My lungs were burning. Know the feeling? About six blocks later, we slowed to a walk. No one seemed to be following us, no cop carshad emerged from the traffic, no sign of Erasers. My head was pounding and it hurt like crazy. I felt like I needed a time-out from life.
With no warning, the Gasman turned and punched a mailbox. "This sucks!" he yelled. "Nothing ever goes right! We get hassled everywhere! Max's head is busted, Angel lost Celeste, we're all hungry-I hate this! I hate everything!"
Stunned, I shut my gaping jaw and went over to him. When I put my hand on his shoulder, he pushed it away. The others crowded around-it was so unusual for Gazzy to break down like this. He was always my little trouper.
Crap.
The flock was watching me, waiting for me to tell the Gasman to snap out of it, get it together. Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around Gazzy, surrounding him. I rested my head against his and just held him tight. I smoothed his light hair with my fingers and felt his narrow back shaking.
"I'm sorry, Gazzy," I murmured. "You're right. This has really sucked. I know it's hard sometimes. Listen, what would make you feel better right now?" I swear, if he'd said, Check into the Ritz, I would have done it.
He sniffled and straightened a bit, wiping his face on his grubby sleeve. I resolved to get us new clothes soon. 'Cause I was Ms. Bank Card.
"Really?" he said, sounding very small and young.
"Really."
"Well, I just want-I just want to, like, sit down somewhere and eat a lot of food. Not just get food while we're walking. I want to sit down and rest and eat."
I looked solemnly into his eyes. "I think that can be arranged."