When Mom didn’t toss her keys onto the side table, I knew we weren’t staying. In fact, I kind of got the impression we might never come back. And instead of telling me anything, she said there would be time to get into the whole “robot thing” later. She was in her room now, frantically finding a cab company that took cash since Athleisure would be looking for Matt’s RV. Also probably packing more otherworldly weapons she’d hidden from me for years.

Still sniffly after my fight with Mom, I hefted my suitcase with my robot hand—so weird—and limped out the front door into the afternoon sun, the drone of a weed wacker filling the neighborhood with a normalcy I didn’t feel. Across the lawn, beneath a sky like old jeans, Matt sat in his RV, scowling into nothing.

It was a wonder the vehicle had made it this far. It was a wonder any of us had. I kicked at a stray rock with my ugly running shoe, a strict downgrade from my boots.

Matt jerked at the sound, his thousand-yard stare through the shattered driver’s window settling onto my new hand. “Hey.”

I limped along the walkway toward the gently smoking RV. His door had been sideswiped pretty good, the lock mechanism exposed to the light of day. I wasn’t ready to deal with Matt yet, but I couldn’t leave him sitting there. “Hey.”

He shifted against the sheepskin. “You … feel any different?”

“You mean, now it’s clear I’m not a real person?” If Matt wasn’t using this whole robot thing to rib me, he must really be rattled.

He lifted his shoulders. “If you wanna put it that way.”

I drew close, craning up, my hands tucked into a fresh hoodie. “I still feel like me. If anything, more so.” I was a fricking robot. No amount of running would change that. But I didn’t need to like it.

“That’s … reassuring.”

What was that supposed to mean? “You’re coming with us, right?”

His gaze slid along a sidewalk thick with leaves. “Not sure that’s a good idea.”

My toes curled in my sneakers. Was he trying to get himself killed? “Athleisure might still be out there. He’s seen your RV.”

Matt gave an elaborate shrug.

“Where’re you even gonna go?” I asked.

“Uh, home?”

“We’re a team, Matt. We need to stick together.”

Matt’s eyes bugged out like my words had shaken something loose in him. He tried his door, shouting in frustration as it rattled in place. “Oh, we’re a team now?” He shot from his seat, ducking toward the entry door on the far side, his footsteps crunching through glass.

My guts balled up. We were doing this now. I pushed my robot hand deeper into my hoodie and rounded the bumper into the street.

He banged open the door, hovering at the top of the stairs with a twitching frown, his eyes glinting. “Whenever there’s something I wanna do, we’re team players. But when it’s something you want—you know, oopsie-nuking a bridge while we’re all on it or completely wrecking my sister’s RV, by way of example—it’s your decision and yours alone. Funny how that works.”

I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t the same at all. “I was in a position to do something instead of letting the nuke take out a bridge support. I had to save my mom. Save you.”

“I’m not just talking about the bridge, Ko. You’re like this about absolutely everything. I thought I could put up with it. I hella tried. But you sure don’t make it easy. You go around with your tiny white girl energy like you’re the only one in the whole goddamned world who can make a reasonable decision.”

My cheeks burned. “That’s not true.”

“It’s always about what you think is best for everyone.”

I pinched the inside of my hoodie with my metal hand, tearing at the cotton. “I don’t want to tell you what to do! I really don’t. But I couldn’t let you just run into a firefight with nothing but a fire extinguisher to your name. It was reckless and you could’ve gotten yourself killed. You expect me to sit by and let that happen?”

He crept down to the last step, index finger leveled, his eyes black as wet stone. “Don’t you turn this around on me. I was only trying to help. But you chose to listen to your intrusive thoughts and throw that gun instead of just climbing out and dropping it—and almost died because of it. You really can’t trust anyone other than yourself, can you? What is it, daddy issues? Or did they just fuck up your programming in the factory? So much for artificial intelligence, huh? More like too goddamned stupid to—”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Teeth gritted, I reached up and swung my good hand across his face with a satisfying thwack—all before realizing what I’d done.

He staggered back, his jaw open, blinking rapidly.

“That’s just it, Matt. I didn’t need help. I needed to get that gun safely away from everyone instead of praying that gravity did the job. I needed you to let me take care of it.”

“But you didn’t, did you? It exploded anyway, right near the bridge deck instead of down in the water. And you went over! All that rugged individualism didn’t save anyone. You could’ve died.” He waved broadly, the cut on his cheek weeping red. “Let me ask you something, Ko. Why do you even want me around if, deep down, you just need to do everything yourself? Oh, wait, I think I figured it out! It’s so there’s someone, anyone, to blame when one of your dazzling ideas goes pear-shaped—which it always fucking does. Must be ol’ gay Matt holding you back, keeping you from reaching your true potential.”

