days, people had donated to food drives. But she was quite thin, which was not an adjective normally applied to Mary. Model thin.
Lana Arwen Lazar slumped in a back row. She looked tired and a little resentful. Lana often looked resentful. But at least she had come, which was more than could be said for most kids.
Sam gritted his teeth, angry that so many had skipped this town meeting. Just what exactly did they have to do that was more important?
“First off,” he said, “I want to say I’m sorry about E.Z. He was a good kid. He didn’t deserve…” For a moment healmost lost it as a surge of emotion welled up from nowhere. “I’m sorry he died.”
Someone sobbed loudly.
“Look, I’m going to get right to it: we have three hundred and thirty-two…I’m sorry, three hundred and thirty-one mouths to feed,” Sam said. He placed his hands on his hips and planted his feet wide apart. “We were already pretty bad off for food supplies. But after the attack by the Coates kids…well, it’s not pretty bad off, anymore, it’s desperate.”
He let that sink in. But how much were six-and eight-year-olds really grasping? Even the older kids looked more glazed than alarmed.
“Three hundred and thirty-one kids,” Sam reiterated, “And food for maybe a week. That’s not a long time. It’s not a lot of food. And as you all know, the food we have is awful.”
That got a response from the audience. The younger kids produced a chorus of gagging and retching sounds.
“All right,” Sam snapped. “Knock it off. The point is, things are really desperate.”
“How about the food in everyone’s house?” someone yelled.
The light of the setting sun streamed through the damaged façade of the church and stabbed Sam in the eyes. He had to take two steps to the left to escape it. “Hunter? Is that you?”
Hunter Lefkowitz was a year younger than Sam, longhaired like just about everyone except the few who had taken the initiative of cutting his or her own hair. He was not someone who had ever been popular in school before the FAYZ. But then, Sam reflected, the things that had made kids popular inthe old days didn’t mean much anymore.
Hunter had begun developing powers. Sam was trying to keep that fact secret—he suspected that Caine was sending spies into Perdido Beach. He wanted to be able to use Hunter as a secret weapon if it came to another fight with Caine’s people. But secrets were tough to keep in a place where everyone knew everyone else.
“Hunter, we’ve searched all of the homes and carried the food to Ralph’s,” Sam continued. “The problem is that all the fruit and veggies spoiled while we were all filling up on chips and cookies. The meat all rotted. People were stupid and careless, and there’s nothing we can do about that now.” Sam swallowed the bitterness he felt, the anger he felt at his own foolishness. “But we have food sitting out in the fields. Maybe not the food we’d like, but enough to carry us for months—many months—if we bring it in before it rots and the birds eat it.”
“Maybe we’ll get rescued, and we won’t have to worry,” another voice said.
“Maybe we’ll learn to live on air,” Astrid muttered under her breath but loudly enough to be heard by at least a few.
“Why don’t you go get our food back from Drake and the chuds up there?”
It was Zil. He accepted a congratulatory slap on the back from a creepy kid named Antoine, part of Zil’s little posse.
“Because it would mean getting some kids killed,” Sam said bluntly. “We’d be lucky to rescue any of the food, and we’d end up digging more graves in the plaza. And it wouldn’t solve our problem, anyway.”
“Get your moofs to go fight their moofs,” Zil said.
Sam had heard the term “moof” more and more lately. “Chud” was a newer term. Each new term seemed just a little more derogatory than the one it replaced.
“Sit down, Zil,” Sam went on. “We have twenty-six kids who
Lana Arwen Lazar slumped in a back row. She looked tired and a little resentful. Lana often looked resentful. But at least she had come, which was more than could be said for most kids.
Sam gritted his teeth, angry that so many had skipped this town meeting. Just what exactly did they have to do that was more important?
“First off,” he said, “I want to say I’m sorry about E.Z. He was a good kid. He didn’t deserve…” For a moment healmost lost it as a surge of emotion welled up from nowhere. “I’m sorry he died.”
Someone sobbed loudly.
“Look, I’m going to get right to it: we have three hundred and thirty-two…I’m sorry, three hundred and thirty-one mouths to feed,” Sam said. He placed his hands on his hips and planted his feet wide apart. “We were already pretty bad off for food supplies. But after the attack by the Coates kids…well, it’s not pretty bad off, anymore, it’s desperate.”
He let that sink in. But how much were six-and eight-year-olds really grasping? Even the older kids looked more glazed than alarmed.
“Three hundred and thirty-one kids,” Sam reiterated, “And food for maybe a week. That’s not a long time. It’s not a lot of food. And as you all know, the food we have is awful.”
That got a response from the audience. The younger kids produced a chorus of gagging and retching sounds.
“All right,” Sam snapped. “Knock it off. The point is, things are really desperate.”
“How about the food in everyone’s house?” someone yelled.
The light of the setting sun streamed through the damaged façade of the church and stabbed Sam in the eyes. He had to take two steps to the left to escape it. “Hunter? Is that you?”
Hunter Lefkowitz was a year younger than Sam, longhaired like just about everyone except the few who had taken the initiative of cutting his or her own hair. He was not someone who had ever been popular in school before the FAYZ. But then, Sam reflected, the things that had made kids popular inthe old days didn’t mean much anymore.
Hunter had begun developing powers. Sam was trying to keep that fact secret—he suspected that Caine was sending spies into Perdido Beach. He wanted to be able to use Hunter as a secret weapon if it came to another fight with Caine’s people. But secrets were tough to keep in a place where everyone knew everyone else.
“Hunter, we’ve searched all of the homes and carried the food to Ralph’s,” Sam continued. “The problem is that all the fruit and veggies spoiled while we were all filling up on chips and cookies. The meat all rotted. People were stupid and careless, and there’s nothing we can do about that now.” Sam swallowed the bitterness he felt, the anger he felt at his own foolishness. “But we have food sitting out in the fields. Maybe not the food we’d like, but enough to carry us for months—many months—if we bring it in before it rots and the birds eat it.”
“Maybe we’ll get rescued, and we won’t have to worry,” another voice said.
“Maybe we’ll learn to live on air,” Astrid muttered under her breath but loudly enough to be heard by at least a few.
“Why don’t you go get our food back from Drake and the chuds up there?”
It was Zil. He accepted a congratulatory slap on the back from a creepy kid named Antoine, part of Zil’s little posse.
“Because it would mean getting some kids killed,” Sam said bluntly. “We’d be lucky to rescue any of the food, and we’d end up digging more graves in the plaza. And it wouldn’t solve our problem, anyway.”
“Get your moofs to go fight their moofs,” Zil said.
Sam had heard the term “moof” more and more lately. “Chud” was a newer term. Each new term seemed just a little more derogatory than the one it replaced.
“Sit down, Zil,” Sam went on. “We have twenty-six kids who
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