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care of yourselves! I am not in charge of you,” I said.
    He had started crying.
    I sighed and put my hand out to Max.
    â€œSorry,” I said.
    I thought he would shake my hand, but instead he fell toward me and then I realized: He was giving me a hug.
    Hard to tell, with all the layers. But I think it made him feel better.
    Then he said, “We’re so hungry.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Max, if you’re hungry, eat!” I said.
    â€œBut how?” he asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean, how? Open your mouth, put the food in, and chew!”
    He tapped on the plastic eye panel of his face mask.
    â€œHow do we get the food in?”
    I felt stupid. I hadn’t thought of that.
    I went back to try to help them. They ended up just lifting the edges of their masks and jamming the food in.
    I saw Max’s skin get red and blisters came up, so after he’d had the chance to shove a couple mouthfuls of trail mix in, I took it away from them.
    They lay down to sleep.
    I tried to stay up and keep watch, but I was as tired as everyone else.
    I do not know why no one came poking around the bus.
    Maybe it was because the bus looked so crappy from the outside.
    It was covered with splotches made by the paste that Robbie had the little kids use to seal any cracks or dings. The windows were boarded up.
    It probably looked like it died a long time ago.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    DEAN
    Â 
    DAY 12
    I decided to make the Train and the Living Room into more of a contained unit—a little home within the bigger store. That way we could light it and heat it when needed, and make it cheerful and less scary for the little kids.
    It was a good big project. I needed a big project to distract me from what had happened between me and Astrid.
    First I took my flashlight and went to the Toy Department. I had noticed that the row dividers there, unlike most of the other ones, appeared to be on wheels. They were locked down, of course, but they could be moved.
    I unlocked one from the aisle that held the board games. The divider had shelves (as opposed to hooks). That was great, I realized—we could use the shelves for supplies.
    I got down and figured out how to unlock the wheels. Then I pushed it back to the Train.
    It was hard work. The row divider was tall (maybe seven feet tall?) and heavy and unwieldy. It didn’t roll well, of course, so I had to push it at an angle, like a bad shopping cart.
    I was sweating and my chest was heaving by the time I got it to the Living Room.
    It was long and would make up one wall of the three-sided room I was planning to set around the Living Room.
    Astrid and the kids were over in the Kitchen. Probably having lunch.
    I didn’t want to feel left out, but of course I did.
    I focused on my plan to reconfigure our living arrangements.
    We would end up with the carpeted living space outside the berths, where our “kitchen” and main supplies would be. And then we’d have the Train, with our beds, right there. We would only need to go out to go to the Dump and get more supplies.
    There was probably a part of my mind that was aware that I was moving forward as if we would be staying in the Greenway for a long, long time, but all I could think of in the moment was that I wanted to show Astrid that I had good ideas and that I was smart and independent and I could move really heavy things.
    That’s the truth.
    *   *   *
    By the time I wrangled the second divider to the Living Room, Astrid and the kids were back from the Kitchen. Astrid and I ignored each other.
    She wordlessly handed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I wordlessly ate it and got back to work.
    PB&Js are delicious, but I guess that’s common knowledge.
    The kids were trying to play a board game under the Christmas tree lights. Caroline was lying on her side as she played. She looked wiped out.
    â€œDean, come play Monopoly with us,” Chloe commanded. “Caroline and