“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Reed cupped the back of Nate’s neck and pulled him close to examine his face.
“The herbalist said I’m not getting enough greens.” With Reed’s face so close and his hand so warm, the controlled tone of Nate’s lie slipped. All he had on was a thin bath sheet that wasn’t going to hide a thing if Reed got him riled up. “I bought some. And the tincture helped. It’s fine, Reed.”
“None of us eat enough of anything,” Reed said. “But you’re the only one around here who looks half dead half the time.”
Embarrassment swelled in Nate’s chest. No matter what Nate did, Reed was only going to see him as a liability. A lie waiting to get found out. And he wasn’t even wrong about that.
Nate swept Reed’s hand away, drawing on a flare of anger. It felt better than hurt and a lot better than longing. “If I’m not doing my job well enough, find another Tinkerer.”
Pain flashed in Reed’s eyes before he went still. “I like my Tinkerer fine.” He stood and closed the makeshift curtain around Nate’s bed. “Get some sleep.”
Hot with shame, Nate pulled his clothes back on, fabric sticking to his damp skin. He curled into a tight ball that didn’t make him feel any better about snapping at Reed for no good reason. As the others chatted, Nate struggled to get comfortable and shed the weight of guilt on his chest. Reed was the only person he wanted to impress, but all he did was disappoint him.
The day lingered like grease on his skin, unease mingling with the reek of sweat still clinging to him. He rolled over and bunched up the blanket under his head, one ugly thought turning to another, until a little knot of fear in his belly made itself known.
He’d gotten through today. But what would happen tomorrow? He’d never gotten so sick so soon after taking Remedy.
Pixel pushed the curtain open and crawled into his bed. He drew her close and sighed out a breath that became a yawn.
She couldn’t have been much more than five when Reed found her crammed in a duct while scavenging. According to Reed, it had taken an hour and several bite wounds to get her out. She’d only known her name—and couldn’t tell them how she’d gotten there or anything that had happened to her before. They’d had no use for a child in the gang, but she’d fallen asleep in Reed’s arms, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to put her down anywhere but the shelter of their hideout. Brick said that for a few weeks, they’d talked about finding a family for her, somewhere she could grow up safely without having to run and starve and scavenge.
But no one in the Withers wanted another mouth to feed.
She was still small and fit neatly in Nate’s arms. “You’re shivering,” she said.
“No, I’m not.” When she didn’t argue with him, he squeezed her gratefully. “Did you practice today?”
“I got the crank-light to glow, but it stung me.”
Nate chuckled. It felt good, a tiny release in his chest. “If it stung you, you’re definitely doing something right. I’ll show you how to make it stop doing that later. How’s your ankle?”
“Better. Sparks put your salve on it. It stinks.”
“I think you meanthank you. You should be more careful climbing in here.”
“Reed won’t let me scavenge until I get good.”
Reed will never let you scavenge, if he can help it.“Then get good without hurting yourself.”
She huffed, elbowing him, and he smiled.
“Will you tell me more about Bernice?” Pixel asked, her whisper barely audible.
Nate pushed up one elbow. Her eyes were glittering jewels, watching him closely—excited for a story. She was always listening more than anyone gave her credit for, paying attention—and learning. He liked telling Pixel about his life before joining Reed’s gang. His elderly aunt had been dead for years, but he could remember the feel of her thin skin and the smell of her heady perfume like it had only been days.
“Bernice lived in Gathos City before she lived in the Withers.”
“You told me that part already.”
“Hush and let me tell my story,” Nate said fondly. “Bernice made the trains fast.”
And then they passed her by.
“How?” Pixel asked.
“Because Bernice was a Tinkerer, like you’ll be someday. And she wasn’t only a Tinkerer—she was one of the first. She made me learn the name of every tool in her dusty old apartment. I got stung plenty of times too, touching live wires. I had blisters all over my fingers, and every night she’d rub salve on them to make them feel better.”
“Like for my ankle.”
