it?”

“Not a chance!” I shook him again. “Where is it?”

“It’s out in the mudroom!”