Life slowly falls into a routine. I wake up early and work out with Riddick before school. I go to school. I come home and work out some more. I do homework. Imam and I read and pray, and then I go to bed. It's the same every day—except for weekends—and it's weird. It's weird always having food, every night, and not having to worry about it. It's weird always being clean. It's weird having someone care about my day and asking me about it and then telling me about theirs. And I have not one but two people who care about me. Some days, I can hardly believe how lucky I've gotten. Other days, I remind myself that nothing lasts.

But as days drag on, it's hard not to grow complacent.

On my birthday, Imam gives me an old edition of Les Miserables that must have cost a fortune, and tickets to a local production of the play.

It's perfect.

Riddick gives me a dagger. It fits into my palm like it's made for me. It's so perfectly balanced, I can twirl it on one finger. It's black with a smooth edge. It's wickedly sharp and can do a lot of damage. He promises he'll start training me to use it as soon as I've perfected my fighting form.

It's perfect.

Some days, my head spins with the amount of stuff they expect us to learn in school. Math and science and history. Poetry and grammar and how to write an essay and how to analyze a character's motivation. I don't get why we have to learn half of it. When, exactly, in life am I going to need to know how to correctly describe the theme of a poem and identify if it's written in iambic pentameter or dactylic hexameter? But Imam says that it's important, and I don't want to disappoint him, so I do my best. I learn to take notes, and I learn to study, something that I've never done before. I stay up late into the night, reading and cramming information into my head. I walk to school with my nose in my notes, memorizing fact after fact. Some days, I stay after school with Alex, and we cram in the library, trying to catch me up.

"This is impossible!" I say one day, slamming my computer shut. We've been working on the same math problem for two hours now, and it's just becoming more and more tangled. I can't figure out how I'm supposed to start, and it seems like Alex is speaking another language. My head is starting to hurt. I just want to go home and hit the bag for a few hours, but I've already gotten on C on a quiz, and Imam says he won't accept anything less than a B.

"It's not impossible," Alex says. "But we need a break." He closes his computer, too. "What should we do?"

I rub my temples and then press the heels of my hands against my eyes. "I don't even know how to answer that question."

He snorts. "I'm asking what you do for fun, dummy, not the secret of the universe."

I look at him and shake my head.

"What? You don't have fun?"

"My idea of fun probably isn't the same as yours."

"Why not?"

I sigh and sit back in my chair. "Mostly what I do for fun these days is work out."

"What, like lifting weights?" He eyes my forearms, which are exposed since I've rolled up my sleeves and pushed them up to my elbows. "You are kind of cut."

I pull my sleeves down a little bit. "I mean, yeah, I lift weights. But I also fight with … my uncle."

"The imam?"

"No. He's more like… I mean, he's not my father, but he's kind of standing in for my father. And my uncle lives with us, too. And we work out together. He's teaching me how to fight."

Alex nods. He twirls a pencil in his fingers. "What's your story, anyway? What happened to your family? Why are you living with an imam? How did you end up here?"

I swallow and open my computer back up. "We should…"

"Come on, Jack." He leans forward and looks up at me, eyes wide and innocent. "Please?"

I shake my head, looking back at him. He's the same age as me, but he's… older and younger at the same time. Older because he knows all about sex and relationships. And he's got a vast knowledge of popular culture that I've missed out on. Younger, because our life experience is so different. He's never worried about going hungry. Never had someone come into their room uninvited. Never had to go weeks without a bath and been covered with lice and bitten by bedbugs. He has no idea what he's asking.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say. I look away from him. "Where I come from… it's not pretty. It's not some fairy tale. It's dark and dirty, and I'm trying to forget. It's got to be enough to say that I found my family and… and they're all that matters. All that matters, is now. The past, where I came from, what I've done, what was done to me… It doesn't matter."

"What was done to you?" Alex frowns. "What happened to you?"

Annoyed, I stand up and gather my books. "It's not a story for children, Alex. I'd probably get in trouble for telling you, anyway."

