Edilio looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Sam, this isn’t the old days. We have a town council now. They’re supposed to know whatever’s going on.”
“If they know, everyone will know,” Sam said.
Edilio said nothing. He knew it was true.
“You know that girl Orsay?” Sam asked.
“Of course I know her,” Edilio said. “We almost got killed together.”
“Do me a favor and kind of keep an eye on her.”
“What’s up with Orsay?”
Sam shrugged. “She thinks she’s some kind of prophet, I guess.”
“A prophet? You mean like those old dudes in the Bible?”
“She’s acting like she can contact people on the other side. Parents and all.”
“Is it true?” Edilio asked.
“I don’t know, man. I doubt it. I mean, no way, right?”
“Probably should ask Astrid. She knows this kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather wait on that.”
“Hey, hold up, Sam. Are you asking me to not tell her about that, either? You got me hiding two big things from the council?”
“It’s for their own good,” Sam said. “And for everyone’s good.” He took Edilio’s arm and drew him close. In a low voice he said, “Edilio, what kind of experience do Astrid and Albert really have? And John? Not to mention Howard, who we both know is just a jerk. You and me, we’ve been through every fight there’s been since the FAYZ came. I love Astrid, but she’s so into her ideas about how we have to get everything organized that she’s not letting me do what I need to do.”
“Yeah, well, we kind of do need some rules and stuff.”
“Of course we do,” Sam agreed. “We do. But in the meantime, Zil is kicking freaks out of their homes, and someone or something just dug its way up out of the ground. I need to be able to deal with stuff without everyone looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“Man, it isn’t cool to lay this on me,” Edilio said. Sam did not respond. It would be lousy to pressure Edilio any further. Edilio was right: it was wrong to ask this of him.
“I know that,” Sam said. “It’s just…look, it’s temporary. Until the council gets its act together and comes out with all its rules, someone still has to keep things from falling apart. Right?”
Finally Edilio sighed. “Right. Okay, I’ll get us a couple shovels. Fill this in quick before people start coming out.”
Jill was too old for the day care. Sam had known that. But he had dumped her in Mary’s lap, anyway.
Great. Just what Mary needed: one more kid to look after.
But it was hard to say no. Especially to Sam.
Mary cast a weary glance around the day care. What a mess. She’d have to round up Francis and Eliza and some of the others and take another shot at bringing some order to this disaster. Yet again.
She glanced with bitterness at the milky plastic sheet that covered the blown-out wall between the day care and the hardware store. How many times had Mary asked for some help dealing with it? The hardware store had been looted many times and the axes and sledgehammers and blowtorches were mostly gone, but there were still nails and screws and tacks strewn everywhere. Kids had to be watched constantly because they absolutely would crawl under the plastic and end up poking one another with screwdrivers and then crying and fighting and demanding Band-Aids, which had run out long ago and…
Mary took a deep breath. The council had a lot to do. A lot of problems to deal with. Maybe this wasn’t their top priority.
Mary forced a smile for the girl, who watched her solemnly and clutched her doll.
“I’m sorry, sweetie: what’s your name again?”
“Jill.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jill. You can stay here for a while until we work something else out.”
“I want to go home,” Jill said.
Mary wanted to say, Yeah, we all do, honey. We all want to go home. But she had learned that bitterness and irony and sarcasm didn’t really help when dealing with the littles.
“What happened? Why were you out on the streets?” Mary asked.
Jill shrugged. “They said I had to go.”
“Who?”
Jill shrugged again, and Mary gritted her teeth. So sick of being understanding. So deeply, deeply sick of being responsible for every stray child in Perdido Beach.
“Okay, then, do you know why you left your house?”
“They said they would…hurt me, I guess.”
Mary wasn’t sure she wanted to pry any deeper. Perdido Beach was a community in a permanent state of fear and worry and loss. Kids didn’t always behave too well. Older brothers and sisters sometimes lost it when dealing with their siblings.
Mary had seen things…things she would never have believed possible.
“Well, you can stay with us for a while,” Mary said. She gave the girl a hug. “Francis will tell you the rules, okay? He’s that big kid over in the corner.”
Jill turned away reluctantly and took a couple of hesitant steps toward Francis. Then she turned back. “Don’t worry: I won’t sing.”
Mary almost didn’t respond. But something about the way Jill had said it…
“Of course you can sing,” Mary said.
“I better not,” Jill said.
“What’s your favorite song?” Mary asked.