I noted her spontaneous smile when she told me about feeding the birds even though it’s against the rules of the apartment association. It seems the rooftop is her domain and she does as she pleases there. A fat white pigeon that she’s named Rufus is her favorite. There’s still tension between us, distance that she’s clearly maintaining—and yet she still comes. And every night as we part she asks again if I might have a hard time sleeping the next night. And every night my answer is the same. Yes.

I throw on some clothes and grab my pack. I’ve stayed put in the apartment during the daytime for as long as I can. I need to get out and I head for Quincy Market, walking at a brisk pace like something inside of me is stuck in high gear. I wonder how Raine fills her days? Will I ever see her in the light of day?

I walk through the shops taking samples that are offered, mindful of not using my money card. It’s Miesha’s money and I’d like to give it back to her if I can. Free samples are scarce today so I finally splurge and buy a sandwich, an old-fashioned Italian sub. It tastes almost like the ones my mom used to bring home from the deli at her market, loaded with peperoncini.

With the first bite, a wave of homesickness hits me, even though technically, I am home, and in practically the same moment, I think about the disposable phone tabs I saw at the checkout. Three on a card, each good for twenty minutes. Carver may have said no phone contact, but what harm would a disposable phone tab do? No one would know and I would throw it away right after I used it. I eat my sandwich, thinking about Jenna, Miesha, Allys, and Kayla, the closest people I have to family now, and after my last bite, I walk back to the counter and buy the phone tabs. I walk outside looking for a private place to talk and spot a dark, quiet service entrance for a gelato shop.

“Hello? Jenna?”

“Locke?” In one word, I can tell she’s surprised to hear from me. “Miesha said you wouldn’t be able to contact us.”

Hearing her voice makes the knot in my throat twist tighter. “Yeah, so I need to keep this short, but I had to call.”

“Are you all right?”

I lean against the brick wall staring down at my boots. It’s only been a short time since I saw her, since she kissed my cheek at the train station, but it already seems like a lifetime ago. “I’m fine.”

“Locke, what is it? Something isn’t right. I can hear it in—”

“No. I promise you everything’s okay.”

“But?” She won’t let it go. I should have known I couldn’t hide anything from Jenna.

“But the Favor turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected. It’s going to take a lot longer than I thought.”

“Things that matter usually do.”

“I know, I know, you told me, change doesn’t happen overnight,” I parrot back to her, “but … there’s more to it than that.”

She’s silent waiting for me to continue. There’s no video on these cheap phone tabs, but I can imagine her biting her lip, holding her breath.

“You have to promise you won’t tell Miesha.”

“You know I won’t.”

I tell her the rumors about Karden, the Secretary who is possibly holding him, the eighty billion duros, and the Secretary’s daughter who is my in to get me closer to him and his hidden information—if there really is any to be had.

“The Network doesn’t jump on things like this without reason,” she answers. “Karden was a good man, one of the bravest, most determined people I ever knew. If after all this time, he’s alive—”

“But he might not be. That’s why you can’t whisper a word of this to Miesha.”

“Of course. What about Miesha’s baby? Do they know what happened to her?”

The baby? We never talked about her and I never asked. “There was no mention of a baby. I assume she died in the fire.”

Jenna sighs. I know she’s become very fond of Miesha. And having her own daughter—and almost losing her—probably makes her understand Miesha’s pain in ways that I can never begin to. A flash of shame hits me that I never even asked about something that would be so important to Miesha. It’s times like this that I hate the divide that time has created between us. Jenna’s a mother. A woman. Our last conversations echo in my head. I may look like the Jenna you knew so long ago, but I’m lifetimes from that girl.… Tell me, Locke! What are you? A boy? A man? Something else?… You need to find out.

My fingers curl into my palm. A fist. I want to erase the years and events with one quick blow.

Jenna gives me quick updates on Miesha’s progress—still walking with a cane but much more stable. The daily exercises to strengthen her damaged muscles are helping. The herb garden I built is flourishing, and Kayla misses me. And finally she asks if there’s something she can do to help.

“Not without getting me into deep trouble with Carver. I wasn’t supposed to call you. He’s afraid the Secretary might track my calls once I’m on his radar.”

“How could he do that? It’s quite illegal and he’s—”

“Keeping secret prisoners is illegal. If he’s doing one, the other isn’t much of a reach. That’s why I’m talking to you on a disposable.”

We hear the one-minute warning beep on the phone tab and our words become hurried overlapping last reminders.

Say hi to Miesha and Allys. Bone too.