"Jack, wait, I'm sorry."

"I gotta go." Shoving everything into my backpack, I run out of the library. I don't stop until I'm home.

I don't know how he always knows I'm on my way home, but Imam somehow manages to have tea waiting for me every single day, no matter what time I get there. Today, he takes one look at my face and gestures for me to sit.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." I take a long drink of tea. The warmth and sweetness of the honey rushes through me, causing the tight knot that's formed in my stomach to relax. "Just Alex asking about my past." I grab a cookie from the plate on the table and munch on it. "What am I supposed to say, anyway? About any of it."

"As long as you don't mention Riddick, I suppose you can say whatever you want."

"He'll think I'm a freak. That I'm disgusting and dirty."

"I thought Alex was your friend."

I roll my eyes. "I mean, yeah, but… he wouldn't understand. And I don't want him to know."

"Then you don't have to tell him anything. You don't owe anyone your past. It's your story to tell or keep as you like." Imam takes a cookie and turns it over in his fingers. "But, just because his experience is different, doesn't mean he won't understand. People can surprise you."

"Maybe." I crumble the cookie and press my fingers against the crumbs. "But it feels weird."

"As with anything, only do what feels right. It's your choice."

"My choice." I finish my tea, then wipe up the crumbs. "Thanks," I say.

He nods and smiles. "Of course."

I think about what he says when I go downstairs to start my afternoon workout. It seems like he and Riddick have the same message to me over and over again: whatever happens, it's my choice. My choice who touches my body. My choice what I do to my body. My choice of what I tell people. My choice, my choice, my choice.

Dad never gave me a choice. It was always do this, come here, eat this, touch that. If I didn't, I get beat.

But this…

Freedom is a heady thing.

The next morning, Alex is waiting for me outside of school.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't be so nosy."

I shrug. "I'm new, and you're curious. I get it." Then I swallow. "Look, you know how I don't know about… anything? It's because I grew up poor. Real poor. I moved around a lot, had to scavenge to survive. I didn't have time to read or watch vids or hang out with kids my own age. We all worked or had our own problems. And I was always an outcast." I nod my head real fast and swallow. "So. That's why I don't want to talk about it."

"Being poor isn't anything to be ashamed of."

"Tell that to Tiffany."

His face twists. "Fuck her. It doesn't matter to me." He licked his lips. Looked down at the ground, then up at me through his eyelashes. "You said that… things were done to you."

"I don't want to talk about it." I start to turn, but he grabs my arm.

"That's fine. You don't have to. But is that why you go see the school psychologist all the time?"

"That, and I was almost eaten by monsters on the way here."

His eyes bug out. "What?"

I grin and launch into the edited version of the story. And then I spend the rest of the day telling it to increasing crowds of admiring boys. Even a few girls listen, just not the ones in Tiffany's group. For a moment, I'm popular. It's different, but not bad. But I don't let it go to my head.

At least, not much.

One day, I come home from school, and Imam's not waiting with tea. He comes down late for dinner, and he looks… troubled.

"What's wrong?" I ask. My stomach is shrinking with anxiety, so I just push my food around on my plate.

"Nothing," he says.

"Something's wrong. You look worried."

"It is a personal matter. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He reaches out and pats my hand. There's a look on his face, one that discourages me from asking any more questions.

I look at Riddick, but he just shrugs, so I let it go.

But I know he's lying and I don't forget.

This continues for days. Some days, he's there to meet me with tea, but other days, he's locked in his study. He gets calls during dinner. Strange men come and talk with him in low, urgent voices. I can never make out what they're saying, and his study is soundproof or something, because I can't hear anything through the walls.

Finally, one afternoon, I confront him. "Did something happen to Lajjun?" I ask, voicing my second worst fear.

That breaks through the distracted air that's become a permanent part of him. A look of fondness washes over his face, and he puts his hands on my shoulders. "Jack, Lajjun is fine. She's still in cryosleep, and her voyage continues safely. She is on her way."

"Then it's Riddick. Did they find him? Are they onto us?"

