I blinked. “Really? Like, the Saint never said all those things?”

“No!” Kimmalyn said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I came up with them myself! I simply don’t admit it, because I don’t want to appear too wise. It’s unseemly.”

“My entire world is shaken right now, Quirk,” FM said. “I feel like you just told me up is really down, or that Hurl’s breath smells great.”

“Hey,” Hurl said. “See if I get you cake again.”

“This is serious,” I said to the other two. “I get scared.”

I might secretly be a coward.

FM and Kimmalyn blew it off. They reassured me, and talked about how they felt. FM still thought she was a hypocrite for wanting to bring down the DDF while also wanting to fly with it. Kimmalyn had the soul of a smart aleck, but the upbringing of a polite society girl.

I appreciated their kindness, but it occurred to me that the counterculture Disputer and the girl from Bountiful might not be the best people to understand how important it was that I not be afraid. So I let the conversation slide in other directions.

We talked far into the night, and it was… well, it was wonderful. Sincere and friendly. But as the night grew long, I found myself strangely anxious. In some ways, this was one of the best days of my life—but it also reaffirmed what I’d always feared. That the others were bonding without me.

My mind scrambled, even as I grinned at something Kimmalyn said. Was there a way to extend this? How often could the girls claim to be sick? When could I come back?

Eventually, biology began to make its demands, so Quirk and FM went to scout out the restroom. That left me with Hurl, who had been dozing off. I didn’t want to wake her, so I waited by the door.

“I know how you feel,” Hurl suddenly said.

I almost jumped out of my skin. “You’re awake?”

She nodded. She didn’t even seem drowsy, though I swore I’d heard her snoring softly earlier.

“Fear doesn’t make us cowards though, does it?” Hurl asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, walking over to her bed. “I wish I could just smother it.”

Hurl nodded again.

“Thank you,” I said, “for letting the other two plan this night for me. I know spending time with me wouldn’t have been your first choice.”

“I saw what you did for Nedd,” she said. “I watched you fly in after him, right into the depths of that chunk of debris.”

“I couldn’t let him go alone.”

“Yeah.” She hesitated. “My mother told stories of your father, you know. When she saw me back down on the playground, or flinch from a ball during practice. She told me about the pilot who claimed to be brave, but was a coward inside. ‘Don’t you dare sully the name of the Defiant people,’ she’d say to me. ‘Don’t you dare become a Chaser…’ ”