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and Will the whole way to the lake. There were loads of kids there my age tumbling through the grass, hitting baseballs, and shovingeach other as they ran the bases. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to draw what I was seeing—I wanted to be a part of it.
    We played until it was too dark to see. My mom stayed and watched me for hours, but eventually she started to drift back toward the trailers and some of the other adults who were gathered there. She hadn’t given me such a long leash of freedom since Karen. It felt good, like stretching my legs did after the long plane trip we took to get there.
    That night we ate our first meal with the Community. I loved it because the table was never quiet, not like back in New York. We ate outside, with Pioneer grilling up burgers and my dad leaning over site plans with some of the other men.
    Later, I ended up sprawled in the grass with a belly full of potato salad and watermelon. I was too tired to sit up any longer. I couldn’t remember ever being this utterly spent. Will was lying beside me and we were throwing grapes into each other’s mouths. All around us, people laughed and talked and ate. I couldn’t stop smiling. I had a new best friend and plenty of room to run around. I never wanted to leave. I was home.

I watch over these people. They’ve put their safety,
their very futures, in my hands. It’s an awesome responsibility,
to be sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
—Pioneer
     

     
    As soon as the sun starts filling up my room in the morning, I throw on some clothes and head for the stables. I want to forget about yesterday, to put a mile of prairie between me and any thoughts of self-defense. Of course, I’ll have to settle for riding Indy around the corral instead.
    Riding always clears my head and calms me down. I’m sure that if I ride long enough now I’ll be able to get my head straight and dedicate myself to what I need to do. Plus, I love the smell of the barn. It’s a medley of sweet hay and warm saddle leather with a not-so-subtle undercurrent of manure, which sounds disgusting because of the poop but is actually really nice. I wish there was a way to convey this smell in my paintings. Somehow it’s as much of what makes this place beautiful as the scenery is.
    Indy’s in the last stall on the right. He’s already snorting and kicking at his door. He knows I’m coming and that I always bring carrots.
    “Hey, boy. Ready to ride?” I say. He nuzzles my fingers while I feed him.
    We ride out into the center of the corral. It’s still pretty quiet, which makes me feel like I’m completely alone. Most of the rest of the Community is still getting ready for the day. There’s just Indy and about a dozen lazy flies to keep me company. I ride early on purpose. I love it when I have the place all to myself.
    I nudge Indy in the flanks and he lunges forward. We go from a bouncy trot to a rocking canter, and I sit back into the saddle and let my mind go blank. The only way this morning could get better is if there was enough space for Indy to gallop, but the corral’s too small and we’re not allowed to ride out on the prairie alone. We have to go in a group, which for me defeats the purpose of riding, really. Still, I settle for the corral and pretend that it’s bigger than it is and not just a horse-sized hamster wheel. And I feel better, more relaxed, by the time some of the other Community members are beginning their morning chores. I can do what I’m supposed to. I
will do
what I’m supposed to. From now on I will stop resisting what Pioneer wants.
    An hour later I’m on guard duty at the front gate with Brian. I’ve never understood why we have round-the-clock coverage here. It’s not like we ever get visitors, at least not with any regularity. Except this time there is a visitor. A car trailing a cloud of dust is heading down the dirt road that leads to the development.
    Brian notices it first. I’m just about to