Something I Don't Know

33: insomniacs travel in packs (reprise)

As much as I wanted her to stay, Midge had to go back to her townhouse to ensure her family was alright. They were, although Mrs. Osborne was a little upset she had to sacrifice her extensive plant collection in order to escape the fire. Okay, so not just a little upset. Midge texted me at about midnight, saying, 911. Mom won't stop crying about her bonsai trees.

It's been at least an hour since then—probably more—and now I lay awake in bed, thinking about bonsai trees. Not so much bonsai trees as the events that led me to think about bonsai trees. Dad finding out I killed his brother. Mom showing up out of literal nowhere. Anik knocking me out and tying to me a chair, the words worst mistake echoing again and again in my head. Then, of course, Safiya and Neha, kickin' ass.

I should be exhausted. I should've been asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, like Violet was, like my mom was, like Jamie probably was. Yet I have been lying here, staring up at the ceiling, for what feels like eternity. The only that's tired are my eyes, from peering mindlessly into the dark.

The fact is, there's still so much to do. The city will need rebuilding—physically, emotionally. There'll be a new mayor, probably more laws to keep this from happening all over again. Worst of all, as soon as this all blows over, my mom will pack her bags and be gone again, I know it. It's just what she does.

I must have been so absorbed in my own head that I didn't hear him, but I do hear the creak of my bedroom doors as he opens it.

"Grey," Jamie says, slowly.

I don't sit up. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

I wait a moment. "C'mere."

His footfalls shuffle lightly across the floor, and a moment later, the bed squeaks as he eases down on it. Only then do I sit up, easing myself up onto my palms with a grunt. Jamie's sitting there in an old sweatshirt (likely mine) and a pair of Spider-Man pajama bottoms, his pale hair delightfully ruffled and his eyes...unusually sad.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, and his eyes shift hesitantly sideways. "Is it about tonight? Because I wasn't going to go out that easy, you know. I'm not that weak."

"No," he says meekly. "That's not it."

Oh, I don't like this.

I don't like the look in his eyes—when he even does look at me—and I don't like the defeated slump to his shoulders and I really don't like this. Something's wrong. I know it.

I ease back against my headboard. "Talk to me, buddy."

He gnaws at his lip for a moment, drawing his legs up underneath him and pivoting to face me. "Vy and I have been talking," he says, pulling at a hole in his sock, "and we think it's time we go look for our mom."

"Oh, Jamie! That's—" I study him for a moment. "That's a good thing. That's a great thing. Why are you not looking at me like this is a good thing? All of us can go together, and we'll bring her home—"

He shakes his head. "That's the problem."

"What's the problem?"

"This is something I have to do alone," Jamie says, his head lowered as if in shame. "Well, not alone. But just—just Vy and me."

Ah, this is why he wasn't looking at me like it's a good thing. Because it's not. Not exactly.

"Jamie..." I shake my head, not sure where to start. "You don't have to leave. Wherever you go, I'll follow you. Don't worry about it, okay? Whatever you're thinking—don't worry about it."

"No, Grey," he says, finally lifting his eyes to me, but like it pains him to do so. He wrinkles the sheets underneath him with his fists, mismatched eyes lambent in the dark. "You have so much here. Midge and your stepmom and your dad and your mom...mom. And River and Safi. I know how much you want to come. I know you want to protect me. But you have things here. And I have things...out there, somewhere."

"Jamie—"

"Stay, please," he says. "Stay. For me."

I want to say no. I should say no. I should tell him he's being ridiculous and that he's being overdramatic and that it's fine, we'll tackle this together, just like we always have.

But I know that's not what he wants.

I know that's not what he needs.

I look him square in the eye, because I'm afraid my expression will betray me if I don't. "This isn't goodbye."

He shakes his head so hard that he ruffles his hair more. "No, of course not," he says. "I'll be back. We'll be back."

Despite myself, I feel a slight grin tugging at one side of my mouth. "Promise?"

He returns it. "Promise."