“I’m sorry, Davey. I didn’t realize. We shouldn’t have come here.”
“I asked. I need clothes, and there’s no point hiding in the house. Might as well learn to deal with this sooner than later.”
“Are you, uh, will the Army pay for counseling? Not that you’re not doing okay, but maybe it would help?”
“We’re supposed to attend these sessions on fitting back into civilian life. I wasn’t going to go, but maybe it’s not a bad idea.”
“Not a bad idea at all,” she agreed. “Now, let’s find you some clothes.”
They resumed walking. He didn’t look any less tense or less vigilant. They passed a guard, who stared at David with the same cool assessment David used to eye everyone else. If security was trained to watch for people who might crack, David’s demeanor certainly would ring some alarm bells. She wanted to take his hand, to unclench it for him, but it wasn’t her place, and she didn’t want to embarrass him or make it worse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SOPHIE
The second the front door closed behind Julie and David, Sophie dived for her phone. She didn’t trust anything this important to even their most secure message boards, let alone a call or a text. Her message to Gabe the night before had read simply, Coffee. Tomorrow ten a.m. Hugs.
Hugs meant “urgent.” Urgent coffee meant to meet at the anarchist coffee shop; they’d move on from there. She kept her phone muted so her moms wouldn’t hear it, but checked it repeatedly until she fell asleep. He hadn’t responded, but now she saw a message had come an hour before. Hugs. See ya.
She glanced at the time: nine thirty. Great. Yesterday’s clothes back on, and she didn’t have time to spike her hair, so she made do with gelling it straight back into a narrow ponytail. She ran out the door, then realized she’d forgotten to take her pills. Back to the kitchen to slam the meds, but it threw her timing off; her bus sped past the intersection as she sprinted toward the corner.
“Dammit,” she said, slowing to a walk. No sense in rushing now; the next bus would be twenty minutes. She had used the code for “urgent” and she was going to be late to her own damn meeting. She stood in the empty bus shelter and fumbled for her phone to text an apology. She didn’t think her lateness inconvenienced Gabe too much, but she didn’t want him to think she didn’t take things seriously.
A car honked, and the passenger window lowered. “You’re from the meeting, right? The other night?”
She stooped to peer into the open window. It was the kid from a few nights ago. She had guessed he was fifteen, but he must be sixteen at least to be driving. Still a kid. What was his name? She tried to come up with it but drew a blank.
“Dominic,” he said, rescuing her. “And you were Sophie, right?”
“I still am.”
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” The door unlocked.
She hesitated for only a second. “Yeah. I’m late to meet somebody, actually. You heading downtown?”
That was a stupid question, since his car was already pointed in that direction, but he nodded. She slipped into the front seat, squashing her backpack on top of her feet. A zipper dug into her shin and she smoothed it, then buckled herself in. “Thanks. I’m supposed to be at Stomping Grounds in twenty minutes and I missed my bus.”
“No problem. That’s where I was headed, too.”
Sophie didn’t know cars, but this was a pretty luxurious one. The seats were leather, and the interior was roomier than her parents’ electric cars. The dashboard looked like a spaceship’s. She held her head away from the seat back in case her hair stuff stained it. Her clothes felt grubby all of a sudden, and she hoped she didn’t smell.
“Do you live around here?” she asked.
“A couple of neighborhoods north. In the county.” He waved a hand in the direction he’d come from and made a face. “As soon as I graduate I’m moving to the city.”
“Graduate? Are you a senior? I thought you were way younger.” She shouldn’t have said that; people took her for younger all the time because she was short.
He made another face. “Sophomore, but I’m seventeen. I got held back for not having a Pilot.”
“What’s your story?” Sophie asked. “Why no Pilot?”
“Paranoid grandparents,” he said. “They were the ones who suggested I go to the meeting—but don’t get me wrong; I think they’re probably right to be paranoid. I just haven’t decided yet.”
“That’s reasonable. Too bad more parents don’t let their kids decide for themselves.”
“Yeah. That mandatory thing you were talking about at the meeting was pretty crazy, but I feel like things are headed that way. I mean, driving tests are all geared for people who are Piloted now. I barely got my license. They expected me to know what was in front of me and behind me at the same time.”
He didn’t have trouble driving, despite the complaint. The car weaved smoothly in and out of lanes, avoiding a squirrel and then a woman with a baby carriage. A few raindrops spattered the windshield, making her grateful she’d accepted the ride.
“So what did you think?” she asked. “Of the meeting?”
He flashed her a smile. “It was pretty interesting. I mean, there’s so much going on. I don’t know if I’m ready to be an activist— I haven’t made up
