Gone

sidewalk, laughing, were Panda, a Coates kid named Chris, and Quinn. Panda and Chris held baseball bats. Chris was also carrying a white trash bag. Inside the bag, just visible, was the logo of a new model game player.
    “Did you throw a rock at my brother?” Astrid yelled, fearless in her outrage. She dropped to her knees beside Little Pete.
    Sam was halfway across the lawn, moving with a purposeful stride.
    “What did you do, Panda?”
    “He was ignoring me,” Panda said.
    “Panda was just goofing, Sam,” Quinn said. He stepped between Sam and Panda.
    “Throwing a rock at a defenseless little kid is just goofing?” Sam demanded. “And what are you doing hanging with this creep, anyway?”
    “Who you calling a creep?” Panda demanded. He took a tighter grip on his baseball bat, but not really like he meant to start swinging.
    “Who do I call a creep? Anyone who throws a rock at a little kid,” Sam said, not backing down.
    Quinn raised his hands, playing the peacemaker. “Look, take a breath, brah. We were just on a little mission for Mother Mary. She drafted Panda and sent him to look for some littlekid’s stuffed bear, okay? We were doing a good thing.”
    “Doing good and stealing someone’s stuff?” Sam pointed at the trash bag in Chris’s grip. “And on the way back, you figured you’d throw a rock and hit an autistic kid?”
    “Hey, step off,” Quinn said. “We’re bringing the game to Mary so she has something for the kids to do.”
    Little Pete was screaming in Astrid’s ear now, so she couldn’t hear everything that was said, just snatches of angry words between an increasingly huffy Quinn and a coldly furious Sam.
    Then Sam spun on his heel and stalked back toward her and Quinn gave him the finger behind his back and sauntered off down the street with Panda and the Coates kid.
    Sam threw himself violently into a porch chair. For the ten minutes it took Astrid to soothe her little brother and redirect him to his video game, Sam just seethed.
    “He’s becoming useless. Worse than useless,” Sam said. Then, relenting, he said, “We’ll get past it.”
    “You mean you and Quinn?”
    “Yeah.”
    Astrid considered just keeping her mouth shut, not pushing it. But this was a talk she needed to have with Sam sooner or later. “I don’t think he’s going to get over it.”
    “You don’t know him that well.”
    “He’s jealous of you.”
    “Well, of course I am so terribly handsome,” Sam said, straining to make a joke of it.
    “He’s one kind of person, you’re another. When life is going along normally, you’re sort of the same. But when lifeturns strange and scary, when there’s a crisis, suddenly you’re completely different people. It’s not Quinn’s fault, really, but he’s not brave. He’s not strong. You are.”
    “You still want me to be the big hero.”
    “I want you to be who you are.” She remained beside Little Pete but reached out to take Sam’s hand. “Sam, things are going to get worse. Right now everyone is kind of in a state of shock. They’re scared. But they haven’t even realized how scared they should be. Sooner or later the food supply runs out. Sooner or later the power plant fails. When we’re sitting in the dark, hungry, despairing, who’s going to be in charge? Caine? Orc? Drake?”
    “Well,” he said dryly, “you make it all sound like a lot of fun.”
    “Okay, I’ll stop nagging you,” Astrid said, sensing that she needed to back off. She was asking the impossible of this boy she barely knew. But she knew it was the right thing to do.
    She believed in him. She knew he had a destiny.
    She wondered why. It wasn’t logical, really. She didn’t believe in destiny. All her life Astrid had relied on her brain, on her grasp of facts. Now some part of her she barely knew existed, some buried, neglected part of her mind was urging her on—no good reasons, just an instinct that kept pushing her to push him.
    But she was sure.
    Sure.
    Astrid turned her face toward Little Pete so that Sam wouldn’t see the frown of worry on her face, but she didn’t release his hand.
    She was sure. Like she was answering two plus two. That sure.
    She let go of his hand. She took a deep, shaky breath. And now she was not sure at all. Her frown deepened. “Let’s go get the groceries,” Astrid said.
    He was elsewhere, preoccupied, so he didn’t notice the way Astrid stared at her own hands, face screwed up in concentration. She wiped her palms