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out the bleach. Through the gap here. She points at the back of her shirt collar. “Hard to miss.”
My mind races back to the bathroom, to standing bent over, head in the shower while Echo rinsed my hair.
“How long did it take to heal?” she asks, separating chopsticks with a clean snap.
The question’s odd, but then again, everything about Echo is odd. “Overnight. It wasn’t as bad as you’d think. Of course, then there was the next night… And the next…
Echo hums thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving mine as she passes me a container of lo mein.
“Interesting. You had your wrist wrapped when we met, right? And it’s still bruised a few days. later.
I glance down at the ugly purple–green marks circling my wrist where Nora had grabbed me. The bruises have faded slightly, and my wrist still hurts when I use it too much, but it’s healing. “So how does a terrible wound like a whipping heal overnight, Echo continues, twirling noodles around her chopsticks, “when your wrist is still hurting days later?”
The question catches me off guard. I’ve never thought about it before.
“The whips weren’t really that bad,” I offer lamely, picking at my food.
“Bad enough to scar, though.”
I fall silent, staring at the jar of scar cream as I poke at my lo mein.
“Have you had other instances where wounds healed abnormally fast?” Echo’s voice is casual, but her eyes are too sharp. She knows something.
My heart races.
“I don’t think so- I begin, then stop, remembering one. Maybe. The details are hazy. “When I was twelve, my parents died in a home invasion gone wrong.”
The words are rote by now; it’s my story, the one I’ve told several times. A summary of a bleak. time in my life.
Mom and Dad died.
Three days later, Alpha picked me up.
But what happened in those three days? That’s where it gets hazy. I remember being in the hospital, but I don’t remember being hurt.
“Were you hurt? Echo asks, as if she can hear what I’m thinking.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I remember being in the hospital.” For some reason, I’ve always
remembered the hospital, but I remember thinking It was because of my parents
C
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But I have no memory of seeing Mom or Dad in the hospital.
Pain stabs through my head as I work through the timeline, and I shake my head abruptly. Whatever secret is buried there can stay there. Mom’s my mom. Dad’s my dad. Maybe we should just leave it at that. “Never mind.”
“Hmm.” Echo slurps a noodle louder than is necessary, pointing at my container with her chopsticks. “Eat.” The word is clear, even with her mouth full.
I grab my lo mein and make my way to the dinette. The small booth offers the perfect view of the TV, a welcome distraction from the sudden bomb Echo’s thrown my way.
My head continues to ache, even though I stopped prodding at old, awful memories.
Echo slides in across from me, her multicolored hair catching the overhead light. “Aren’t you curious?”
“No.” I shake my head decisively, stabbing at the noodles with my chopsticks. “Not curious at all.
Her mouth quirks up at one corner as she studies me. She reaches across with her chopsticks, fishing through her container until she plucks out a shrimp and places it deliberately on top of my noodles. “Eat more. You’re going to need the energy.”
The comment makes me pause mid–bite. “Why would I need energy?”
Echo’s eyes flicker toward the door. The movement is quick, but I catch it–a flash of alertness, almost like she’s listening for something. “Just a feeling I have.”
I narrow my eyes, lowering my chopsticks. “You know something, don’t you? You’ve been cryptic and weird since we stopped at that truck stop carlier today, even changing our plans and camping here instead of driving longer.”
As I’m talking, Echio leans across the table, snags the shrimp she’d just placed in my container, and shoves it in my mouth.
“Stop being so anxious and just enjoy dinner” She settles back into her seat with a huff. “I’ll apply the scar cream when you’re done eating”
The shrimp is perfectly cooked, tender with just enough spice, but I’m too distracted to appreciate it fully. I chew and swallow before responding.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not in a hurry.”
Echo squints at me, her slitted eyes narrowing further. “It’s probably better for everyone if you just deal with it.”
My laugh is half–snort, half–chuckle. “You’re acting like my scars are somehow a life and death issue.
Echo stares at me for a long time. Long enough for me to take two bites before realizing she’s
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still watching me with a deadpan expression.
When I pause, trying to figure out what I said, she lets out a deep sigh. “It must be nice to be oblivious,” she muses, sounding genuinely envious.
I point my chopsticks at her, my eyebrows jamming together. “That! That’s the cryptic stuff you’ve been doing since earlier.”
“Occupational hazard,” Echo says, as if that’s any sort of explanation at all. “Either eat or take your shirt off.”
I blink at the stark options, then stuff a large bite of noodles into my
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