Cassius lay beneath my bed, sleep-breathing with a faint whistle, but that only reminded me of my other pups and made me feel more alone. I thought of Zeus out there somewhere. I’d been eight when he was born; I’d known him half my life. I’d delivered him myself, the biggest boy in the first litter that Uncle Jim had let me take care of. Zeus’s first act had been to yawn a puppy yawn in my face, his pink tongue curling. I pictured him now, grown and powerful, running through the forest, the other ridgebacks at his side. Were they hungry? Were they cold? Cassius whimpered in his sleep. Did he miss his father as much as I did?

Tears slid down my temples. With everything going on, I was crying over my missing dogs? And yet they seemed the only thing safe to focus on right now. When I thought of Mom and Dad or Uncle Jim and Sue-Anne or what was waiting for Patrick, I wanted to come apart.

Springs creaked on the cot next to me as Alex sat down, her hair twisted up in a threadbare gym towel. Fortunately, the locker rooms were right off the nearest hall, so we had easy access to toilets, sinks, and showers. Chatterjee had set a two-minute limit on hot showers to save energy, and Alex had been one of the first to jump on the offer. She smelled like soap and some girly shampoo, and if I hadn’t felt so embarrassed for crying, I might have been distracted. I wiped at my cheeks, hoping she couldn’t see my face in the darkness.

She lay back and shot a sigh at the ceiling. With Patrick on lookout and the kids around us asleep, it was almost like we were alone. That made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t sure why.

“I thought it was bad when my mom left,” she said. “Every day when school got out, I used to run to the oak tree out front. And I’d sit on that low branch—the one that dips down, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Everyone knew that branch.

“And I’d wait and pray that her little Jeep would turn in to the parking lot. And she’d pull up and flash that huge smile and say, ‘I was just kidding, honey. I’d never leave you behind. I’d never leave you—’” Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth. “I guess I couldn’t believe I’d never see that smile again.”

You can see it anytime you want, I thought. You just have to look in the mirror.

But I didn’t say anything, because that wasn’t the point, and besides, there was something precious and rare in her telling me this. Like it was some jewel she’d uncovered in the sand and handed to me.