“Hey,” he said, glancing around. “I just talked to a girl over there.” He surreptitiously pointed to a pretty blonde teen chatting near the door. “She recognized me too.” He flashed me a self-satisfied grin. “Get this. Her dad has a classic car collection and she’s thinking about taking off. Her parents were in Asia when this happened, and obviously didn’t make it home. Anyway, her house caught fire and that’s why she’s here, but the garage is untouched. Em.” He reached out and moved a piece of hair off my cheek. “She said she’s willing to head west and we could go with her.”

“Charlie, I’m not leaving here with some random girl who barely looks old enough to drive.”

“She’s nineteen. And she’s got a good head on her shoulders. You should hear the way she recites my film lines from memory…”

Charlie droned on, my gaze going to his mouth as it moved but my brain tuning out the sound, his face blurring as my mind wandered. Instead, I pictured Tuck dragging Russell’s body from the burning plane, that vision morphing into him bandaging my wound, and then gently examining Brent’s arm. More memories danced through my mind, one after another… Tuck fighting the man on the buggy in order to save us, returning with food gathered in whatever way was necessary, ministering to Isaac’s injury. I clenched my eyes shut, shame engulfing me, Charlie’s useless drivel continuing on and on and on.

Suddenly my whole body felt hot, like I was boiling inside, and I had this urge to dig my fingers into his eye sockets and watch that fake expression crumble. My balance wobbled and for a moment a weird silence filled my head before reality came crashing back.

Tuck, Tuck, Tuck. Tuck hadn’t cared about the drugs on that plane, certainly hadn’t tried to dash back into the fiery cabin to retrieve them, clearly only concerned with collecting items that would ensure our survival. Tuck had only shown bravery and kindness and heroism on this journey where everyone’s real nature revealed itself. He’d proved his character moment after moment in every high-stress situation imaginable. Charlie was the one who’d been selfish and weak and mostly uninterested in the suffering of others.

What I’d learned was that when push came to shove, Charlie looked out for number one.

I felt like I’d swallowed a razor blade, and it was moving slowly through my system. It was so clear to me now, and I wondered how I’d ever been so blind.

“Charlie,” I said, cutting him off midsentence as his face came back into focus. “Those were your drugs.”

He paused as if going over my words once and then again. “What? What are you accusing me of?”

“Don’t try to lie, Charlie. I already know.”