Chapter Fifty
“GO HOME,” JASPER TELLS ME. Greeley’s already bounced off to polish her array of weapons.
The two of us stand in front of Chief’s door, awkwardly staring at one another.
A potted zombie fern unfurls to my left.
Funny thing, zombie ferns. They look a lot like fiddlehead ferns in their infancy state, only larger: dark pink-purple, spiraling tendrils curling in on themselves.
Like the roly-poly bugs Bunny used to catch.
“Home,” I repeat. “Andrew’s house, you mean.”
“It is your home now,” he says. Sure doesn’t feel like it. “Get some rest.”
“First of all”—I step toward him—“it won’t be my home for much longer because I’ll probably die tomorrow.” He opens his mouth to respond, but I hold a finger up to his mouth. “Secondly, it’s not even 9:00 a.m. I don’t need sleep.”
Jasper bends down and plucks a stem out of the pot, inspecting it. “My mom had a bunch of these around our house growing up. Sometimes, she’d fry them up in the cast iron.” I make a face. “Don’t knock it before you try it. They made a great after-school snack.”
“What do you think would happen if we ate these?”
“They’re rotten, just like the zombie version of everything else.”
“But they’re kind of beautiful, aren’t they? In a jarring sort of way?” I wonder if that’s why Chief keeps them potted.
“There’s beauty in just about anything if you know where to look.”
I glance away from him, refusing to guess at any hidden meaning in his words. Instead, I stare at my very interesting feet. Two scuffed-up black Converse. Size seven. A little Sharpie heart doodled on the rubber toe. So very interesting.
No. I force my eyes to meet his. “Jasper—I don’t want to go home.” His brows furrow. “Can I come with you to the tunnels?”
He shakes his head. “You’ll see plenty of tunnels tonight.”
“I want to come with—”
“No.”
I nod, feeling utterly dejected. Why is he acting like this? Because of my Egal escapades? I assumed after last night we were fine . . .
Jasper walks to where his bike is locked up around a tree. Treading lightly, I follow close behind him.
I say, “Crazy how the bike survived, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Give me something to work with.
I look at the whimpering rubber wheels. “If you need new tires, I’ll go on a supply run to find some—after this is all over.”
“Cool,” he says.
I watch him punch in the lock.
“You changed your code?”
“Kota.” Jasper spins around, his eyes empty. I can’t read anything on his face. “I don’t want to be around you right now. Please.”
“But . . .” But we kissed. “Are you mad at me for leaving? I see now that it was reckless, but—”
“No,” he says, his voice soft. “I’m not mad about that. I would have done the same thing in your shoes. It’s just . . .” He runs a hand through his messy brown curls. “Chief wants you to crawl through the tunnel into Egal. Chief wants you to kill Chandler. Chief wants you to take her place.”
“You still don’t think I can do it?”
“Of course you can do it,” he says. “But after all is said and done, you’ll be the most powerful person in the Split. And power changes people.”
“You think I’ll become like her. Like Chandler.”
He doesn’t deny my accusation. “I can’t lose you.”
I reach for Jasper’s hand, but he pulls away. My voice is a whisper as I say, “You won’t lose me.”
“Just let me be alone for a bit, Kota.”
Before I can get in another word, Jasper hauls himself onto the bike and pedals away. His figure dwindles in the distance.
MY WALK HOME IS SLOW. Every single step hurts, and I want to curl up in the middle of the road and cry.
Soon. Soon, you can rest your head on your stinky pillow and cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be home soon.
But as I push open the front door, I know full well that this house will never, ever be my home. The smell of someone else envelops me, and the sight of the sunken recliner hits me like a smack in the face. As I cross the foyer, I step on a piece of glass I missed when sweeping earlier.
I don’t even make it past the bare mantel before I fall to my knees and cry. What’s the point of any of this if I have no one to share it with?