It’s a quiet night. The heat of day still lingers, cut by the breeze. Flames crackle, and the sharp tang of smoke tastes warm on my tongue, even through the mask. The firelight itself bathes faces in shades of gold, lighting up eyes that shine with laughter they keep choked up so they aren’t heard. People move in packs, leaning on friends, faces tucked into shoulders and against thighs. It reminds me of the movies I saw before Mom took us to New Nazareth: groups of friends cuddling up, close enough to inhale one another’s air. Erin lingers by Micah, disgusted by the raw meat but taking great interest in the way his hands work the knife. Sadaf wanders out into the grass and Aisha follows, reaching for her arm.

I stay by the fence, alone. I’ve been pressed up against the Watch all day, and I don’t feel like explaining my growling stomach to anyone, and more than anything, I need some time to myself. I kick off my shoes and spread my hands in the cool grass. The fence smells of wet wood. Weeds creep up the slats and tangle in my fingers. The Milky Way shines in a silver streak above the buildings and clouds.

Revelation 21:1—And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away.

No, the first heaven and the first earth were murdered.

I don’t notice Nick beside me until the rattle of plastic beads makes it past my thoughts. He’s leaning against the fence, toy lizard in hand, staring into the fire.

“You eat yet?” he says when I look up at him, even though he doesn’t look at me.

“I’m fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Of course, my stomach picks that moment to growl. Nick kicks away from the fence and walks into the crowd. A minute later, he returns with two handfuls of sizzling meat, using folded-up printer paper as plates. He tosses one down to me.

“Eat.”

Grudgingly, I do. It’s still fire hot, the same way my hands, stomach, and throat feel, and I balance it on my thighs to keep it from burning my fingers. This is more food than I’ve eaten at once in days, but it’s so warm and smells so good I can’t stop myself. It falls apart in my mouth, taste bursting across my tongue. There’s so much flavor, it makes my jaw ache. It’s barely salted, barely seasoned because we have so little to spare, but it’s the best thing I’ve tasted in forever.

Nick says, “Are you going to be all right tomorrow?”

I shrug, peeling off another piece. When I accidentally touch a part that burns, I stick my finger into my mouth. “I’ll have to be.”

He snorts and pulls down his mask to take a bite.

I stare without an ounce of shame. He has the squishy face of a teenager, like cookie dough that isn’t finished baking, baby fat that puberty hasn’t wiped away just yet. But there’s strength to his jaw, in the hard way his lips are set. Something that says, sure, he’s handsome now, but just you wait, just wait and see what he grows into, it’ll be worth it.