“This sucks!” I scream, hurling the hose against the car and then kicking the tires. I want to dump the gas on something and set fire to it. A little of my common sense kicks in and I just kick a hunk of broken sidewalk into the road.

Clay puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Riley. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

I whirl around. “I don’t want to sleep here again! It’s a graveyard! If we get stuck here much longer, we’re going to die just like them!” I flap my arms in the direction of the medical clinic. I’m behaving so badly, but I can’t stop. I pick up a chunk of brick and hurl it through one of the only intact windows in town. The glass explodes with a satisfying smash. I watch the shards rain onto the ground.

Ethan’s grown stiff and pale beside me. I see his lip starting to tremble. I’ve scared him. What have I done?

Clay takes Ethan by the hand. “Well, if our neighbor didn’t know where we are, he sure does now. We’re going back.” He pauses and looks at me. “You done or you need to break something else?”

Exhausted and embarrassed, my shoulders slump. I’m done being mad. Now I feel like cowpie on a boot sole. I lower my head and follow behind, back to the school, trying hard not to cry.

When we get back to the classroom, I can barely pull Ethan into the room when Clay pushes him up. They settle down and start digging into the can of corn, but my stomach churns from the gasoline and the scene at the medical clinic. I curl into the little beanbag, grateful that I can escape for a little while. Sleep comes hard and fast.

When I wake, the room is dark. Ethan breathes evenly beside me. Clay leans against the window ledge, lit by a little square of moonlight. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perches on his nose. I’ve never seen him wear those. To top it off, he’s holding a crinkled book up to the light. It the moonlight he looks entirely transformed from the rugged gunslinger of the day.

“You know how to read?” I ask, sitting up.

He startles and looks up. His hand strays to the glasses and yanks them off, a blush so red rising up his cheeks that I can see it in the dark. He tucks the frames in his breast pocket and slips the book behind his back.

“I was just … looking for something.” He rubs a hand over his neck and gives me a sheepish grin.

He’s embarrassed. God, how adorable. I point to the book. “What is it?”

He blushes again and shrugs.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I really want to learn to read. I’ve tried, but …” I shake my head.