I give a final jerk, untangling from Lament and tumbling off the bed.
There’s a heavythumpas my back hits the floor. The comforter avalanches down on top of me, pooling over my face. The bed creaks again as Lament (presumably) comes to peer over the bedside. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy.”
He tugs the offending fabric off my head. “You don’t sound peachy.”
I sigh. “I was hoping you’d sayThat’s greatand leave me to my mortification.”
He arches a brow. “I can’t tell if you’re being dramatic or sincere.”
“Can’t I be both?”
“Of course,” Lament replies, in a manner that suggests he’s used to my antics yet still finds them unimpressive. “Come on. I’ll help you up.”
“Why?” I ask, flopping out my arms. “I like it down here. It fits my aesthetic.”
A tentative smile hangs around his mouth. “I take this renewed sense of humor to mean you’re feeling better?”
“I’m lying on the floor after having just accidentally big-spooned my fleetmate during a shock-induced exhaustion nap. How do you think I’m feeling?”
His smile falters. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No, no.” I rise into a sitting position, rub a hand down my face. “You’re right. I’m… I’m notokay, but…” I take a moment to get my bearings. The clock on the nightstand reads nine at night, which means I slept for at least eight hours, and my mouth tastes like paste and my head hurts and…
How am I, exactly?
Shaken. Afraid for the future, both my own and that of the galaxy. But I feel a little less breakable now, a little less alone. I think about how Lament came for me even though I said he didn’t have to, how he must have wanted to be there anyway, how he found me, how quickly he reacted when he saw something was wrong. Vera and Caspen, too.
“I’ll be all right,” I finish. “I mean, this is what I signed up for, right?”
“Keller.” Lament looks like he’s debating saying whatever he’s about to say. “I know you sometimes find it easier to make light of hard things, and if that’s how you want to handle this, that’s how we’ll handle it. But if you want to talk about what you’re really thinking, I’m here for you.”
I stare at him. It’s—there are so many—I’m allfeelings. And he’s right. Iwas going to deflect, but I force myself to swallow and nod and say, “Okay, yeah. Thank—”
The door bursts open.
“We heard movement!” Avi announces, dragging a whiteboard on wheels into Lament’s room. A band of Sixers shuffle in after her: Toph, the Youvu Hums, Illiviamona, Caspen.
I wrestle a weird mix of relieved disappointment. “Movement?”
“Vera said we had to wait until you were awake again to start planning Operation Infiltration,” Avi continues, “and look, you’re awake!” She frowns like she’s only just noticed I’m below eye level. “Why are you on the floor?”
Fair question. “I… sort of fell.”
“Well, sort of un-fall.” Avi spins the whiteboard dramatically, sending itwhooshingin a circle. It clocks Illiviamona in the thigh. She gives a muffledow. “We have work to do.”
“Sorry,” I say, because my brain still hasn’t caught up with the sudden influx of Sixers. “Work to do on what?”
“OninfiltratingThe Parallax,” Avi replies in singsong, with jazz hands.
“Lament told us what happened with Rudy Rivon and your mother,” Toph supplies, claiming Lament’s desk as a seat since the twiddly office chair would likely snap under his weight.
I look at Lament, and he shrugs. “We were texting earlier. After you fell asleep.”
“How are you feeling?” asks a Youvu Hum as the other Youvu Hum says, “This has all been quite the revelation.”
“This is our opening,” Avi belts while drawing haphazard shapes on the whiteboard. “This is our opening.”
