Page 23 of The Monster's Mate

I’m almost sad when dinner’s over and we all clean the kitchen, then watch as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

Samantha laughs, then glances down at her watch. “I’ll need to get going. The parents are returning later. I don’t want them to know I’ve been out, especially since I work tomorrow.”

I understand. Frequently she’ll park in the garage early and make sure the engine is cold like she’s been home all day.

“Thanks for stopping by.” I try to suck it up so the phrase sounds casual, but as always, a pang of regret hits my belly. I wish people didn’t have to sneak around to see me. I wish it didn’t put the ones I love at risk.

“I’m glad we had such a cool visit,” Sam says, wrapping me in her arms and looking at Skiden over my shoulder. “Skiden, pleasure meeting you. You’ll keep in touch? Maybe I’ll see you when you next return?”

He nods. “Of course.”

I’m sad that Samantha has to leave, but elated too. She got to meet Skiden and she likes him. I can tell.

It’s important to me that he met her, the only person I have left in the world. Now he knows who I’m talking about when we’re trading stories tomorrow. We walk her to the front door, as usual, looking around to make sure no one’s out. Skiden stays in the darkness of the house, while I remain blocked by the shade of the covered stoop.

Sam makes her way down the front walk.

“Oh, paper’s delivered,” she says, picking up the rolled bundle and tossing it to me.

She’s trying to behave casually; I’m trying to behave casually, but for a moment I’m so frozen I almost don’t catch it.

I can’t catch it, it’s like a snake waiting to jump at me. But Sam’s looking at me with a knowing look and Skiden is just inside the doors and I have to pretend everything’s normal, that my world doesn’t shatter every time the paper is delivered. Which isn’t often, thank God. It’s not like the old days when it used to come out weekly. No, now the paper is delivered when there’s enough news to fill it. Sometimes every ten days. Sometimes every fourteen. Maybe once a month.

Which means I’m always on edge, waiting for it. But I can’t deal with it today. So, I offer Sam a brittle smile. “Thanks.”

That’s probably why she stopped by today. She’s already had it delivered to her house—the more important locations get first priority—and knew it was coming. She thought she’d wait until it arrived here too, and would be my security blanket as I looked through it, but was surprised by Skiden. And now, she has a false sense of security thinking I’ll read it with him. That I’ll be fine.

But I won’t burden him. He’s leaving tomorrow anyway.

“Everything okay?” Skiden asks.

“Fine,” I babble, dropping the paper onto the side table at the entry way.

He takes both my hands and pulls me to him. “It’s not fine. Something’s happened. What’s going on?”

So observant. But I’m too humiliated to tell him how I feel every time that damn paper arrives. How it’s the buzz around the community for days, how the articles are cut out and put up on religious bulletins like the one I have to pass by on my way to work.

“Nothing is wrong,” I snap. “I’m just sad when Samantha has to leave. She’s the only person in the world who has my back.”

“Not the only,” he says carefully.

Later, I’d probably look back and realize that maybe he was trying to point out that Isabel did. That River cares. Maman.

Him.

But I’m so riled from wondering what I’m going to face, I can’t see past the rolled object, the cheap rubber band barely holding it in place like it taunts me.

“I would do anything for her. Anything.”

He nods his head, trying to be understanding but a little wary, too. “I get it. We all want to keep you safe—both of you safe. Which is why we thought—”

“I know. I can’t join the stupid Match program,” I hiss. “Even if one spot is left.”

An idea comes to me.

Oh, my God.

Sam can be safe.

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