In the After

We sat on a bench and watched them. I never liked little kids much, except for Baby, but I now felt drawn to them. It was relaxing, seeing them play and struggle.
    Baby grabbed my hand. Amy? Why does that little boy look like you? She pointed and my eyes followed her finger to one of the blue-clothed children close to us.
    He was playing with a bright yellow truck, filling it with sand and emptying it out in a heap. When he stood, I could see him better: he had my dark hair and eyes, my round chin. He did look like me and my breath caught. Staring, I watched as he joined a line for the slide, impatiently hopping from foot to foot. When he reached the stairs, he rushed up, took a misstep, and fell forward.
    “Adam!” someone yelled. One of the teachers rushed to his side and scooped him up. She checked him and comforted him, wiping the tears from his face.
    I could feel Baby’s eyes on me. Rice’s too. I must have looked terrible or at least in terrible shock.
    “I think that’s my brother,” I whispered, also signing my words to Baby.
    The color drained from Rice’s face. “Oh my gosh, how could I have been so stupid? I’m so sorry, Amy.” He put his hand on my arm and I didn’t pull away. “I should have thought. I knew the director’s son would be here. I should have prepared you.”
    Baby buried her head in my side and wouldn’t look up. I pushed aside my own distress. What’s wrong? I asked when I finally managed to place my hand in hers.
    If you have him, you don’t need me , she said, her worst fear coming to light. With all the events of the past day, I hadn’t thought about how Baby would react to my “new” family.
    You’re my sister , I told her. It doesn’t matter how many other people we love, we’ll always be sisters .
    Baby nodded, still with her head on my side. She didn’t want to let go of me, and I didn’t mind. She anchored me to who I was.
    I looked up at Rice and smiled. “We’re okay,” I assured him.
    “Great,” he exhaled loudly, genuinely relieved. He clearly wanted to move on. “Let’s get some chocolate milk.” He grinned at Baby. “Would you like that?”
    Baby raised her eyebrows and half smiled. She didn’t understand him, but she knew he was excited about something and wanted her to be excited too. She waved her hand in front of her face.
    “Fan!” Rice shouted, pleased. I smiled. The tension melted away, though I was still unsettled.
    I like him , Baby told me.
    Me too . He’s . . . nice . I wasn’t sure how I felt. His knowledge of this place was comforting, and he did make me feel at ease—which was something I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was also cute, and something dipped in my stomach every time we were close. But after being on my own for so long, I wondered if I would recognize a crush if I tripped over one.
    “Can you teach me more of the words in your language?” Rice asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. “It’s fascinating, all the modifications you’ve made, especially how sometimes you sign into each other’s hands when you don’t want people to know you’re communicating.”
    “Oh, you noticed that?”
    “It’s not obvious,” he assured me, “but sometimes you hold hands and tell me what she’s saying. Either she’s letting you know somehow or you’re a mind reader.”
    I bit my lip. “You wouldn’t believe the latter, would you? You shouldn’t underestimate my psychic ability.”
    “I’ll believe it if you guess what I’m thinking right now.” He turned and looked intensely into my eyes. I noticed again how good-looking he was. He and I stared at each other, not saying anything, for what felt like minutes. I smiled, a real smile this time, not the forced, tense imitation of a smile I’d been wearing all morning.
    It was strange. On some level I genuinely felt comfortable with Rice, almost like he was a friend from Before. I raised my thumb and pointer finger to each temple. “You are thinking . . .” I feigned concentration. “. . . that you wish you didn’t have to babysit two post-aps when you could be off somewhere engineering chemicals.”
    “Clearly you are not a mind reader.” He grinned, turning to Baby. “I’m actually enjoying this. You and Baby are . . . different.”
    “Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
    “No, I mean in a good way.” He looked at me again. “I’m really glad you’re here. And I won’t tell anyone about you two being able to communicate through