13

Mara met Tom in the grove later, as they did most mornings. A few blades of grass nodded and the flap of wings sounded from overhead. But he didn’t hand her anything. Just stood and took her in. Hands in his pockets. Mara asked if he had a bar for her. It was the wrong thing to say.

“You know,” said Tom, “I’m not your shopping trip. I want to help you, but I’m putting my job on the line. And it doesn’t seem like you’re taking this very seriously. You’re supposed to be surviving.”

If I were surviving, she thought, I would shove you down right now and run away with your stuff. Also, now that Lenny had forgiven her for destroying the tunic, she didn’t know why Tom would care. She hadn’t figured him as a stickler for the rules.

Tom looked at her, and his eyes flicked down to her chest. Then she understood. It wasn’t the string that bothered him, her act of rebellion. It was the fact that she was walking around without a shirt.

He sat on a log and patted the space beside him. Mara didn’t want to sit. But whatever it was, this power trip, she needed to get through it. She needed Tom on her side, just for one more day. She sat down.

“I was thinking,” he said, “that I haven’t been fair to you. I kept you from relying on yourself. I made you expect help from other people. I’m sorry about that.”

“Please don’t say that,” she said. “I’ve been very grateful.”

“That’s the problem, Mara.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m not talking about food. I’m talking about—”

“About what?”

“I’m grateful to have you on my side. When I’m here, you know. With so many guys.”

She hated pulling that card. But she knew it was something he kept in mind.

Tom’s voice hardened. “Did anything happen? If something happened—”

“No, no. Not like that. It’s just. I guess I connected with you more. It’s been nice to know there’s someone respectful who’s looking out for me. But I’ve probably leaned on you too much. I don’t want to mess things up for you.” Or for me, she thought, now that I have no second chances. “I’ve been glad to have a man here I can trust.”

Tom sighed. He touched his finger to Mara’s chin and turned her toward him. Their faces inches apart. She could smell his breath distinctly, the sour scent of turkey and mustard. She couldn’t decide if it repulsed her or if she wanted to smell it forever, the promise of food so close, so impossibly far away.

She thought Tom might kiss her. She braced herself. But he only stared into her eyes. He looked sad.

“You can trust me, Mara,” he said. “Do you hear me? I’m looking out for you. Even when things get messy. You have to know that.”

“I’m really sorry I asked for more food,” she said. “That was out of line. And you’re right. I shouldn’t be expecting things from you. You’ve already done so much. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”