Gone

months Sam had known about the box. Known where he could find the key.
    Now the box was gone.
    He had very little doubt who had taken it, who had searched the house.
    By now, Caine knew that Sam had the power.
    He retrieved his bike. Right now he wanted desperately to be with Astrid. She would make sense of everything.
    Most kids now got around on bikes—not always their own—or skateboards. Only the prees walked. And as he crossed through the plaza on his way to Astrid’s home there was a procession of them walking right across the street. Brother John was in the lead. Mother Mary was pushing a two-seat stroller. Some girl in a Coates uniform was carrying a toddler on her hip. Two other kids, drafted for the day, were shepherding the line of some thirty or so preschoolers. They were solemn for a group of little kids but there was at least some horseplay, enough that Mary had to yell, “Julia and Zosia, get back in line.”
    The twins, Emma and Anna, brought up the rear. Sam knew them fairly well, having actually gone out with Anna on a date once. Emma had a single stroller, and Anna was pushing a Ralph’s grocery store cart loaded with snacks and diapers and baby bottles.
    Sam stopped and waited for them to cross the street. They stuck to the crosswalk, which, he supposed, was a good thing. Best for the prees to learn to cross the street like there might be traffic. Some kids had been doing some driving, often withbad results. Caine had the rules on that too, now: no one was allowed to drive, except for some of Caine’s people and Edilio, who theoretically might have to drive the ambulance or the fire truck. If he ever figured out how.
    “T’sup, Anna?” Sam asked politely.
    “Hi, Sam. Where have you been?”
    He shrugged. “Fire station. I kind of live there now.”
    Anna pointed at the littles marching ahead of her. “Baby duty.”
    “Drag,” Sam said.
    “It’s okay. I don’t mind it.”
    “And she’s great at it, too,” Mary called back encouragingly.
    “I can change a diaper in under sixty seconds,” Anna said with a laugh. “Less, if it’s number one.”
    “Where are you guys all going?”
    “The beach. We’re going on a picnic.”
    “Cool. See you later,” Sam said.
    Anna waved over her shoulder as she passed.
    “Hey, wish Anna and me happy birthday, Sam,” Emma called back.
    “Happy birthday to both of you,” Sam said. He stood up on the bike’s pedals and picked up speed, heading for Astrid’s.
    He felt a little sad thinking back on his one date with Anna. She was a nice girl. But he wasn’t all that interested in dating back then, that was the truth. He’d only gone out because he felt like it was required. He didn’t want kids to think he was adork. And his mother kept asking about whether he was going out, so he had taken Anna to a movie. He remembered the movie, in fact: Stardust .
    His mother had driven them. It was her night off. His mom had dropped them at the theater and picked them up afterward. He and Anna had gone to the California Pizza Kitchen and split a barbeque chicken pizza.
    Birthday?
    Sam jerked the bike into a sharp turn and pounded the pedals back, back toward where he’d passed the prees. It didn’t take long to catch them. They were just reaching the beach, all the toddlers toddling over the low seawall, laughing now as they took off their shoes and ran onto the sand and Mother Mary, sounding just like a teacher, yelled, “Hang on to your shoes, don’t lose your shoes, Alex, pick up your shoes and carry them.”
    Anna and Emma had parked the shopping cart full of snacks and diapers and bottles. Emma was unbuckling her charge from the stroller.
    “Check his diaper,” Mother Mary reminded her, and Emma did.
    Sam threw his bike down and ran, breathless, to Anna.
    “What’s up, Sam?”
    “What birthday?” he panted.
    “What?”
    “What birthday, Anna?”
    It took a while for her to absorb his fear. It took a while for the reason for his fear to dawn on her.
    “Fifteen,” Anna said in a whisper.
    “What’s the matter?” Emma asked, sensing her twin’s mood. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
    “It doesn’t,” Anna whispered.
    “You’re probably right,” Sam said.
    “Oh, my God,” Anna said. “Are we going to disappear?”
    “When were you born?” Sam asked. “What time of day?”
    The twins exchanged scared looks. “We don’t know.”
    “You know what, no one has blinked out since that first day, so it’s