"I only have thirty-two days left to make it there.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“I will lose.”
“Lose what?” he asks.
I avoid the question. I look around the Burrows while we move, studying the metal bars along the ground the best I can. I count the pieces of trash we pass and hum inside my head. I listen for the sound of his boots clomping. But even all the distractions can’t stop the word from coming out.
He doesn’t hear me. The word is barely whispered, inaudible and lost in the echo of darkness.