Atomic: Rebooted

58. Tragedies

MIRA

I was shaking beneath Claire's bed, I realized when I saw my own hands trembling in front of me. That was close—too close. I'd had to trust Claire and Tristan, because Henry did and because we were indeed all in this together.

But I had to be smarter than I'd been. If I wanted to evade Atomic Energy, I couldn't keep relying on others to shield me from them. Who knew what Claire's father would do if he knew I was here, after all?

I wouldn't blame him for cracking in the face of Atomic. Energy. Especially now that the whole city knew what they were capable of.

I wondered what Lora thought about all of this. I squirmed, thinking of her worrying about where I was, why I wasn't with the Reagans.

I glanced at the dressing screen where Henry was still hiding. His parents had to be out of their minds with worry. I'd caused him to get in trouble again.

My stomach sank.

That was all I brought for him. More trouble, more scrutiny.

Why he hadn't tried to leave me behind yet, I didn't know. I wouldn't blame him, not at this point.

That did it. When I got back to the Reagans, I would take my stuff and leave, arrangements with Lora or no. Henry needed me out of his life, and as soon as possible.

I heard footsteps coming from the hallway beneath us. I braced myself. Maybe it was Claire returning.

Or it could just as easily be someone else. Someone who wasn't supposed to know about us.

I waited, every muscle tense as I prepared myself to fight or run.

The door flew wide open. Claire stood in the threshold, breathless.

"They know you're here," she declared. "Tristan, your mom's here."

He paled visibly as I reluctantly crawled out from under her bed and Henry emerged from behind the dressing screen.

"I guess they don't know about you guys," Claire admitted, looking at me and Henry. "But I think you should still come down anyway."

I shook my head. "It's not a good idea, not with—"

"It's alright, Mira." Henry took my hand. "I know Mr. Browning—he's a good person. So is Mrs. Turner—"

Tristan shook his head. "She's Mrs. Lee now."

"Oh." Henry blinked. "That's right, I forgot. . . "

"It doesn't matter, they won't turn you in—or any of us." Claire surveyed us. "At least, I don't think they will."

I hesitated.

Another leap of faith. More witnesses to me. More people who I was roping into helping me.

And yet. . .

Their earnest faces convinced me. I didn't want to be alone. It was selfish of me, to want the help, to want these connections.

I was just going to have to get used to being a little more selfish.

"Alright."

We descended the main staircase where the adults were waiting, most of whom I'd never seen before.

On the couch was a young man in his early twenties, wearing with a loose sarcastic slogan t-shirt with sweatpants from Kingsbury College with the same eyes as Claire's stepmother watching us with what I discerned was a guarded suspicion.

Standing around the door and staircase were Ms. Browning-Ward, and a man I realized had to be her father. He wore large glasses and a business-casual style of clothing that was often required in the tech companies downtown.