Why had she been so stupid? Pushing Sophie like that. They were living in a different world now with different rules.

What would the girl do?

Maxie let out her breath.

“Sophie,” she said, “I . . .”

Sophie released the bowstring. The arrow sizzled through the air and swished barely an inch past Maxie’s right arm.

She had missed.

Maxie heard a thud behind her and she spun around.

A grown-up was standing there, a father, the arrow in his chest. He staggered sideways, flapping at the arrow and whining, then he hit the wall and toppled over the balcony. Maxie twisted around to watch him fall. He dropped all the way down to the bottom, turning slowly in the air, and landed with an almighty crash, splintering a table.

The sound was followed by complete silence. All the kids froze where they were, listening hard. What was going on?

Achilleus ran up to Maxie. She hardly recognized him. He was wearing a shiny new silvery-gray suit over a dark blue T-shirt.

“What’s going on?”

“Grown-ups,” Maxie croaked, the words sticking in her dry throat.

31

Small Sam slept deeply. His chest rising and falling.

Rachel was still sitting by his side, stroking his forehead and cooing to him.

“Don’t he look peaceful?” she said.

Nick grunted, went over to a dresser, and pulled out a drawer. He took a pair of handcuffs from it and walked back to the bed. He gently lifted Sam’s left hand and snapped the cuffs tight around it.

“Almost seems a shame,” said Rachel. “He’s a nice kid.”

“Don’t get attached, Rachel, love. Remember how it was with the pigs? You should never have named them. Once you name them they become pets.”

“It’s all right,” said Rachel, pushing a lock of hair off Sam’s face. “I won’t get attached.”

The kids had been called together, and a fighting party had quickly assembled around Achilleus, but they could see no sign of any more grown-ups.

“Maybe there was only one of them,” said Lewis, who was wearing a light blue V-necked cashmere sweater.

“No,” said Freak, pointing. “Look.”

“Oh, my days!”