“It was rhetorical,” I said loudly. “Jesus.”
“Just pointing out the facts.” The bus hit a bump, and he grabbed the seat in front of him like it was going to save him. “Will you switch seats with me?”
“What?”
“Switch seats with me. I may need to puke out the window.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, I get motion sick.” He jumped out of his seat and gestured for me to move. I quickly slid out and glanced around for a different seat. It was a totally full bus. I gingerly sat down next to Edan again, hugging the edge in case vomit came flying in my direction.
He pushed the window open and leaned his forehead against it, the breeze ruffling his dark hair.
“Better?” I asked.
“Yes. Thank you. The air helps.”
I watched him until I felt safe I wasn’t about to see his lunch. “Why’d you join, then? If we’re all going to die and be dismembered.”
“There are worse things to do, I guess.”
I hadn’t given him a real answer either, so I couldn’t exactly complain about the one he’d just offered up.
The bus hit another bump, and Edan took in a sharp breath.
“I hate buses,” he said. He was sitting very still. “And cars. And anything that moves. Well, except the subway. The subway isn’t as bad, for some reason.”
“Plus good opportunities to rob people on a subway,” I said.
“Sometimes I took it just to get places.” His lips twitched like he might smile, but he seemed to think better of it. He focused on a spot outside.
“How is the subway different?”
“I don’t know. The movement is just different, you know?”
“No. I’ve never been on a subway.”
His eyes flicked to me like this was weird. “Where are you from?”
“Dallas.”
He made a face like he didn’t like Dallas.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. It’s just, Texas.”
“What’s wrong with Texas?” I wasn’t sure why I was defending a state I didn’t even like.
“It’s Texas. You know what I mean.”
I did, but I decided it was best to pretend I didn’t. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away. My stomach growled loudly, and I lowered my arms over it, hoping he hadn’t heard.
“Thank god,” Edan said when the bus jerked to a stop in front of the hotel. We filed off, and he shakily walked to a pillar and leaned against it, taking several deep breaths.
I scanned the parking lot for the other buses. One was pulling away, another letting off the last of its passengers. I was hoping to run into Patrick. He would definitely buy me dinner if he realized I had nothing. Even a granola bar would be amazing at this point. It had been over twenty-four hours since I’d eaten, and I’d just spent eight hours running around and climbing ropes and making poor attempts at punching people.
But I didn’t see him. We must have been one of the last buses to arrive. I didn’t even know his room number. I could ask at the front desk, but that seemed too pathetic. I didn’t want to show up at his door begging for food.
One more day. I hadn’t been the worst one today at the gym. I’d seen one boy get knocked over by his own punching bag. Twice. The cheerleader I met at the beginning of the day could barely throw a punch. I had a shot at making it, provided I didn’t screw up too badly tomorrow.
I took one more glance around for Patrick, then sighed in defeat. Edan was still against the pillar, his eyes following me.
“You look lost,” he said.
“I’m fine,” I lied. I trudged into the hotel. I’d just sleep. I only had to make it one more day.
10
In the morning, I regretted not begging Patrick for food. I woke up weak and shaking, my muscles screaming from yesterday’s tryouts, and it took more effort than usual to shower and get dressed.
I’d never gone this long without food. I’d gone almost a full day once, when I was too scared to leave my room after Dad threw one of his tantrums. But I’d snuck into the kitchen that night and eaten several leftover tamales.
Maybe I understood a little what Mom meant when she said things could be worse. Her parents didn’t have much when they immigrated to Texas, and she’d mentioned fishing the last can of beans out of the cabinet at the end of the month more than once. Mom knew what it was like to go hungry, and for her, it was worse than a life of fear with Dad. I didn’t agree, but I could sympathize. A little.
There was a mini convenience store on the first floor of the hotel, and I slowed as I approached it, eyeing the granola bars near the cash register. The cashier was distracted, peering at her phone. If I was quiet, I could dart inside, grab the granola bar, and run back out before she turned around.
I sighed as I noticed the security bars on either side of the entrance. The hotel was bustling with recruits, and I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than fleeing from a convenience store as the alarm blared, granola bar clutched in one hand.
I trudged past the store and outside.
“Hello, Tex,” a voice said as I walked toward the bus. Edan fell into step beside me. The asshole was eating a fucking granola bar.
“I will tackle your ass again if you call me that one more time.” Hunger had made me a bit grouchy.
“Such hostility so early in the morning.” He sounded amused.
I shot him a look I hoped conveyed that I was seriously considering tackling him. His smile faltered, and he disappeared from my side.
I glanced around for my bus. They’d split us up differently this time—I’d found a paper slipped under my door this morning, with the number 8 on it, and a note saying we’d been put into specific groups today.
Bus eight was at the front. I walked to it and lumbered up the steps. It
