“That’s a bird.”
“Then why didn’t you specify it?”
“Do you want me to sing the damn song back to you to prove I’m listening?”
I giggle. “You would do that?”
He glances up at me. “No, but I did hear every word you said, or rather sang,” he says. “I always do. Even when it doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
I swallow, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. He turns back to the medical kit to find a bandage.
“It’s not deep enough to require stitches,” he says. “It’ll heal in a few days.”
He seals it with a bandage and sits back. My blood is on his palms, and I expect him to clean it immediately, but he just runs a frustrated hand through his hair, smearing it across. I’m surprised a neat freak like him would do such a thing.
“Should we find our way back?” I ask.
“What do you have in your pack?” he says.
“Where’s yours?”
“I didn’t anticipate this being an overnight trip.”
“Not very leader-like of you.”
I unzip my bag.
“Don’t strain yourself,” he says, snatching the backup from me. “I’ll see what we have. Flashlights would be great and water.”
Ender rifles through the folds. He brings out a book and stares at the cover.
“When did you plan to readBurning for Youon an active mission?” he asks, flipping the book so I can stare at the shirtless man cradling a woman in a long, red ballgown.
“Mercy says I should read more.” I shrug. “This looked like it’d be my speed.”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, tossing the book aside. “Thathasto be a prohibited text.”
He tugs out a box of tampons and flings it to the side.
“Stop throwing my stuff, Vale,” I admonish.
He plucks out my spare underwear, holding the cotton fabric with his middle finger. It dangles awkwardly from his fingertips. My skin burns as he tucks it into the side pocket of the bag and continues his search.
“What the hell, Warrick?” he barks.
He holds up a box of strawberry-flavored condoms.
“Shit, that must be Spider.” I groan. “It’s a joke. I put my dirty socks in his pack last week.”
Ender tosses it aside with the growing pile.
“Is there anything actually useful in here?” he growls.
He pulls out my spare gun and extra bullets. And then four throwing stars.
At leastthosehe doesn’t scoff at. A crumple sounds, before he drags out a note. Oh no. That can’t be good.
“Fuck Ender Vale.” He reads aloud. “I hope he goes bald and his teeth rot. I hope he dies and his dick falls off.”
