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feels left out,” Momma Oaks whispered.
    “… no point. It doesn’t pertain to her.”
    With determination, I closed my ears and stacked the clean dishes in the cupboard, then strode into the doorway. “May I take a light upstairs?”
    “Do you have homework?” Edmund asked.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then by all means.” Momma Oaks got the lamp from the far table and offered it to me. “Careful. Don’t knock it over and don’t burn yourself.”
    “We had torches,” I told her, in case she thought fire was new to me. If they protected their young like this all over in Salvation, it was a wonder the brats could find the schoolhouse on their own. “I’ll be fine.”
    Edmund nodded. “Good night, Deuce.”
    I ran up the stairs, the lamp casting crazy shadows along the walls. In my room, I buckled down and copied the passage that Mrs. James had assigned. Then I was supposed to write a page about what I’d just read. That took far longer, so I skipped to sums, which I found easier than reading. This was a useful skill, since it could be applied to inventorying supplies. That finished, I went back to my stupid essay and rambled about what the words meant. The teacher wouldn’t like it, and she’d probably read my paper aloud to point out all the mistakes.
    I’d survived worse. The brats could mock me. Women could whisper. There would be bad memories, more nightmares, and the threat of Freaks outside the walls. I’d endure, no matter what.
    Once I felt sure my foster parents were asleep, I dressed in dark clothes and slipped out the window. No bells tonight, but I needed to talk to Longshot. He’d be guarding the wall in his usual spot. I clung to the shadows, pausing twice to avoid detection, and then I clambered up the ladder. The moon shone on his white hair, so I recognized him straightaway. He cradled Old Girl in his arms; on my arrival, he didn’t shift from his study of the darkness.
    “Don’t you ever sleep, girl?” His gruff tone concealed gentle humor.
    “Sometimes,” I said.
    “Aren’t you bored of plaguing me yet?” He leaned down to rub his knee in an absent way, as if he’d long since gotten used to the ache.
    “I have some questions.”
    “No end to ’em, apparently.”
    “Don’t you have anybody at home to miss you?” That wasn’t what I meant to ask. It just slipped out. But he was always, always , on this wall, guarding Salvation.
    “Not anymore,” he said quietly. “What is it you want, Deuce?”
    I squared my shoulders. “I want to be included in the summer patrols. I’ll fight to prove myself in front of the other guards, but I wouldn’t embarrass you by bringing it up with no warning. If you’re dead set against it, I won’t—”
    Longshot held up a hand to silence me. “It’s good of you to consider my pride, but if you win their respect, I’ll take you on. But you better put on a good show, girl.”
    “I will,” I promised. “When should I make my request official?”
    “We’ll be planting in a couple of weeks. Come then.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Don’t thank me. This will ruffle feathers something fierce.”
    “If you came up someplace where men cooked the food, and then you went somewhere else, and they wouldn’t let you fix supper, even though it was all you were good at, would you give up your skillet?”
    He smiled at me and touched two fingers to his brow. “I reckon I would not.”
    For a while we stood watch together in silence. This was my favorite part of the evening because, to Longshot, I wasn’t wrong or strange or in the way. With him it was all right to be a girl who didn’t fit.
    “When do you usually go on the trade runs?” I asked eventually.
    “In the fall, after the harvest comes in. I’m back ’fore the snow sets.”
    I remembered how capable he seemed when he rescued us, loading everyone into his wagon along with the supplies. He’d never doubted, never hesitated. And he’d saved us all. If the opportunity arose, I’d pay him