My mouth hangs open for a moment, and then I start to laugh. “Are you matching us up already, Ella?”

She nods, looking at me mischievously. “There’s John and Sarah, of course. And you and Eight.”

“Wait a second,” I say. “Nothing’s happening with me and Eight.”

“Psshh,” interrupts Ella, continuing on, “and if I grow up to marry Nine, who does that leave for Six?”

“Who’s getting married now?”

Eight’s standing in the doorway behind us, that charming smirk of his lighting up his face. How long has he been standing there? Ella and I exchange a surprised look and start laughing.

“Fine,” says Eight, sidling over to gaze at the tablet. “Don’t tell me.”

Our shoulders brush when he gets close and I don’t move away. I still think about that desperate kiss we shared in New Mexico. It was probably the boldest move of my entire life. Much as I’d like to, we haven’t kissed again since. We’ve talked a lot, sharing stories about our years on the run, comparing the fragments of our memories of Lorien. The time just hasn’t felt right for anything more.

“They’re really taking their time, huh?” Eight says, watching Four and Six move south.

“It’s a long drive,” I reply.

“Good,” he says, grinning. “That should give us some time.”

Eight’s wearing a red and black T-shirt for something called the Chicago Bulls and a pair of blue jeans. He steps back and gestures at his wardrobe, like he’s asking Ella and me for our approval.

“Do I look American enough in this?”

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

I’m feeling nervous as the elevator glides down from the penthouse to the lobby. Eight stands next to me, practically bouncing with excitement.

“We’ve been here for days and still haven’t actually seen the city,” he says. “I’d like to see more of America than military bases and apartments.”

“But what if something happens while we’re away?”

“We’ll be back before they even make it to Arkansas. Nothing’s going to happen on the drive down there. If it does, Ella can use her whole telepathy thing and call us back.”

I think about Nine, who was still sound asleep on the couch when Eight and I crept past him. Ella watched us go, smiling conspiratorially at me, while she curled back up in her chair next to Nine.

“Won’t Nine be mad if he wakes up and we’re not there?”

“What is he? Our babysitter?” Eight cracks merrily, reaching out to shake me gently by the shoulders. “Loosen up. Let’s be tourists for a couple hours.”