Gabi linked her arm through Mathew’s and pulled him toward home. “Gram’s doing okay,” she lied. Seeing Gram again tonight was a lost cause, but at least she’d have a little time to puzzle out her grandmother’s request before she saw her father again. “She told me to tell you she loves you and can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Come on, I’m freezing.”
Mathew frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like Gram. She doesn’t get all mushy like that. Doesn’t this whole thing feel off to you? I would think you’d notice it if anybody would.”
“What do you mean?” Gabi asked, stiffening.
“Well, the Minders, for one thing,” Mathew said, nodding toward the entrance of the Care Center where six of the hulking attendants were stationed.
“Don’t they always have people on security?” Gabi said through chattering teeth. She hauled at Mathew’s arm, but he paid her no heed.
“Not that many, and not Minders. That’s what the security officers are for, and there’s only ever one of those stationed in front.”
“Seriously, Mathew, I’m dying out here. Literally dying.”
“And why is it more important for people to ask Gram a bunch of questions than to let her own family spend time with her? What’s that about?”
Gabi desperately wanted to tell him everything, starting from when she’d slipped behind the tapestry in the temple, but Gram had been so adamant about keeping it secret. She whipped off one of her mittens and placed her hand on the back of Mathew’s neck, which was still damp from his long-distance sprint. He yelped, grabbing her hand and noting its cobalt tinge before cramming it back into her glove. “All right, let’s get out of here. Sorry. I’m just worried about Gram.”
THE HOUSE looked different, like a place where other people lived. The windows were dark, and when Gabi and Mathew walked in, Gabi noticed a strange detergent odor overlying the baking smells that clung to the rugs and upholstery. Everything felt slightly off-kilter.
“Did you…?” Gabi asked as Mathew walked toward the kitchen.
“What?” he said as he disappeared around the corner. No, that was a ridiculous question. Of course Mathew hadn’t cleaned, but someone had been there. Gabi was certain of it. In the kitchen her brother rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out dishes of leftovers and condiments. Gram was a genius at making the most out of whatever came available from the distribution center, creating tasty meals out of the powdered mixes, dried pasta, bruised fruit, and limp root vegetables that came in their allotment every week. From the pots on the south-facing windowsill in her bedroom, Gram harvested what she could of fresh herbs, tiny lettuces, and spinach raised from seeds stashed in her old suitcase. The seeds were heirlooms that Gram let Gabi help her sprout in waxed cups, more valuable than any antique and far more rare. She watered them with the gray water left over from bathing and housework that was collected into small tanks beneath the drains. This water was supposed to be pumped out to the reclamation truck every two weeks so it could be filtered, treated, and redistributed, but Gram always kept some aside for the pots. There had been a standoff over this after Gram moved in, and Sam lost. He owed his mother much more than a few green leaves for the home she created for his children.
Fortunately for their slim supply, Mathew was not interested in composing a square meal. It was more like a triangle, with the three points consisting of leftover spaghetti, reconstituted gravy, and a pink blob of tinned meat that had the texture of chewed gum.
“Gross,” Gabi said, shuddering as he pushed a plate toward her. “I’m not hungry.”
“Hff ttk wffpllz.” Gabi had no trouble understanding him even with his mouth full. He was reminding her that she needed to have something in her stomach to take her pill. Gabi recalled Gram’s suggestion that missing a few more doses might be a good idea, and noticed that her nail beds were faintly rosy. Normally Gabi’s hands took hours to warm up after coming in from the cold. Her chest wall, which usually felt as though it were clamped in a metal vise, ached pleasurably, and the delicate skin behind her ears pulsed. Maybe missing just one more dose wouldn’t be so bad.
“I had something at the hospital and took my pill there.”
Mathew grunted, appeased as he shoved another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. It was truly remarkable how much he could consume. Gabi had no idea how Gram was able to stretch their ration far enough to satisfy his bottomless hunger. With that thought, she noticed an uncomfortable curling sensation in her own stomach, accompanied by a loud gurgle. Gasping, she put a hand on her scooped-out belly. Mathew sputtered, struggling to keep from spewing chewed food all over the kitchen.
“What did you eat at the hospital, a house cat?” he choked out. “Sounds like kitty’s hungry.”
“I think I will have something,” Gabi agreed. Her wasted body had never required much nourishment to keep up its halfhearted attempts at functioning, and she was rarely able to choke down more than a few mouthfuls at a time. Gabi rose from the stool by the counter and opened the refrigerator, where she found a cup of yogurt Gram had made from packets of powdered milk. She dipped a spoon into it and smiled as the cool, creamy stuff coated the inside of her mouth. Food actually tasted good when she was hungry!
“Hey, Gab, did Gram tell you anything about what happened? Before you came out of the temple, Dad told me the alarm startled her and she had a heart attack. That it was probably a faulty wire that made it go off.”
The yogurt curdled on Gabi’s tongue. She hated lying to Mathew, especially when he looked so vulnerable with his hair standing up in spikes and his cheeks flushed from his run.
“Gram couldn’t talk a lot. She had
