Page 72 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

“I don’t know. She didn’t say he was senile.” Ash sat across
from her at the table. “What about food?” They had enough
for another three days, tops.
“We’ll dip into our stash and go shopping today. Buy
nothing that costs more than a dollar.”
Ash nodded, stabbing at his oats. “Maybe Nate and his
dad would help us?” He dropped his spoon in the bowl. That
conversation would be painful.

“I don’t know,” Greta said. “It doesn’t seem like they have
a lot of money.” Something about Nate’s generic clothes and
the worn furniture in their place reminded her of their own.
His dad’s pickup was more rust than truck around the wheel
wells. “And we’d have to come clean to his dad.” She didn’t
want to tell Ash she’d already texted Roger: We’re running out
of food. Ash wouldn’t want to know about it, either the plea ADVANCE READING COPY

for help or the silence that followed.
“I’ll go back to the mall today,” she offered, “to see if
anyone else is hiring. And we can bus to the library tomorrow
and use their computers to check the online classifieds.”
Ash nodded but looked away, his food untouched. They
both saw it now, the bow of their ship tipping over the edge
of the world.
“Eat it.” She nudged his arm and looked down at the
oatmeal. There were only two more packets in the box. They

couldn’t waste it.
They went to the mall first, and Greta filled out an
application at a sub-sandwich place in the food court. As
she walked past another counter, her stomach dropped.

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