The Space Between Us Read Online Free PDF

level, that’s all. You go to bed. I’m fine.”
    Since Vic often got up even earlier than I had to for the morning shift, I knew he wouldn’t be fine. “You look tired—”
    “I’m a grown-up, Tesla,” he interrupted through tight jaws, his eyes steady on the waves of zombies coming to kill Leon S. Kennedy, until he flicked a gaze at me. “I can decide for myself when to go to bed.”
    I stepped back, tossing up my hands. “Fine. You’re right. Good night.”
    “ ’Night,” I heard him repeat as I left the den and headed for my bedroom.
    He was right, of course. I wasn’t his mom, perish the thought, and I wasn’t his wife. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have the right to worry about him, did it? Vic worked hard, long hours at the garage and used-car lot he owned. He had two kids and a pregnant wife. He had me living in his basement.
    Showered and in bed, I heard the faint sounds of zombie deaths through the door. Then, as I was drifting to sleep, silence. Then the comforting creak of the floor in the kitchen, the living and dining rooms. Vic was making his rounds. Checking the doors and windows, making sure everything was locked and we were all safe.
    His footsteps on the basement stairs sent me staring, wide-eyed, into the darkness. I heard him moving around the perimeter of the basement, doing what? Checking the windows down here, too? They were too small and awkward for anyone to get through. I heard the rattle of a toy being kicked, the mutter of a curse. Then the metallic squeak of my doorknob being turned slowly.
    A square of lighter darkness appeared as my door opened. I couldn’t make out his silhouette, but I could hear him breathing. I heard the soft scuff of his feet on the carpeting, and I closed my eyes tight. Stifled and slowed my breathing so there’d be no way he could think I was awake.
    I tensed when Vic leaned over me. But instead of touching me, all he did was press the lock on the high, narrow window above my bed. Then, assured all was well, he left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.
    I let out my breath in a whoosh and burrowed deeper into my pillows. Chill sweat had broken out all over me, and I was breathing hard. Warmth filled the cave I’d made, but it took me a long time to stop shivering.
    And when I did, when I slept, I dreamed.
    * * *
    I don’t know what Vic does when he’s not at The Compound, but when he is here, he works on cars. Some people here, like my parents, for example, drive Volvos or BMWs the rest of the year, but during the summer they ride around in beater cars. Old Jeeps, dinged up and rusted muscle cars, stuff like that. Because The Compound’s not about money or status, it’s about getting along with people and raising vegetables and flowers or some shit like that, I don’t know. I’ve been coming here my whole life, and all I know is that this summer I’ve been bored out of my mind.
    There’s not much to do for me here. I could hang out in what they call the crèche, helping with the little kids, but the stench of cloth diapers gets to me after a while. I could help in the gardens, weeding and stuff, but it’s the hottest summer on record for like, twenty years, and it’s just brutal out in the fields. And for what? I don’t even like tomatoes.
    I’m like that girl in the song in that movie, the one about the family that sings while they escape from the Nazis. I’m sixteen, going on seventeen, and I don’t have a TV, a computer or a phone, and there are tons of younger kids here and lots of adults, but there’s only one other girl my age and we don’t get along. Her parents live here full-time, and she acts like that makes her better than me, when really I think it should be the other way around. She thinks Adam Ant was in Culture Club, and I know that’s a little old school for some kids, but still.
    So I spend my time hanging around the garage. It’s loud in there with the clanking of tools, but Vic’s got a radio