“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Rhys says slowly. “But what happens to it after Cary comes back?”

“He’s not coming back,” Trace says.

“If he hasn’t turned in three days, he’s not turning. And we’re a group,” Rhys says. “We should decide this stuff as a group—”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Trace shrugs. “Whoever thinks I should keep the gun until after this thing with Chen is resolved, raise your hand.”

Three hands go up. Trace, Grace, and Harrison.

“Okay,” Rhys says. He holds his hand out to Trace.

Trace hesitates and then they shake.

I don’t believe in either of them.

Rhys visits Cary every hour. Sometimes I want to go with him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I keep thinking of how we sent Baxter out, him pounding against the door. The only thing that manages to pull me out of my thoughts are Grace and Trace. They argue quietly in the corner. I know it’s about Cary. Grace’s arms are crossed. Trace actually points at her like he’s her father and then she snaps something at him. They stand there for a minute, then he gives her this hug and it’s over, I guess, even if it’s not resolved. Is this how brothers and sisters fight? It’s not the way Lily and I ever fought.

Grace wanders over to me. I ask her what she said to Cary, what Trace said to her, but she won’t tell me and my prying sends her away. She flops down on one of the couches and eventually, I go to sleep. Morning has crept up on us, but it doesn’t matter. When I wake up again, it’s still day. The auditorium is uncomfortably quiet. A quick look around the room tells me Grace, Harrison, and Trace are gone. At my left is Rhys. He’s asleep, one arm splayed out, half on his mat, half off it. His hand rests on the floor, open. I get this urge I can’t resist. I reach over and gently press my index finger into his palm.

He doesn’t wake up. I do it again, let it stay there for the longest time and he’s too asleep to feel it. I stare at his face. His lips are parted slightly. His breathing is rhythmic, even. His shirt has ridden up past his abdomen.

LaVallee’s keys are clipped to his belt loop.

I want to see Cary. I don’t want to ask Rhys’s permission. I watch him for a little longer, gathering courage and when I have it, I sit up and move close to him, as close as I can get to him. My hands are at his jeans, trying to unhook the keys. This is not how I imagined the first time I’d fumble with some guy’s pants would go.