think of to put “Mariner” in perspective is the Marines. “I can’t join the Marines.”
“No. You can’t. There aren’t any Marines left.”
That sits between us for a while, until I finally say, “I don’t understand.”
“You tested very well, you know.”
I raise one shoulder.
“The Mariners are the new military.”
So, not the Marines, but he was still sending me to be in the military. “With one leg?”
“With one leg. You’ll learn to use your prosthesis. Everything has changed, Leanne. Our military doesn’t need to do the same things it did before. You’re going to be fine.”
By the time I wheel myself out of the building and down to the little parking lot where Alex waits for me, my mind is spinning. I’d been so sure that I was wrong about staying.
“We have to leave sooner than we thought.” He takes the handles of my chair, and even though I’d rather push myself, takes off fast. “Leanne, are you listening to me?”
“I’m listening,” I say. “Slow down.”
“We have to go. Now. Tonight.”
I look around, checking to make sure no one is close enough to hear. “What are you talking about?”
“Maggie told her teacher that I’m not her brother.”
My stomach does this weird backflip. “Why would she do that?”
“Some kind of therapy thing,” he said. “Trying to get the kids to talk about their grief or something like that. Anyway, she got upset about Tomas and told the truth. A social worker was by this afternoon. She didn’t take Maggie, but we can’t risk it.”
“Alex—” I’d been sure that my school assignment was a sign that staying was the right thing to do, but when I speak what comes out is: “I’m going with you.”
My words surprise me as much as they do him. He comes to a stop. “Are you sure?”
I am. I can tell by how right it feels. “I’m sure.”
He starts moving again, almost running. I am thrown around my chair with every bump in the sidewalk, but I just hold on tight and don’t complain. It’s a little like flying.
Maggie is already in her room, packing whatever she can’t live without into a blue and white duffel bag. Her cheeks are stained with tears that are still falling. That’s why Alex left her at home.
“Can you find me a bag?” I ask.
She looks up, one hand clutched around a stuffed dog that Angelica gave her before we left the hospital. “You’re coming?”
It makes me so happy to be the one that takes away her sad face. She throws the dog into her bag, then runs out of the room. She’s gone all of ten seconds before she’s back with a purple backpack covered in pink hearts. Her school backpack.
When I wheel myself back out to the hallway, I see a litter of papers and pencils scattered over the living room floor.
“Let me help you.” Alex takes the backpack from me and shoves a handful of my underwear into the bottom of it.
I wheel myself to the closet and open it. “It’s going to be colder there.”
“I know.” Alex moves me out of his way. It seems to me that he’s just ripping my clothes off hangers without looking, but I see T-shirts and yoga pants go in, and my favorite sweatshirt, so I don’t complain. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”
He puts the backpack in my lap and wheels me out of the bedroom, kicking Maggie’s school debris out of his way.
“Slow down!”
He stops just short of ramming my knees into the wall next to the front door. “I’m sorry. Maggie! Let’s go!”
We leave everything behind, without even thinking about it. It isn’t our stuff. Even what we’re bringing with us belonged first to someone who is dead now. There is nothing keeping us in Reno. Nothing. I’m still not sure about going without the shots, but I don’t care anymore. We won’t be that far from Denver.
I stand up and walk a couple of wobbly steps to the car. Alex opens the passenger door for me and the back door for Maggie. This feels surreal, and too fast. I was in school being put