I leaned in, eyes stinging and throat tight. “How about a little dose of reality? Everything’s not about you, Matt. Sometimes I have to make a call when my life is on the line. Is it always the right call? Maybe fucking not. But it’s still my call to make. Not Garrett’s, not my mom’s, and most certainly not yours. Guess you didn’t actually learn that lesson when your sister left….”

Raw, jagged pain flickered across his face. But blink and you’d have missed it—because then he went still as a statue, dead eyes staring right through me.

I took a step back, by belly roiling. Had I … gone too far?

“How’s this for a little dose of reality?” he growled, his voice heavy with venom. He whirled, vanishing into the RV, the door slamming behind him with the finality of a blow to the gut. Then the engine sputtered to life and the RV screeched away, belching a cloud of acrid smoke in my face.

He was leaving me here? What an absolute baby. “That’s right!” I screamed after him, tears squeezing out, my sneakers planted on the blacktop. “Run the fuck away! See how much I care!”

But the RV vanished around the corner, a trail of coolant in its wake, the timing belt squealing the whole way.

Pain pulsed from my jaw where I’d been clenching. No, from my tooth. Shit, it even rocked a little under my tongue now. Ugh. I turned to limp back up the walkway, the apartment’s balconies looming above. People were probably skulking behind their windows now, judging me.

I had a right to make my own decisions when my life was at risk, when my family was threatened. Matt didn’t get to dictate what I did—or whine about it after the fact. If he wanted to help me so bad, why did he abandon me when half the world was out to get me? Some friend, huh. Really there in my time of need.

We’d fought before, but nothing like this. He was wrong. Flat out wrong. That was the part that pissed me off the most. I didn’t need his help, and I really didn’t need his drama. You know what, Matt? Good fucking riddance. Now I could do what needed doing without any second-guessing—or guilt-tripping admonishments I wasn’t letting him help.

The front door snapped open. Mom’s face was flushed, her arms strained with suitcases. “What happened? Where’s Matt?”

My tongue worried at my tooth. “He left.”

She frowned, her gaze scrubbing the courtyard as if he might be hiding under a bush. “The cab will be here soon.”

When the taxi finally arrived and we’d bundled ourselves into the back, I turned to face her. “Where’re we going?”

We accelerated past a taqueria, its bright, friendly stucco a mockery of our whole situation. Mom eyed the driver, a moonfaced guy with a droopy stare. “First, we’ll have a little chat with Laramee.” She leaned back, her jaw muscles rippling. “Then to a safe house. Matt … might want to join us.”

My eyes were wet. I felt super raw, like I might fall apart again at any moment. How could he just leave me? As if I was the asshole for saving everyone and turning out to be a robot.

And yet, through my cooling anger, the way Matt and I had left things made my heart ache. I knew from the rock in my gut I had some responsibility for how things had gone down on the bridge. Maybe I should have tried harder to convince him that charging into a firefight wasn’t the best move. At least I should have recognized his plan for what it was—actually trying to help. How could I let him help me though if we never agreed on what would keep us alive?

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. It didn’t matter now. Everything was fucked. I was a robot. Matt hated my guts. And Mom was sitting right next to me—but far, far away.

I lowered my voice. “So, uh, about my hand …”

She shook her head, shushing me.

“But Mom—”

“Patience.”

When we reached The Worldly Hen pub, the driver pulled to the curb between a cop car and a familiar-looking silver sedan. I tongued my tooth and slid from the taxi, my metal fingers flexing in my hoodie.

Mom bounded out, leaning back in through the open door and thrusting a wad of bills at the cab driver. “Keep it running. We won’t be long.”

The man’s heavy-lidded gaze slid from the cash to me to the pub.

Mom turned to brush past the bouncer and stomped into the pub as I tried to keep up.

The blinds were drawn against the sun, lending the room a cave-like feel. Heads snapped up from their drinks, curious eyes on us as we passed. There were no finger guns this time. When Mom reached the back, she swung open a door and stalked into a smaller room smelling of booze and rotted wood. I barely made it inside before she slammed the door behind us.

This place had the look of a storeroom turned occasional office. Wood paneling, dusty shelves, industrial cleaning products.

Officer Laramee looked up from a table with a grimace and a full tumbler, his gaze slipping from Mom’s glower to my gunmetal fingers. “I’m glad to see you’re both alright,” he said, raising the coppery drink to his lips.

Teeth set, Mom lunged—slapping his tumbler to the floor.