In a Handful of Dust by Mindy McGinnis

once.
    “Well,” Lynn said, and kicked at a clump of grass, “I guess that’s it then.” She looked up at Stebbs, and Lucy realized Lynn had not said good-bye to anyone.
    “Maybe I’ll see you again someday, asshole,” Lynn said, and shook Stebbs’ hand. He pulled her into a hug and clapped her on the back, careful not to hit her rifle.
    “Maybe, kiddo,” he said, his voice shaky. “Maybe.”
    Lynn pulled away from him, swiping at her tears. “Don’t let anybody move into my house,” she said sternly, and reached for Lucy’s hand.
    They walked to the edge of the grass together and stepped out onto the road.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
Six
    L ucy had a blister.
    The back of her boot had rubbed a raw spot on her heel within the first two days of walking, a water-filled blister forming shortly after. Every step felt like a tiny needle was driving into her foot, but she gritted her teeth against the pain and waited for it to break. She’d have to say something to Lynn once the water filled her sock, but she’d keep her mouth shut until then.
    Lynn had been quiet too; lips still, eyes always moving. It reminded Lucy of the way she’d been when they first met. The tense way she now held herself, the calculated steps, all echoed the girl who had been constantly watching for anyone who would make her their prey.
    When Lucy woke at sunup on the third day, Lynn was already awake. She sat hunched by her pack, the map Stebbs had given her overflowing across her legs, her long hair dragging across the farthest edges when the wind toyed with it.
    “What’re you thinking?” Lucy asked, propping herself up on her elbows.
    “I was just wondering when you were going to tell me your foot was in such a shape,” Lynn said, without looking up.
    “Didn’t want to bother you,” Lucy answered, pulling her naked foot back under the blanket. “It’s not a big deal.”
    “It will be if it gets infected. I don’t like the idea of cutting your foot off and then having to haul your ass to the West Coast.”
    “I don’t think I’d like the cutting-my-foot-off part,” Lucy said. “But anytime you want to carry me is fine.”
    Lynn smiled but still didn’t look up from the map. “We’ll rest a bit today. Let me look at your foot. No arguing,” she added, when Lucy opened her mouth to object.
    Lucy rolled onto her back to watch the sky slowly fading from darkness to a light blue. “What’s the story with the map?”
    “Trying to figure out the best way to do this,” Lynn said. “Other than head west and cross our fingers.”
    “Can we really do much more?”
    “We can look for water along the way and adjust our route to pass close by. Small places, like our pond back home, will be well protected. But there’s a big lake coming up here, Lake Wellesley, and there’s no way every inch of it is covered. We’ll get in, fill our bottles, and get out.”
    Lucy plucked a blade of grass, pinching it between her fingers and blowing on it to make it sing.
    “That’s not annoying or anything,” Lynn said, still bent over the map.
    Lucy tossed a handful of grass, which caught in the breeze and landed in Lynn’s hair.
    Lynn sighed and folded up the map. “All right, what is it?”
    “This Lake Wellesley sounds familiar.”
    “It’s not far from Entargo.”
    Entargo. Lucy let the remaining grass in her palms slide away on the breeze at the name of the city where she had been born. Despite the few happy tendrils of remembrance that Vera had called to mind, Entargo was a faint memory, darkly steeped in her father’s blood. Her parents had been exiled from the city for an illegal second pregnancy.
    “Are we going to see it?”
    “Do you want to?”
    Lucy thought hard before answering. True,