“You’ve cut your hair,” he said.
“Camilla did it.”
“It makes you look mean as.”
“I know,” Nona sorrowed.
“It’ll grow back—maybe,” said Honesty cautiously. “If you can push a bullet out your head your hair’s probably okay. What do you want, anyway?”
“It’s—it’s the Convoy,” she said, wringing her hands. “I need to know where you saw them. What street you went down, when you went on that job with the Convoy. Honesty”—for he had tried to shut the door on her—“Honesty, this is a matter of life.”
The chain rattled and the door hesitated.
“You’re s’posed to say ‘and death,’” he supplied.
“I have started to not believe in the other one,” said Nona. “It’s stupid saying ‘and death’ when most of the people who die get up and walk around again. Maybe if I said ‘a matter of life and double death.’”
Honesty said, “How about, ‘Life and death where you don’t come back’？”
“That’s so long,” said Nona. “Honesty—please tell me the name of the street and I’ll go away—I’ll go away forever, I think. And I want you to know that if I go away forever, and you go into the Building and someone lets you into my room, I want you to have all the coins in my ceramic fish, and if you check at school they keep my old wiping rag in the desk.”
Honesty said, “What the hell would I want with your ole wiping rag?”
“Sometimes they put drops of turpentine on it, and you might be able to sell it to get someone high,” said Nona pitifully.
The door closed in her face. Nona felt like a failure. But before she could try again—stave the door in with a good solid shove, hoping that she wouldn’t wimp out at the last moment—it opened again.
It wasn’t Honesty. It was Hot Sauce.
Honesty was right there behind her shoulder, saying mulishly, “I don’t care—I don’t care. She’s always gonna be my friend, boss. I won’t ditch a girl like that, a girl who thinks of my business like that. I’d go into business with a girl like that, boss, okay?” but Nona had no eyes for him.
Nona stood on the threadbare, filthy carpet and looked at Hot Sauce, and Hot Sauce looked at her; her heart trembled in her throat.
“Come in. Sit down,” said Hot Sauce.
Nona sat down on one of Honesty’s chairs, which consisted of a big square of cardboard on the floor. Hot Sauce sat on another. Nona drew her knees up to her chest and said, “I can’t stay, so please don’t shoot me, because it’ll take up time.”
“Don’t shoot her anyway,” said Honesty, “bullets is expensive.”
Hot Sauce ignored him, and said—
“Are you going away?”
“Yes,” said Nona. “So are the other necromancers—zombies. I guess there won’t be any more here for a while.”
“There’ll always be more necromancers.”
“I suppose, eventually,” said Nona, feeling wet and depressed.
Honesty had spread the map that had hung in the classroom out on his sleeping bag. “Nicked it,” he said, to Nona’s quizzical glance. He was following something with his finger. He said, “Gimme a moment.” Then he said, “There, ’cause that’s the alley where the winos were, it’s the only one that ends in the triangle.”
Hot Sauce said, without looking—
“Write it down, idiot.”
“You know Nona can’t do written stuff, boss.”
“It’s not for her.”
“Fine. I’ll print,” he added generously. “My joined-up writing’s too sophisticated to read.”
Hot Sauce and Nona were left together. Nona kept stealing glances at Hot Sauce—at her closed-off, silent face, with its ridges like strange waves on the sea. Hot Sauce met her gaze levelly, and Nona said—
“Will you tell Born in the Morning and Beautiful Ruby and Kevin I love them? You don’t have to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ but think about it, please. And will you tell the nice lady teacher I’m sorry that I had to leave work, but at least I didn’t die at the water treatment plant, and if they get a new Teacher’s Aide they have to be specially nice to the tinies? It’s not their fault they’re small.”
Hot Sauce said, “The Angel?”
Nona swallowed. “The Angel’s important, Hot Sauce.”