September 8

"No."

That's what I said when I saw May grabbing a hammer from the toy box. She turned back to me. "Like you said yesterday, there are tons of people starving, so we need to take what's ours before other people go for them."

"Going into abandoned houses, that's safe," I said, completely regretting telling May the truth about what had happened yesterday. "But literally breaking into the houses. What if someone's living there?"

"Again, eyes," she said pointing to her eyes.

"But what if they're in hiding, like waiting to ambush you?"

"That's not going to happen," she said. "And plus, I can just pretend that I'm a confused middle-schooler."

"You're literally going to turn fifteen in two weeks. There's no way you can pull off the confused tween look," I replied. "Just go to the Hunters' house. We left a ton of stuff behind in the basement."

She ignored the second half of what I said. "Exactly. Just think of this as an early birthday present. At least I'm not asking for a Ferrari or something. And plus, you don't even need to deal with Mom and Dad since they're probably going to be gone all day woodcutting. All you need to deal with is Mira and her annoying preachy attitude."

"She just wants to help."

"Well she should be helping us more," May said. "While she's going out there doing whatever, I'm here doing the work for us."

She grabbed a backpack and put a flashlight, lamp, hammer, and mallet in there while slipping a pocketknife into her knife. She noticed me staring at the pocketknife. "Don't worry. I'm not going to stab anyone."

I stood by the doorway. "You're leaving now?"

"Yeah," she said. "Before my stupid fire watch shift starts. I'll come in from the backdoor, so just make sure you keep Mira in the living room. That shouldn't be too hard, definitely easier than last time."

I didn't know why I kept getting roped into all of May's plans, and as she exited the hallway, I said, "Don't do anything stupid because of boredom."

"I'm not doing this because I'm bored," she said, and I couldn't tell if that was the truth of a lie because the most stupid things I've seen people in apocalypse movies do are when they're bored, like go out and punch zombies or race down streets in expensive cars only to crash and die.

I kept a watch out for Mira as May snuck out of the backdoor. After that, I went to the living room to spy on Mira for May, and even though I didn't want to, I'd feel guilty about it, so I sat down on my mattress, gazing at the cracking fire.

"Where's May?" she asked.

I'd already made up an excuse for that (one of my better ones I'd say). "In her room. I guess she wants some privacy—"

"She's still mad at me, isn't she?"

I thought she was going to say that. "Yeah. She is."

"I think I should go to her," Mira said and stood up, and I scrambled up to stop her as she continued, "I've been dancing around this issue a lot, and I think it's time to talk it out and just figure it out once and for all. Should I tell her about the woman that died? I know that I lied to her, but maybe my gut is right and telling the truth will help her understand and—"

"Slow down," I said, though I wished I could command my heart to do that. "I think what May needs is just some time."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Mira didn't say anything before sitting down and adding, "You're right. I'm acting like Mom and Dad now, aren't I? Being a little too pushy and too impatient."

"Nah," I said. "Mom and Dad would've barged into that room a long time ago. Patience is definitely not a virtue for them."

"How will I know when it's the right time?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. It might be something you just know, like love or something."

Mira suddenly started laughing. "You've probably read too many books."

"What does that have to do with anything I just said?"

"You know, love isn't just something you know," she said. "Well, not all of it. A small part of it is like that little spark, but most of love is about communication and listening and understanding. I guess the best analogy is that it's like a heart. That spark of possibility is the heart itself, but you've got to work the heart and beat it to make it work."

"So, you're saying that love is a bloody organ," I said, and she chuckled. "That was either the best or the worst analogy that I've ever heard in my life."

"It took me a while to figure that one out," she said and stood up, and for a second, I thought that she was going to go get May and that my whole plan failed. "I'll go get some firewood. It seems to be running low."

"I'll go get the cards," I said. "What do you want to play? Egyptian War or Slap Jack?"

"The first one," she said. "My hand hurts from yesterday's game."

"Totally," I said, with a hint of sarcasm. "You can just say that you don't want a rematch."

So then we ended up playing a bunch of games of Slap Jack before switching to Egyptian War after we got bored. I beat her up badly in Slap Jack, but got beaten up even worse in Egyptian War, and sometime while we were playing these games May came home, and Mira noticed her standing next to us. "You want to play?"

May shook her head. "What's for lunch?"

"I'll go check Mom and Dad's food list," she said, standing up and checking the phone's laying on top of the greenbox, pouring bright white light onto the sprouting plants. "Oh. It's way past noon already. I'll go make something."

May nodded and headed back to our room, and I followed her. Once we closed the door, she burst into a smile and opened up the toy box. "Look what I found."

There was certainly a much larger haul compared to last time. Maybe around two dozen cans, ranging from brussel sprouts to chocolate pudding. There was also a half-full flour package, a small package of kidney beans, and an even smaller package of dried boba. I also noticed that there were some new miscellaneous things, like a plastic bag of batteries or towels or new pants.

"And you got that all from a house?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Did anyone see you?"

"No," she said. "And stop panicking and just appreciate what we have. I'll probably go out and try for another house next week."

"She's going to get suspicious, you know?" I said. "I can't just keep saying that you're in your room because you're mad at her, and at some point, she's going to talk to you."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Well we'll figure things out later," she said and left the room, and I followed behind.

Mom and Dad came back really late, like a bit after the sun had set when the sky was a deep navy, and the stars were just barely visible. I'm surprised that they even found their way back without any flashlights, though I suppose that I have the moon to credit for making nighttime much brighter. They didn't eat dinner and just went straight to bed, plopping down on their mattress in the living room and falling asleep. May brought a blanket for them, and when Mira came back home late at night, she asked, "Did Mom and Dad eat?"

"No," I said.

"We've got to make sure that they do," Mira said. "I'll try convincing them, but Mom and Dad are still mad—"

"I'll do it," May said, cutting into the conversation and both of us looked at her weirdly. "What? You know I've got ears, right? And plus, Mom and Dad aren't mad at me right now, so they might listen to me better, and let's be honest, Neal, there's a reason why you were the worst debater on your team."

I ignored May, and Mira said, "Thank you."

"I'm doing it for us," May said before yawning. "I'm going to sleep now."

And when she left to brush, Mira turned towards me. "I made progress, right?"

"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "I don't know. I can barely tell what she's thinking sometimes."

And soon after that Mira went to sleep, and then when everyone was snoring, and I got bored just staring at the crackling fire, so I went and got that book and resumed where I had left off, right before they were going to kiss. There was a bit of a delay, and I skimmed over the unrealistically witty dialogue and the faux nervousness of these confident characters to get to what I was looking for.

When they kissed, they said that it was like fireworks and joy and everything good. Even though I knew that it was a fantasy and that it'd more likely be awkward and messy and weird, I let myself take in the fantasy and thought really hard about kissing the guy in the magazine with his perfect face and everything, and just for a second, I think I liked the idea. I think I liked thinking of his soft palms brushing away my hair, his scruff just grazing on my cheek, his warm breath on me.

And I guess if everything goes back to normal, I wonder if I'll be confident enough to say that I do like the idea. I wish I could say that, but I just can't, and maybe that's what the apocalypse is for, so that the new me will be better than the old me.