Really, how could they bear being so predictable? But now there were two of them, and more possibly Spunk’s ferals. Not much chance of help around here, not for someone like me. Time to fall back on Jake’s acting lessons, and bull through it. As I neared the step-up to the gangway, the dark-haired one stretched gracefully and draped his leg across both railings. Not too drunk to move at all. I stopped, sighing as if his idea of fun was just massively uncool.

He leaned in, silky hair flowing across his brow. “Really shouldn’t be wandering about at night, y’know. Not without protection.”

“Prote’tion, yeah!” his drunker pal crowed, making a move to shift upright, and failing. “We’ll giv’ ya prote’tion! C’mon up here an’ lemme prote’t ya, nice ’n hard!”

Could I flirt my way out of this? Jake would be proud, but no, I’d never manage it.

I looked Dark Boy in the eye. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m almost home.”

Briefly, he believed me. He nodded, then bent his knee to lift his leg out of my way. Then the subtext in my gaze sank in, the bitterness I couldn’t bury deep enough. For his clean, stylish clothes, his artfully messed hair, but mostly for his unscarred skin, his healthy shine, his unbroken body. And meanwhile, my clothes, my ragged hair, my skinny limbs, everything about me gave me away. Rube was right. Should’ve borrowed from Jenn.

“No.” Dark Boy dropped his leg again. “I don’t think you are.”

He wasn’t much bigger than me, and his friend showed no sign of making it to his feet. Still, like with Ace, a need was rising to scream and flail about. I had stay calm, maybe let resentment override panic.

“Yes, I am. It’s right up there.” I pointed to a high, lighted window a block to the west, and jiggled my pack. “My mom ran out of hooch.”

I knew it was off the instant I said it.

“Hooch?” Dark Boy laughed. “Nice try, den rat. You’ll have to do better than that if you want to pass up here.”

“I don’t need to pass.”

“No?” He lifted the barrier of his leg suggestively. “I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Yes, I . . . uh . . .” Getting flustered now, too fritzed to play word games. Alarms starting up in my head. Something almost remembered. I couldn’t keep my eyes from flicking around like a trapped squirrel.

“She wans sompin’ else.” The drunk struggled again, aiming to slide off the boat onto the dock. “She wans what I got.”

“No! No, I don’t!” I was getting shrill.

“Julian?” A voice from beneath the launch’s canopy. “Everything all right out there?”

Dark Boy tossed his head in irritation. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He glared at me to shut up, like we were in this together.

Really?