From the bottom of his soul, Devin believed him.
ELEVEN
A few days later, Joe listened as swelling violin music carried on the night air and drifted through the open windows of Lil and Navarro’s house. He curved his fingers around Marcus’s side and helped Flix lift his brother off the couch. As Marcus straightened, he inhaled sharply and his face pinched.
“Are you sure about this?” Joe asked. “We’d stay here with you, and —”
“I want to move around. Navi said it would be good for me.” Marcus patted Joe’s shoulder. “Besides, I want to see the town. And I love parties.”
Whoever was playing the violin finished the song with a flourish, and loud clapping followed. It sounded like the whole town had gathered outside. They were celebrating the twentieth anniversary of Reformation Day, something Joe found ironic since the Reformation had taken away almost all the rights of everyone in the town.
Sadie and Peter, both carrying bowls of black beans, pushed past on their way to the front door. When they opened it, one of the chickens wandered in, and Sadie gently nudged it back outside before she and Peter followed it out.
Joe shook his head.
Marcus laughed, and the sound, healthy and strong, was better than the violin music. “Don’t like the chickens?”
“I’d like them on my dinner plate.”
Marcus laughed again, and when he did, Joe caught the slight tightening of Flix’s fingers. Flix was mad at him, Joe knew, for not telling him about the chip and how unlikely it was they’d be granted citizenship in New America. And probably, too, for being unable to get Marcus help more quickly. Not that Flix had told him he was mad. Devin had. Flix had kept his distance whenever possible. No staring. No nervous babbling. No inappropriate touching. Joe didn’t miss any of those things, but he did wish he and Flix could be friends.
He’d explain soon, make Flix understand; once Flix had left Flights of Fantasy, he couldn’t go back. None of them could. Whatever came next, it had to be better than the hell Boggs would inflict on them if he found them.
Flix wouldn’t want to go north, though. He’d see it as futile. And now that Joe had promised Devin they’d leave Purcell, he had set himself up for a big problem with Flix.
God, Joe wasn’t even sure he wanted to leave. He could be happy here, couldn’t he? Lil and Sadie were like family, and he respected Navarro, looked up to him in a way he’d reserved for only a few other people.
He and Devin might be less conspicuous here. The town would learn to accept their relationship, if they gave it enough time.
Joe grimaced. He hated lying to himself.
He was scared. That’s why he didn’t want to go north. Scared of what he’d find. Scared he wasn’t smart enough. Scared he’d lose Devin. Staying here would be choosing the safe option, but he’d never be happy in a place like this. He wanted to know what the wider world was like, and he needed to know what had happened to his father.
Besides, he’d made an enemy of Sanders. Joe wasn’t particularly afraid of the guy, but he didn’t want to cause trouble for Lil and Navarro or put Sadie in the middle of a fight. He had to leave.
“Holy shit,” Flix murmured.
Joe had been staring at the ground as he walked, watching for anything that might trip Marcus. He glanced up now and saw a large bonfire in the middle of the town, right on the highway. As he and the twins drew closer, Joe made out groups of people clustered around the fire, watching as men threw debris on the burning pile.
He recognized the violinist, standing off to the left, as Mrs. Fonta, the woman who’d gotten burned in the sun and called him plastic. Her blisters had healed, and she smiled at the gaggle of kids who danced around her. Clara, the little girl who’d helped them when they’d first arrived, was one of the dancers. She skipped around Mrs. Fonta and, when she saw Joe, wiggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue.
Joe returned the gesture and added an eye roll for good measure.
Clara laughed and resumed her skipping. Her mother stood off to the side, speaking in rapid Spanish to two other women. When Joe caught her eye, she nodded.
Joe and Flix helped Marcus to a spot at the edge of the bonfire’s heat. From here, they could observe and still be out of the way if anyone got rowdy.
One of the Sons, rifle slung over his shoulder, walked past them. He dipped his head toward Joe and kept it down for longer than necessary for a simple greeting.
“Hey, man,” Joe said. “Nice night.”
“Sí, jefe.”
Flix snorted, and the man straightened and walked away.
Joe looked across Marcus to Flix. “What was that about?”
Flix kept his eyes on the fire. “You have a little standoff with the Sons where you cowed that jerk Sanders?”
“Word around town is you’re a badass motherfucker who don’t take no shit off a nobody.” Marcus barely made it to the end of the sentence before collapsing in giggles.
Joe gently shoved him. “You don’t even leave the house. How do you know what the town thinks?”
Flix pointed. “Sadie. Girl knows everything about the town.”
Sadie and Peter were dancing near the edge of the fire. They held hands, and Peter twirled Sadie under and into his arms and back out again. Sadie threw her head back and laughed, then curled tight against Peter’s chest. He kissed her.
Joe scrambled to stand, but Marcus caught his thigh.
“Let them go,” Flix said. “God, Joe. What were you doing when you were fourteen? Same as me, I bet. Peter isn’t crying at night as much. He’s happy. And you’re not Sadie’s daddy.”
True, but... “He’s not a runner. Neither is she. They should get to be innocent as long as —”
Flix
