The kids I worked with were nice enough; more than nice, actually. Most had never seen the inside of a camp but then again, I had never cooked a meal, so it wasn’t like any of us were winning in the life experience department. What I liked most was their brand of pluck. Lizzie, for instance, had been hiding out at East River for close to two years, having narrowly escaped capture by PSFs who had pulled her parents’ car over in Maryland.
“You just got out and ran?” I asked.
“Like the wind,” she confirmed. “Didn’t have anything on me at all, ’cept what I was wearing. I tried to meet up with my parents again, but they never went back to our old house. I got picked up by a tribe of Greens and brought here.”
That was another thing: most of the kids here were either Green or Blue, with a small tight-knit group of Yellows that didn’t really socialize outside of their own circle. Lizzie claimed that there used to be more, but the Slip Kid had given them permission to head out and form a tribe of their own.
“He gave them permission?” I repeated, marking down how many boxes of cereal we had left.
“Yeah, and there are other requirements, too.” That, from Dylan, a small-boned kid who had only recently finished his Cubbies lessons. He claimed the nickname came from the wood shelving units Clancy had built to store all of their books and schoolwork.
“You have to have at least a group of five,” he continued. “And then Clancy has to determine whether or not it’s safe, and you have to swear on your life not to reveal anything about the camp, unless it’s to another kid in need, and then you can only reveal the clue. It’s to keep everyone safe. It would kill him if something happened to a kid because of him.”
I felt myself soften a little then. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t trust Clancy’s motivations; he just unnerved me. When someone takes such an interest in you, you have to wonder what it is exactly they’re searching for in your face.
“What are you doing?”
All three of us looked over to the door, where Clancy stood stiff and still, staring at me. The wind from the open door behind him tugged at his dark hair, causing it to stand on end. Something inside of me coiled at his expression, but it wasn’t fear.
“We’re sorting,” Lizzie said, confused. “Is something wrong?”
Clancy snapped out of whatever daze he had been stuck in. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just—Ruby, would you mind coming with me for a second? I think there was some confusion on your assignment.”
I passed my clipboard back to Lizzie, wondering why her eyes narrowed at me.
“I was assigned to Storage,” I said, when we were standing outside on the porch.
“I didn’t assign you anything,” he said. “I specifically told Mike that.”
I’d like to think that I wasn’t the type of person to be easily intimidated by other kids—even the ones that were taller, stronger, or better armed than I was. So I’m not sure why it hit me then that I was talking to Clancy Gray. The son of the most powerful man in the country. A blue-blooded American prince, who wore his black polo shirt with the collar popped under a matching cable-knit sweater. He was even wearing a leather belt.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m more than capable of pulling my weight.”
Out in the sunlight, he was far less intimidating than he had been in the shade. And shorter. It was possible his reputation had added a few imaginary inches, but he was only a bit taller than I was, which meant both Liam and Chubs stood a nearly a full head over him. Not that it did anything to knock his title of The Most Attractive Person I Had Ever Seen.
Clancy was lean but not slight, well-kept but not groomed, composed but not comfortable. I thought, as the wind blew against us, that he might have been wearing some spicy cologne, but that seemed ridiculous.
I was glad we were out on the porch, where everyone by the fire pit could see us. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me, or anything like that—why would he? I felt my hands clasp together in front of me, then move to my side, then rise up to cup my elbows, like they couldn’t figure out what they wanted to be doing.
I hadn’t forgotten my whole purpose in coming here, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask for his help. He clearly had a good grasp on his own abilities if he was voluntarily diving into people’s minds—the question should have come as naturally as breathing.
If he had these kids following his every whim and order, it had to be because he was a good guy, right? People didn’t help other people just for their health. Clancy had the kind of confidence that made him the sun at the center of East River’s galaxy. Everything and everyone orbited around his light.
So why couldn’t I bring myself to ask? Why were my hands still shaking?
“I know you probably won’t ever come around to liking me after our introduction,” he said, “but I am sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you were keeping that information secret.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “But what does that have to do with my work assignment?”
For a few moments, he didn’t say anything at all. He just…stared.
“Will you stop?” I muttered, feeling both flustered and annoyed at once. “If I say you’re forgiven, will you stop doing that?”
His mouth turned up in a handsome grin. “No.”
Clancy, who apparently had never been taught about respecting someone’s personal space, took a step forward, and I took a step back, off the porch, my feet sinking into the sticky mud. Instead of backing off, he seemed to take it as a challenge, and came toward me again. For whatever reason, mostly the flutter of nerves in my gut, I let him.
“Listen,” he said, finally. “The reason I told Mike not to assign you anything is because I’m hoping that you’ll come work with me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, you heard me.” His hand closed over my arm, and it was like a bee had been set loose inside of my skull. My brain seemed to lurch full speed back into life, flooding with milky-white images of the two of us sitting in front his desk, staring at each other as a fire devoured everything around us.
The images he was flooding into my mind.
I don’t know how he did it, but it was so real. The image was burning me up from the inside out, blistering my lungs. Pockets of acrid smoke bubbled up under my skin, until it felt like I was about to burst open. My vision burned to black at the edges. Fire bloomed on my clothes, singeing my hair.