“People are staring at us,” Devin whispered.
“Of course they are,” Aria said. “Look at us.” She jutted her chin. “Look at the rest of the room.”
Joe didn’t want to ogle the other customers, but he was curious. Was there something he hadn’t noticed when they came in? He stood up and moved around behind Devin to dig in the backpack Devin carried. From there, he could see the whole room.
People were staring at him. A few turned back to their food when he caught their eye, but many kept on watching. It could be the rifle splayed across his back, though he was hardly the only armed person in the room. More likely, the stares had something to do with his group. At least Boggs and his wanted posters probably hadn’t followed them into New America. Joe studied the human composition of the room. Of course. He’d been so relieved to see folks from many ethnicities and races that he hadn’t taken the time to notice how they were grouped. White people only sat with other white people. Like with like. He re-fastened the backpack, squeezed Devin’s shoulder, and made an obvious show of adjusting the rifle. He may have wanted to be a part of New America, but he wasn’t doing it by subscribing to its prejudices.
“Done showing off?” Aria asked when he sat back down. “Still think white people are your friends?”
“It’s not just white people staring,” Joe said. “And the ones at this table are my friends.”
Devin smiled at him, and Peter gave a vehement nod that may have been more about denying Aria than accepting Joe. Either way, Joe appreciated it. Aria would be a cancer to them if they let her. Joe didn’t intend to let her.
The server came back with their food. Joe’s carnitas tasted like feet, but he didn’t care. The food was warm and wet, and if it had tasted good, he would have missed Sadie and her home-cooking even more.
“Flix, eat your food,” Joe said.
Flix pushed his mashed potatoes around on his plate and didn’t react.
“Hey.” Devin leaned over and whispered something in Flix’s ear.
Flix startled and looked around like he’d just realized where he was. He stopped messing with his food and put a bite in his mouth.
Joe watched him eat until most of the potatoes were gone. He could wait out Flix’s grief and his anger, but he couldn’t let Flix hurt himself. Marcus had died trying to keep Flix safe, Joe was sure of it, and he wasn’t going to let that sacrifice be in vain. The smooth sil-fab shirt Navarro had given Joe after tending to the bullet wound was thin enough that Joe had no trouble feeling the sharp V cut in his elbow when he ran his index finger over it. Victor had sacrificed for Joe, too, and he’d asked Joe to make it matter. Joe meant to keep that promise.
They finished their meal, and the server brought over the chip reader. Devin grabbed it and swiped his wrist over the sensor.
“Tip,” the server said.
Devin squinted up at her.
“You’re supposed to leave me a tip, whitey. Extra money. You think that food brings itself over here?”
“No, ma’am,” Devin said.
The server jerked her head. “You’re a white man, son. You don’t go ’round calling no black girl ma’am. That’s a tip for you. Now, how much money you gonna give me?” Devin told her, and she input it into the chip reader and held it out again for his wrist. “You boys from New America?”
“I’m a girl,” Aria growled.
“Then grow your hair out, son. You have lice or something?”
“Still a girl.”
“So?”
Joe cut in before Aria and the server came to blows. “Thanks for the tip and the food. We’re going to head out now.” He grabbed Aria’s arm and started to stand when a sandy-haired man walked up. The tag on his shirt said he was the manager.
“Georgia, how these fine young boys doing today? You serving ’em good?”
“Yes, sir. They’re just leaving.”
“Fine, fine,” the man said. “Well, a word of advice, since you boys” — “Girl,” Aria growled — “seem to be unfamiliar with New American customs. Now, I don’t care who come in my restaurant. They got money, I’m gonna feed ’em. But not everywhere the same as here. Next time you come in someone store, you best follow the rules. Whites don’t sit with none else. You get me?” He waited there, looking from Devin to Peter and back again.
“You don’t have to worry,” Devin said. “You won’t see us again. Let’s go.” He pulled Flix roughly from the chair and shoved him outside.
Joe followed with Peter and Aria. He caught up to Devin halfway back up the ramp.
Devin’s free hand, the one that wasn’t hauling Flix like a child’s toy, clenched into a fist. “Fucking asshole. Don’t tell me who I am.” He spit toward the restaurant.
Joe hurried and got in front of Devin, cutting his path short. “You’re not like that. None of us believes you are. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Joe. It’s really not.” Devin tilted his head back, exhaled loudly, and relaxed his fist. When he righted his head, he seemed calmer. “You better go deal with Aria.”
“You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Joe wasn’t so sure, but Aria was already fifteen feet away and walking fast. Joe groaned. He wasn’t good at managing personalities. He took long strides until he caught up with her.
Aria snorted. “Glad you dragged us all up here, wise one?”
“Leave any time, Aria.”
“Like you’d let me.”
Joe wouldn’t. No matter how angry Aria may be, she wouldn’t be safe alone. And Joe had a sinking suspicion Aria was right. Whatever they encountered in New America, it wasn’t likely to be friendly. They’d only make it if they pulled together.
“Joe!”
Joe turned and saw Devin waving his arms from a branching road off to the right. Flix was walking on
