Page 18 of Five Survive

“That’s quite a name,” he laughed.

“Isn’t it?”

“Very serious.”

“Well, he was,” Red said. “He was a police captain.”

A pause.

“Like your mom?”

The word punched through Red’s chest, a hole left behind, air bleeding around it. She slowed to catch her breath. Yes, like her mom. Grace Kenny, captain of the Philadelphia Police Department, Third District. She didn’t know Arthur knew about all that.

Arthur drew to a stop, catching her arm, the RV twenty feet ahead of them.

“You know, early on, Maddy pulled me aside and told me to never ask you about your mom,” he said. “Or to even mention moms in general in front of you. And if that’s what you want, then that’s fine, but if you can’t talk to your best friend about her, I was wondering, maybe, whether you wanted someone else to talk to about her. And I could do that sometime. If you want.”

No. She didn’t want. She could not speak of her, would not think of her. Arthur hadn’t known Red in the before time, he was new, he wasn’t supposed to know about her mom. Maybe that was what Red liked most about him, that he was untainted by knowing. Except he did know, Maddy had told him. Did that change everything? Was that why he was always nice to her, why he softened his voice? She looked down. That was enough. Red refused to think about Arthur knowing, pitying her, or about Mom. Push it away, out of her head, skip to the next thought. Gone.

“What are you doing when we finish senior year?” she asked, a question she never asked because she hated when people asked her, and Arthur bristled at the brush-off, dropping his eyes. “You going to college?”

“Um, no, actually,” he said, recovering. “No, for me it’s straight to joining the family business.” He grimaced. What was the family business—kicking puppies?

“Which is?” she asked.

“Flipping houses, essentially. But I’ll be in the office.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“No,” he agreed. “Except it means I’ll spend all day every day inside.”

“Ah, the ol’ claustrophobia,” she said.

He raised a finger. “Exactly.”

Red sniffed. “What, did you get locked inside a closet as a kid, or something?”

It was a joke, but Arthur didn’t smile. His eyes hardened on the road, shoulders hitched up to his ears.

“Yeah,” he said, flatly. “Just a prank but…my brother sometimes takes things too far.”

Well, shit. Now it was clearly Red’s turn to put her foot in it. Arthur’seyes were still clouded, an awkward twist in his mouth. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about his brother, just as much as Red didn’t want to talk about her mom. She made a silent deal with him; he agreed, even if he didn’t know about it. There were more important things to think about tonight, anyway. Now she just had to change the subject, quick, distract them both.

“Need to get yourself an outside job, then,” she said. “Dog-walker?”

Arthur shook the expression out of his face, recovering as he turned to her.

“Farmer?” he countered.

“Nature conservationist?” she said.

“Ooh, nice.”

Red had another one: “Axe-murderer?” she said.

“I hear that’s taken.”

Red had almost forgotten what it was they were listing, and why, but before she could say her next one, a sound erupted across the wide clearing. Clapping. Cheering. Another loud whoop from Simon.