“I’ve been thinking—”

“Always dangerous,” I comment.

“And…” Tawni says, ignoring me, “I think Tristan and Roc were hiding something from us.”

“Like you think one of them might be a woman?”

Tawni cracks up. “Not what I was thinking, but good guess. I’m thinking something more important, like about the meaning of life.”

“You don’t think Tristan being a woman is important?” I say, smiling broadly.

Tawni laughs hard, and then recaps the canteen as if she’s afraid she might spill the few precious drops of liquid we have left.

“I guess that would be pretty important to you.”

“You guess?”

“Okay, yes, that would be important. But I’m talking important on a world scale, not just a personal level.”

I’m giving Tawni a hard time, but I know exactly what she means. I felt it, too. A couple of times I thought Tristan was about to tell me something big, but then he would make an offhanded comment, a joke usually. It’s as if he was waiting for the perfect time to tell me something, but that time never came. Or maybe he was debating whether he could trust me with some secret. I guess if I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either, not after having only just met me. It’s not like I completely trust him yet either. I mean, I want to, especially because the fate of the world seems to be resting precariously on his shoulders. Oh, yeah, and because we held hands for like two hours one night. Which was a big deal for me, who doesn’t know a slide into first base from a base-clearing homerun.

“I think so too,” I say.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Remind me to ask him about it on our next date.”

Tawni laughs again, her face lighting up, the laugh reaching her pale blue eyes. I’m happy I can make her laugh. She deserves some measure of happiness. I know I complain a lot about the hand life has dealt me, but Tawni has it bad, too. At least I know my parents are good people, even if I may never see them again. At least I want to see them again. Tawni, on the other hand, has told me numerous times that seeing her parents in a million years would be too soon.

And then…Cole.

He was the only family she really had left. I mean, maybe he wasn’t tied to her by blood, and certainly no one would mistake him for her brother, what with his dark skin against her white. But he was her family—there is no doubt about that. But now he’s gone. Laid low, like the dust on our shoes. Torn from this world with the same ferocity that his entire family was taken from him by the Enforcers.

I realize I’m gritting my teeth and Tawni has stopped laughing. Nothing like my dark thoughts to bring down the mood.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“Cole.”

“Maybe.”

“Yes.” We haven’t talked about Cole since we tearfully entered the tunnels. I’ve heard Tawni’s muffled sobs both nights, but when I whispered to her they stopped, and she didn’t respond. Maybe she was embarrassed or something. She shouldn’t be. Her tears are only showing what we’re both feeling.

“Yes,” I admit.

“I’m not sure I can cope.” Her face is blank, unreadable. Her laugh lines have disappeared, her cheeks and forehead smooth once more. One of her hands is unconsciously tugging on her single lock of blue hair.

“You will. We both will,” I say, trying to imbue confidence in my shaky voice. It’s a lie. Maybe we will find a way to cope, but I don’t know for certain.

Tawni looks at me, but I can’t tell if she believes the lie. Her words don’t give me any clue either. “It’s weird,” she says.

“What is?”

“Death.”

I just look at her, wondering where she’s going with this, wondering if we’re both headed for a breakdown.

“It’s like, one moment a person you know and love is there, right next to you, and the next they’re gone, taken. Their body is still there, but you know that they’re not. Does that make sense?”

It does. I don’t know how to respond. Her words seem so calm, so rational, so well thought out. Free of emotion. Almost.

“He’s gone forever,” she says, her voice quivering slightly.

“Deep breaths,” I say, stopping to heave in and out a few times, taking my own advice. It’s what my mom used to say when I got upset about something that went wrong at school. She was always a master of controlling her emotions. I never saw her lose her temper, or even cry, not once.

Tawni follows suit, crosses her arms, closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, holds it for a second, and then releases it. When she opens her eyes, the tightness in her lips is gone.

“Thanks,” she says.

I try to remember any other advice from my parents that might apply to our current situation. One thing springs to mind. “My grandmother was my best friend,” I say slowly, trying to get my words right, make them perfect. Tawni is watching me closely, her head leaned back against the wall. “She used to tell me stories, read me books, treat me like an adult and a child at the same time. She was…she was…” My voice catches in my dry throat.

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Tawni says, coming to my rescue.

I force down a swallow, nod my head once. “Yes, she was. Amazing. She died when I was six.”

“I’m sorry,” Tawni says.

“It’s okay. At the time I was a wreck. I wouldn’t leave my room, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t speak. I didn’t even want my dad to teach me how to fight anymore.”

“Your dad was teaching you how to fight when you were six?” Tawni asks, her eyebrows raised, her lips curling slightly.

“He started when I was three,” I admit.

“That explains a lot.”

I laugh, and Tawni does, too. Now she is helping me.

“My dad told me to celebrate my grandmother’s life, not mourn her death. We spent a whole day, just sitting on the floor across from each other, telling stories about her. How she made us laugh, how much we loved her smile, all the happy memories we had of her. When we were finished I was still sad, but it felt different somehow. Like she was still with me—not gone forever.”

“I don’t know if I can handle that,” Tawni says.

“Well, if you ever want to try, just let me know.”

Tawni stares into space for a minute. I just sit there, too, hoping she’ll open up to me.

Finally, she says, “Okay, I’ll try, but I might have to stop.”

“Okay. Do you want me to go first?”

“Please.”

I didn’t know Cole for long, but the time I had with him is precious to me. I close my eyes and try to remember something special about him, but the first thing that pops into my head is a horrifying vision: Rivet wrapping his arms around Cole’s neck, wrenching his skull to the side, snapping his neck; my screams; the blood on my hands as I stab Rivet in the chest; the pain of losing Cole replacing my lust for revenge; Tawni’s shaking, sobbing breakdown later that night. No!

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, hoping I can gain control of my thoughts. This was my idea, after all, and if I can’t control my memories of Cole, how can I expect Tawni to?

Suddenly I remember something good. “Remember when Cole took that punch for me, during the prison riot?”

“I didn’t see it, but I remember how his eye looked afterwards.”

“Like he’d run headfirst into a wall,” I say.

“And he had a hard skull. Imagine what your face would’ve looked like if the guy had punched you.”

“I would’ve been unrecognizable,” I say. “Remember how stubborn I was after? How I said I could take of myself?”

“I’ve seen you take care of yourself. You’re more than capable.”

“Yeah, but in that situation I was in way over my head. That dude was a giant. He might’ve killed me. It was then that I knew Cole was special.” My voice catches, but I plow ahead, trying to mask it. “It’s so weird. I knew him for such a short time, but I would’ve done anything for him. He was just so…”

“Pure?” Tawni suggests, making eye contact.