“Well,” he said, “I figured maybe it was a sign, so I followed its path back up the mountain. It was easy because it’d practically made its own road down the hillside. And I’m guessing you already know what it led me to.”

“Your family,” Sarah replied.

“Yep. I saw my dad first, and as soon as he laid eyes on me, he sprinted over—he had to jump over a couple of logs—and pulled me into a huge bear hug. I can remember my back cracking ’cause he squeezed so hard. And I’m pretty sure I squeezed just as hard. Then my mom and Helga were there, all of us boohooing and hugging and laughing. It was crazy, and I’ll never forget it. Especially one thing.”

“What’s that?” Bryson asked.

“My dad. He was crying, eyes all red and puffy. Not once did he say one little thing about me wandering off and getting lost. Not once. I’m sure he figured I’d learned my lesson well enough. Looks like you weren’t the only stupid kid in history, Bryson.”

Sarah wiped at her face, and Michael thought maybe—just maybe—he’d brought a tear to her eye.

“That’s really sweet,” she said. “I can’t believe you’ve never told us that before.”

Michael shrugged even though they probably couldn’t see him well enough to notice. “It’s just…I don’t know. I’ve got lots of memories like that. I mean, what’s real and what’s not? I guess I just have to decide that it happened. I miss…”

His voice croaked, and he felt like a weight was pushing down on his chest. He lay back down on the cot and rolled over, facing away from Sarah. She rubbed his shoulder, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Miraculously, Bryson didn’t say a word. Sarah waited a minute or two, running her hand along his back, then got up and returned to her own cot.

“Good night,” she said from across the room.

“Sleep tight,” Bryson replied.

“Night,” Michael managed to say.

“I love you guys,” Sarah said a moment later, and the night finally took them.

CHAPTER 6

THE HISTORY LESSON

1

The next morning when Michael got up and wandered out of Helga’s office, activity bustled throughout the barracks. The Tangent Alliance was hard at work packing up boxes and hauling them out to the cars.

Michael rubbed his still sleep-blurry eyes and looked around at all the movement.

“What’s going on?” he asked Bryson, who was leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of something hot and steamy.

“Helga says some of us are leaving,” his friend answered. “And some will stay here—use the Coffins to meet up when we need to.”

“Which one are we doing?”