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cold.”
     
     

Chapter Four
     
     
    “You’re not in a gang but you’re trading with someone.” Ryan comments, munching on a carrot.
    We’re working through a bag of vegetables I’ve pulled out that I got from Crazy Crenshaw in exchange for meat. He’s not a hunter, not even close. He’s a gardener. Of all kinds of things. All kinds of plants, if you get my meaning. He’s always trying to trade me certain herbs for the meat I bring him, but I stick to veggies. Ryan was surprised at how large the vegetables are. Apparently Lost Boys are poor gardeners as well and I wonder if it’s not a skill possessed solely by the older generation.
    “Why do you say that?” I ask, averting his eyes.
    I don’t want to talk about Crenshaw. He trades with Lost Boys but I don’t know which ones exactly. I’m not about to go talking about him to someone he might want to avoid.
    He waves his carrot at me, getting my attention. “No way you grew this somewhere in here. Not unless you have a garden on the roof?”
    I shake my head. “There’s nothing on this roof.”
    “I didn’t think so.”
    “So what are you getting at?”
    He shrugs and takes a bite of the carrot. “Nothing. Just making an observation.”
    “It feels more like an invasion.”
    “Or a conversation.” he says with a grin.
    I roll my eyes and take a sip of water from my canister, washing down the dry, cold broccoli I’ve been working on. And it is work. Unfulfilling yet nourishing work.
    “Does your gang trade in the markets?” I ask, changing the subject and offering him the canister.
    He takes a sip from it as well, his mouth on the cool metal almost exactly where mine was, and I blush yet again. I’m setting a record or making up for lost time. It’s embarrassing either way. I don’t like things I can’t control.
    “You’ve been to the markets?” he asks, sounding surprised.
    I shake my head firmly, chuckling slightly at the idea of me showing up there. “No, never. But I’ve seen them happening. They’re hard to miss.”
    “Seeing all of us rounded up like that, it must be your worst nightmare.”
    “Crawlers.”
    “What about crawlers?”
    “Crawlers are my worst nightmare.”
    He nods his head, thinking about that. “That’s a legitimate fear.”
    “What’s yours?”
    “What’s my worst fear?”
    “Yeah. You know mine. Now you owe me yours.”
    He laughs and leans back on his palms, looking relaxed. “No way.”
    “It’s part of the deal. Spill it.”
    “I made no such deal. You really haven’t been to the markets. You would know that you don’t give up anything without knowing exactly what you’re going to get in return.” He grins at me crookedly. “And you’re gettin’ nothin’.”
    I shake my head in disgust. “I hate people.”
    “I hear ya.”
    I study him for a moment, unsure if I want to tread on sacred ground. In the end, curiosity wins out over etiquette.
    “Do you like the people in your gang?” I ask quietly.
    He stares at me for a long time and I worry I shouldn’t have asked. It’s a delicate thing to talk about. I don’t want to know the name of his gang or their location, basically any identifying information whatsoever. He owes it to his crew to keep them and their location a secret and it’s important to me that he never think of me as a liability. As a mouth that needs silencing. I’m just about to tell him to forget it when he shrugs.
    “I guess. Not all of them all of the time, but for the most part, yeah. I wouldn’t stick with them if I didn’t like them.” He sits forward again and studies the pattern on the now empty veggie bag. It has a pink Hello Kitty on it. Don’t judge, I have my reasons for keeping it. “I think I stayed with them for as long as I did because of my brother. He likes… liked this group of guys. I got offers to join larger gangs. To live bigger and better, but I always stayed because of Kev.”
    I don’t want to talk about his brother. I know that