“Don’t worry, I could tell you were a caker from a mile away,” he says.

I frown. “Caker?” I say, confused.

“Rich kid. Family with money. Cake eater.”

Uh oh. This is the moment that always occurs when I try to make friends. It’s happened to me my whole life. I meet new kids, try to be nice to people, but eventually they find out I belong to one of the few wealthy moon dweller families, and then—

—they hate me.

Except for Cole. He was never one to act like the other kids. But now, my short acquaintance with this guy is over, because he guessed where I come from. We didn’t even get to the stage where we exchange names. He might even turn me in to the Enfo.

“I’m Roan,” he says.

Huh? I just stare at him, waiting for the punch line, waiting for him to spit in my face, maybe even throw stones at me, like kids used to do before Cole put an end to all that.

He stares back, a goofy smirk resting easily on his face. “This is usually the point where you tell me your name, but if you don’t want to…”

“My name?”

“Yeah, you know, like what your mother hollered out when the doc smacked you on the butt after you were born. Or did you want me to guess it?” Before I have a chance to say anything, he continues on, as if we’re not hiding from the Enforcers in a deserted alleyway. “Hmm, I’d say you’re a Violet. No wait, that’s not it. You’re Trudy, right?”

Is this guy serious? “Umm, Tawni.”

“That was my next guess,” he says. “So, Tawni, you coming in, or what?”

I gaze down the alley, expecting to see flashes of red as Enforcer reinforcements charge around the bend. But all I see is gray. Hiding out for a few minutes might not be a bad idea. “I’ve only got fifteen minutes,” I say.

“Just enough time for breakfast,” he says, sticking a hand in his pocket and pulling out a thin metal stick. “Step aside and make sure you’re wearing your safety glasses—this might get messy.”

Not having a clue what he’s talking about, I move away from the door. With a couple of deft and experienced twists and turns of his wrist, he jams the stick—which I now realize is a pick—into the door’s lock. I hear a clatter and a click and then the door opens, creaking slightly.

I just gawk at the door. “That was…” I murmur.

“Awesome, amazing, fan-freaking-tastic? Any of those will do, take your pick. Get it—pick,” he says, holding up the metal wand.

I nod excitedly. “All of those things. It was really impressive. But is it legal?”

“Is whatever you’re doing legal?” he retorts.

Even though I already know I’ll have to break a number of rules along the way, his question still stings. Breaking the law doesn’t come easily to me. “Fair enough,” I say.

“After you,” he says with a sweep of his hand. His second gentlemanly act.

I enter first, instinctively flicking on my flashlight amidst the inky darkness. The beam doesn’t cut very far through the murk, but provides enough light to illuminate a concrete stairway immediately inside.

“Not much to look at, is it?” Roan says, stepping inside and easing the door shut. He reengages the lock by twisting a latch. “But it’s still home.”

“Your family lives here?” I ask incredulously.

“My family sold out to the Enfos a long time ago. I didn’t stay with them after that. They never really liked me anyway.”

I turn and take in Roan’s shadow-darkened face, searching for a lie. There’s none to be found. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m leaving my family, too.”

“Follow me,” Roan says, barely brushing against me as he slips by and begins climbing the steps.

When we get to the top, he reaches back and grasps my hand, tugging me gently into a mostly-bare room off to one side. A thin bed pad and lantern sit on the dusty stone floor against one of the cracked walls. The stones, while mostly gray, have a greenish tint that looks anything but natural. The air smells musty and old and faintly of stale cigarettes. Releasing my hand, he says, “This is it. Home, sweet home.”

I’m shocked. I’ve seen plenty of poverty in the Moon Realm, but this is beyond poverty. Roan has nothing. He should hate me for all that I have, but he doesn’t seem to. Unless he’s been biding his time, acting nice to get me inside, where no one would ever hear me cry out—

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, an eyebrow raised.

Did he just read my mind? “How did you—”

“You look like someone just punched you in the gut. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right not to trust people…like me. But I’m not like that. I just wanted to help you escape, to talk to you. I don’t get the chance to make a lot of friends.”

Oh. I feel rotten for having the thoughts I did. I can understand why Roan would be lonely in this place. It almost feels like a prison, only without bars on the windows and doors.

I want to change the subject. “Hey, can you teach me that lock-picking trick?”

His eyes light up. I’ve hit a happy topic. “Sure! It’ll come in handy on the streets.”

The streets. The phrase sounds so ugly, because…well, because it’s true. The streets are my home now. I shrug it off. “Great,” I say, trying to sound excited.

Grabbing my hand again, he pulls me outside the room and closes the door behind him. Looking so seriously into my eyes that it makes me blink faster, he says, “See, most locks have metal pins inside, the trick is to get them to all line up, as if there’s a key in there…”

For the next twenty minutes—or is it an hour?—he teaches me, showing me sometimes, holding my hand to help me other times, and finally, letting me practice on my own. Just when I think I’ll never get it, the lock clicks open!

“I did it!” I exclaim.

“Well done,” he says. “You’re a good student.”

“You’re a great teacher,” I reply.

There’s an awkward silence when he ducks his head sheepishly, as if not accustomed to being complimented.

“Well, I…” I start to say.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asks suddenly.

“I should really be going…” I say.

“Another time then,” he says, “do you know where you’re going to live?”

“I have to leave subchapter 14,” I say, realizing too late how stupid it is to share my plans with anyone else.

“Leaving? But why?”

“It’s a long story,” I say, not wanting to reveal any more than I have to. “I need to catch a train.”

His dark eyes slowly brighten as he cocks his head to the side into the beam of his flashlight. After a few seconds chewing on his lip, he nods, as if he’s made up his mind about something. “I’ll take you to the station,” he says. “You know, for safety,” he adds.

“You really don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Roan says, shrugging.

Well, if he wants to… “Sounds great.”

Although I’ve lingered far too long at Roan’s place, we make up a lot of time on the way to the train station. Roan takes me on a crazy and convoluted route that I could never repeat on my own. Although we get within eyeshot of Enforcers several times, we never get close enough to feel threatened. By Roan’s side, I feel safer than I thought I could possibly feel away from home. Even though I don’t really know him, I feel like I trust him. If he wanted to hurt me, he already could have. It feels good being with someone, and I’m dreading reaching our destination. It’s weird: I’m actually sort of enjoying running away while I’m with him.

But all good things have to come to an end.

Standing on crumbles of broken glass, we can see the entrance to the train station from our vantage point at the end of a shadowy alley. I’ve missed the beginning portion of the morning rush from our subchapter, but there are still plenty of late arrivers to keep things busy and hectic, which is exactly what I need.

Here goes nothing.

“Thank you, Roan,” I say, meaning it. His kindness was an unexpected—and life-saving—part of my journey to this point.