The Cure for Sleeping

Chapter Twelve

By the time the van chugs to a stop at our block, night has fallen. Wind whispers around us, rolling pieces of trash and rubble until they rustle like leaves in a dark forest. A stray cat looks up at the noise and hisses, melting into the shadows. Thea pulls over on the corner instead of outside the church and we clamber out. She leaves the van unlocked and lets the keys swing from the ignition.

I hug the minivan's rusted blue hood, cheek pressed against warm metal. "Thank you, car. I love you."

Thea snorts and slaps her hand on the roof, two thumps like she's patting a tired horse. "She'll be good to us for a while. There's still a three-quarter full tank of gas, and I don't doubt that Josh knows how to siphon from other cars. "

When I stand up, my cheek leaves a smudge of red on the paint like a kiss. "I think we should name her Dorothy."

"Sure, name the van after someone's grandmother. That's a good omen for its life expectancy."

"She's Dot for short."

Thea rolls her eyes. "Fine, let's just get inside. We've been gone long enough that Josh has probably had an aneurysm."

Somehow, I end up carrying the heavy duffel bag, and it slaps against my legs, glass clinking obnoxiously. Thea either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

We walk side beside until a thought strikes me. "Why didn't we drive into the city in the first place?"

The pixie's painted lips twist into a smirk. "I thought that you could use the exercise."

Josh is doing push-ups in the aisle. He's taken off his shirt at some point, a sheen of sweat coating his skin and glistening in the candlelight. Hazel is lying on her stomach on the pew next to him, balancing her chin on a hand as she counts him off, bored. She's the first to see us bang inside and rolls to her feet, not missing a beat in her count. Josh doesn't even stop until he sees her shoes in front of his face, and he glances up in annoyance.

Hazel had reached three hundred and four. His hair is stuck to his face, hanging in front of his eyes. Josh's teeth are straight and white as he grins at us, shaking out his arms. His chest is at eye level to Thea, filling her view.

She hops back, hands up to ward him off. "Ew, sweaty much?

"Don't tell me that your coach has you doing pre-season training." I say, edging inside.

"You know me. Got to be in shape for the next game.

"Coach Graham would be the one to make you work out during the apocalypse. I had her for gym freshman year –she was a monster." Noah is stretched out on the dais. He tucks a notebook away and stands.

"Pshaw, Coach was just determined. She was the one who told me that I had to eat a raw egg every morning if I wanted to bulk up in time for the football season last year." Josh shrugs, "In all fairness, it worked, and we've won the finals every year since she came."

"I think she just intimidated the other teams into throwing the games." Noah says.

"Hey, I'm not saying you're wrong. But it worked."

Noah snorts, and Josh turns back to Thea and I, obviously pleased with himself. His smile falters when he sees the new cuts on my arm that tracing the arch of my earlier wound, and the ash dusting Thea's brow like a circlet. His eyebrows go up as he takes in our party dresses and the heels dangling from Thea's hand.

"Do I even want to know what happened?" he asks.

Thea raises one lace-covered shoulder. Her eyes turned up and innocent but she smiles like the devil. "I don't know. I certainly had a good time." Thea coils a strand of midnight hair around a finger, tilting her head to me. "Didn't you, Avery?"