“Kevin,” said Kevin, whose eyes had gone big and round under the stress of pledging, so they had to coach him until he said, “I swear.”
“I swear, as boss,” said Hot Sauce. They let one another go. Then she said, “Okay. Go home.”
They hauled their packs up on their shoulders and on their backs and Nona and Hot Sauce walked them downstairs. There they got a massive surprise; Honesty said, “Born!” and buzzed the door—the door opened—and there was Born in the Morning, sulky with embarrassment, having been squatting down in front of the doorway and dusting himself off. They crowded around him, asking questions—
“Why weren’t you in school?”
“How’d you come now?”
“Why didn’t you hit the ringer?”
“Didn’t work,” said Born in the Morning, going quite red. “Anyway, I didn’t really come, I just came to see you. I slipped out.”
Hot Sauce said, “Your dads joined up?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s fine,” said Hot Sauce.
So they had to pledge all over again, with Beautiful Ruby loading Born in the Morning up with packages and Born in the Morning not even getting on his high horse and simply being pleased. When they pledged, Beautiful Ruby, being silly, said, “Kevin,” instead of “I swear,” so that they all fell around laughing. They all said, “Kevin,” until Kevin said, injured, “Don’t make fun of Kevin,” so they all fell around laughing again.
That meant they were all happy when they saw Honesty and the others off, not scared or worried. Beautiful Ruby went off with Born in the Morning specially, one of his arms slung familiarly around Born’s neck, both of them talking quietly. The door wouldn’t lock properly, so Nona and Hot Sauce put a chair in front of it, and Nona slipped her hand into Hot Sauce’s as they went back up the stairs, in an uplifted frame of mind.
“I’m glad Born in the Morning showed up.”
“We might not see him for a while,” said Hot Sauce. “Edenites go through people like water.”
This spoiled all of Nona’s joy.
“You don’t think he’ll die, Hot Sauce.”
“No. I mean we have to wait for his dads to die,” said Hot Sauce philosophically. “He’ll only come to us when most of his fathers are dead. Then we can have him … His dads are baggage.”
18
WHEN THEY GOT BACK up to the classroom, Camilla had emerged from her corner and made herself useful unplugging all the electrical equipment and stacking chairs. The Angel was writing something on the board. “I’m doing inventory,” she said, to Nona’s question. “If we get looted I don’t want them ruining all the kids’ things trying to find stuff. Hot Sauce, can you go down the hallway and turn off the generator? I know you know how, but don’t forget to bleed it afterward.”
Nona went to go with Hot Sauce, as she had a lively interest in what bleeding the generator would involve, but the Angel said, “Nona, stay a moment.”
She had a piece of paper in her hand. When Hot Sauce had closed the door through to the classroom, Nona and Camilla both approached her. Camilla did something a little strange then: she tripped. She pitched forward on a raised bit of the carpet and stumbled into the Angel, tried to right herself with her hands on the Angel’s hips and front, and stumbled upward, saying “Sorry—sorry,” glancing out the window like she was embarrassed. Then she turned her head back and looked more normally Camilla, standing as gracefully as though she could never even think about tripping.
The Angel said, “It’s really been that kind of day, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Camilla.
The Angel was fidgeting with the piece of paper. She said, “May I ask Nona a question?”
“She doesn’t have to answer,” said Camilla.
“Of course not,” said the Angel.
Nona, who thought she could speak for herself, said—“I’ll try, but if you want to test me about the map I don’t think I’ll be much good. I want to take it home and look at it there.”
The Angel showed her the piece of paper. It was her drawing again. Maybe the Angel really liked it. Nona was ready to be magnanimous if the Angel wanted to keep it. She guessed she could draw it again at home if she wanted, and she hadn’t even really tried very hard.
The Angel said, “How did you draw this?”
This question bewildered Nona so much that at first she didn’t know what to say. The Angel slid a sheet of paper in front of her—she recognised the scribbles she was doing, with most of her mind elsewhere, right before she and Hot Sauce had escaped to go to the broadcast—and she said, puzzled to death: “With my hand?”