Apocalypsis: Book 2 (Warpaint) Read Online Free PDF Page B

fair thing to do.  You’re like, the master or whatever you call it, so you shouldn’t be inconvenienced.  But what I need to know is, how many people do you want in each class?  And do you get any days off?  Because its seems like you should.”
    I answered him, looking up at the ceiling of the chickee hut, appreciating how the branches and palm fronds were put together so tightly that they kept the rain from getting through, even without roof tiles, shingles, or tar.
    “I need two days off a week, but not next to each other.  Try Sunday and Wednesday, maybe.  And no more than ten people in a group unless we get desperate.  It’s better to always have even numbers also.  Oh, and no more than three sessions a day.  And I need at least an hour break between them, too.”  I had no idea how he was going to keep it all straight in his head without writing it down.
    “Okay, I can do that.”
    “Where’s Bodo?” I asked.
    “I have no idea.  He disappeared again.”
    “I hate when he does that.  He always gets into trouble.”
    “Not always.”
    “Okay, not always, but when he does get in trouble, it’s not minor trouble.  It’s major.”
    “True.”  Peter clanked some cans around on the shelves before saying, “So what’s the deal with you guys, anyway?  Are you like, romantically involved?”
    I chuckled.  “Romantically involved?  What the heck does that mean?”  All I could think about was a candlelight dinner at a restaurant - a pretty ridiculous idea considering where I was and what the world was like right now.
    “I don’t know,” he said, coming over and sitting next to me, gathering Buster into his lap.  “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”
    I sighed.  “I have no idea.  It’s confusing.”
    “Why?  What’s so confusing?  He likes you.  You like him.  Seems pretty simple.”
    I turned my head to look at Peter and Buster, busy playing the you-can’t-lick-me because-I-move-my-face-away-too-fast game.
    “Well, for one, I can never tell if he’s serious or joking.”
    “Uh-huh.  Well, that kiss you got today seemed pretty serious.”  Peter gave me a sassy look, challenging me to deny it.
    I smiled, trying hard not to, but failing.  “Yeah, that was kind of serious.  But all the other times he seems like he’s goofing off.   Like today he told me he wants to be Mr. Bryn.”
    Peter giggled.  “That’s kind of cute, actually.”
    “Shut up,” I said, feeling my face go red.
    “Well, even if he does joke around a lot, I know he likes you.  I can tell these things.”
    “Oh, so you’re, like, lovelorn-advice-column-guy?”
    “No.  I’m more like psychiatrist-with-lovesick-girl-on-the-couch-guy.”
    “I’m not lovesick,” I said, firmly believing it.  “I’m just … I don’t know.  Worried or something.”
    “Worried about what?”
    “Him.  His past.  His intentions.  Our future.  You.  Choose any of the above.”  It was depressing, really, hearing it said aloud.  It should have been so much simpler than this.  The world as we knew it had ended. There was no more high school drama, no more parents hassling us to do our homework or go to bed or stop texting.  But life was even more complicated now, not to mention dangerous.
    Peter frowned.  “His past … the future … me?  What are you talking about?”
    “Well, first of all, I have no idea where the hell he came from.”
    “He already told us that.  Germany.  And West Palm Beach.”
    “Yeah, but he’s been alone for, what?  Six months or longer?   I mean, what’s his deal?  Why was he alone that day we met him?”
    “I don’t know.  Maybe for the same reason I was.”
    “He didn’t lose a sibling to the canners.  He would have told us that.  And a guy like him?  Mr. Happy Guy?  He should have had a flock of people around him, right?  Or am I crazy?”
    Peter sighed.  “No.  You’re not crazy.  It is kind of weird, but I like him.  I’m sure he has a