He shakes his head. "It's just some business, little one. Something very important I must deal with. I'm sorry I am not as attentive as usual, but it's a thorny matter."

"Maybe I can help you. Maybe Riddick can help you."

Imam smiles. "It's not in Riddick's area of expertise. And you should only be worrying about your history exam at the end of the week. Go study."

"But…"

"Go." He pushes me away.

I go, but I don't forget. There's an air of anticipation hanging around the house. Something is going to happen, and it's going to happen soon. I don't like being kept in the dark. I don't like not being trusted. I'm some stupid kid. I could help.

But he won't let me.

So, I try to lose myself in the routine of life as much as possible. I work out. I get better at hand to hand combat. Riddick is pleased and says that soon, I'll be ready to start learning how to fight with my knife. He's having to correct my form less and less, and he's teaching me more complicated movements. Kicks and flips and how to take down an opponent with just my legs. It's fun and exhilarating, and afternoon workouts are the best part of my day because that's when we really spar.

School continues on as well. My grades improve. A few of the girls start talking to me. I still mostly hang out with Alex and the guys, but it's nice to get to talk to someone else. Like, one day in science, I'm partnered with this girl named Alicia. While we're trying to construct a device that will test water quality, she says, "My aunt Sam said that you're probably one of the bravest people I'll ever meet."

I raise my eyebrows and look at her from the corner of my eyes. "Because I survived that planet?"

"Well… I mean, yeah, that too. But I told her about how you shave your head. Like, you're bald, but not sick or anything. She says that letting yourself stand out like that is really brave. Especially when you're our age."

"Oh." I don't know what to say.

She smiles and shrugs. "I don't get along with Tiffany or her friends. I mean, they aren't mean to me, but they're not nice to me, either. I just sort of exist. And, do you want to hang out sometime? We can go downtown and watch a movie or something."

It's the first time someone other than Alex has asked me to do something. I don't know what to say. I know Imam would want me to say yes, and it's not that I don't want to hang out with Alicia. I just don't think I'll have much in common with her.

But, then, what do I have in common with Alex? And I like him fine. We always have things to say to each other. And we usually have a good time together.

"Sure," I say after a long moment of silence. I smile, and it feels weird on my face. "I'd like that."

She grins. "Great."

And, just like that, I have two friends. Well, two friends my own age. Alicia and I do go to the movies one day. We see a love story about two teenagers who are running away from a mining colony, looking for a better life. They join forces and eventually fall in love. It's nothing like my dad used to watch. He only watched things with a lot of blood or violence and killing. There are no explosions in this movie and, except for Les Miserables, I don't think I've ever seen a movie without explosions. But, I like it. I think. It was a new experience anyway.

And life moves on. It's new and different, but the routine is comfortable and growing familiar. Except for Imam's secrecy, I'm happy.

Then, one day after school, Alex kisses me.

I pull back, startled. "What'd you do that for?" I demand.

He blushes. "Because I like you."

"What?"

"I like you, Jack. I want you to be my girlfriend."

I gape at him. "Why?"

He laughs. "Why? You're the most amazing girl I ever met. You're strong and brave and smart. And beautiful."

"I don't have any hair!"

"That's partly what makes you so beautiful!" He leans in to kiss me again.

I pull away. "I've got to go."

"Jack! Don't go! Let's talk about this. Jack!"

But I run. My heart is pounding, and my vision is swimming. I'm so confused. I had no idea this was coming. Surely there should have been some kind of sign that he liked me like that. Something.

Unless, he'd been giving me signs and I just missed it because I'm so socially…

Riddick drops out of a tree in front of me and lands in a crouch.

I almost slam into him but manage to stop right in time. "Riddick? Why aren't you at work?"

He grins that cocky, devil-may-care grin of his and straightens. "What do you say we blow this joint, huh, kid?"

"Blow this… like this planet?"

He nods.

"Is something wrong? Did you get made?"

"Something like that. Come on." He turns and starts jogging down the street in the direction of the spaceport.

