Better Admit It
"Do you know what the others are saying?"
She tensed, wondering if this could be about – wondering if they'd noticed how often she came to watch over him on nights like these, perched on his garden wall, shadowed by the old tree with the tire swing.
"…They want to go home," Ozuma elaborated in his grim baritone, settling down beside her. His emerald eyes fell darkly on the lighted window of the sacred-bit bearer Miriam had taken to stalking, or – "protecting," as the St. Shields saw it.
"Oh. What do you want to do?" she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But Ozuma, her oldest friend and fearless leader, had the annoying ability of reading her like a book; sensing her underlying nerves, he smiled.
"Haven't decided yet," the stocky boy admitted, leaning back to regard the black sky. "There hasn't been an attack on the sacred spirits for months, and we aren't here as babysitters for their bearers. I'm sure Kon'll head back to China soon and I know Joseph doesn't want to follow him… It'd be nice to see home again." He shrugged. "Really, Miriam – what's there to stay for?"
She stared, speechless, as Max's bedroom light flickered out.