I follow, adjusting my backpack as I go. "Where's Imam?"

"He's not coming. It's just the two of us."

I blink, shocked. "Is he going to be okay? Did you warn him? I don't want…"

"There's no time, Jack. He'll be fine. He's got plenty of resources."

"Okay." Something feels wrong, but I trust Riddick. I follow him, but I can't help feeling nervous. We shouldn't be breaking up the family like this. We should be making time to get Imam.

There are hundreds of people milling around the spaceport. Riddick keeps me slightly behind him, looking around, eyes wary. I don't see anything out of the ordinary. I mean, I expected the place to be swarming with mercs or law enforcement, but except for a few security guards, there's nothing. Which is good; it means we might get out of here.

I keep my head down and follow Riddick, weaving through the crowd. My heart is pounding. I have no idea what's happening. Do we even have a ship, or are we stealing one? How are we going to get off planet? What's going to happen to Imam? What…

"Stop."

I halt immediately.

Riddick pulls open a utility closet and pushes me inside. "Stay here until I come for you. Don't make a sound."

I nod and step back, further into the shadows.

"Here." He pulls my knife from his pocket and hands it over. "I'll be back." Then he steps back and closes the door.

I slide the knife from its scabbard and stuff the scabbard into my backpack. My palms are slick with sweat, and my mind won't stop turning in circles. What's going to happen? Where are we going to go? How did Riddick get caught? He hasn't killed anyone, hasn't don't anything wrong since we've gotten here. He's been a model citizen.

Why can't they just let him be?

The door opens suddenly, and I jerk my knife up to attack position, startled.

Riddick's mouth twitches. "Come on. Let's get to the ship."

"Are we stealing it?"

He shook his head. "Naw, I've had it for months now. Bought it with the last of Johns' money."

I nod and follow him, weaving in and out of people, trying to be inconspicuous. But my heart is in my throat the whole time.

The ship is small, but big enough for two to live comfortably. I catch a glimpse of a large living space with smaller sleeping quarters attached. There's a hollowness to the floors that suggest that there are smuggling holds underneath. When I pass the galley, I see bags of food on the counters and protein packs stacked in the plastic-faced cabinets.

This is not a spur of the moment decision. Riddick's been planning this. Maybe not long, but he's had this escape route ready to go.

In the cockpit, I sit quietly next to Riddick, watching him go through preflight and checking in with the tower. I bite my lip as we pull out into the atmosphere and into the black. I twist my fingers as we do a hyper jump to parts unknown; Riddick had logged a flight plan, but we were obviously ditching it. We needed to get lost. And there was a whole lotta space to get lost in.

"Where are we heading?" I ask once we're on our way. There's a lump in my stomach, and my eyes are stinging.

"Not sure yet. Maybe Gaspiri or Dryposo. Somewhere out of the way, but busy. We'll blend in."

"And you're sure Imam will be okay?"

A muscle spasms in Riddick's jaw. He gives a curt nod. "He'll be fine, kid."

I nod. But, then, tears feel like they're going to start falling, so I get up and go to the bathroom. Once there, I splash water on my face, even though I know we have to conserve. Both Gaspiri and Dryposo are far, and who knows how long it'll take. Who know what convoluted path Riddick will take us on.

It's going to be conserving water and protein paste for dinner. It's going to be boredom and filling time with whatever we can. Luckily, I still have my school books and computer. Although, they might be able to track the computer, so maybe I shouldn't use it.

I slid to the floor and draw my knees to my chest.

I'm not sorry I've gone with Riddick. I mean, I like Imam all right. I like him a lot. I even kind of love him. He's like what my dad should have been, and I've never had that, and it's overwhelming at times to. But if it came down to him and Riddick, I was always going to choose Riddick.

But it still feels wrong. It still feels like running out. And it's just… I don't know. It's not what I'd imagined, somehow. This. Running away. I guess I got used to feeling like a normal kid.

I knew it couldn't last.

I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath.

On the run. A fugitive. That's fine. Let's see what tomorrow will bring.