hello, my friends!

WELCOME TO WASTELAND PART TWO!

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah i'm so excited! I hope you guys love this story!

basic info:

this story follows kai (remember momakase's little bro in wasteland?) He's fourteen now, and he's gonna be Tested for his MBTI type. Wasabi is still the governor, and it's been eleven years since Wasteland. Hiro's twenty-five and married to Momakase (they have two kids) and Tadashi is twenty-eight and married to Honey (they have four kids). The society is sort of the same as it was in Wasteland, but the Test is used as a guide rather than a set of rules. it helps you find people you can work well with and also with understanding yourself. Kai will explain the cognitive functions of the MBTI a little later, but know that they're Ne (extroverted intuition), Ni (introverted intuition), Fe (extroverted feeling), Fi (introverted feeling), Te (extroverted thinking), Ti (introverted thinking), Se (extroverted sensing) and Si (introverted sensing). Everyone has all eight in their function stack, but in different orders according to personality type. It'll make sense later!

also: I have changed a few of the character's MBTI types after very careful review and study. most are the same, but after careful consideration, I believe that Momakase is an ISTP, and Hiro is an ENTP (that doesn't mean he's socially extroverted, but his function stack more closely resembles that of an ENTP than an INTP. If anyone wants more explanation, please feel free to PM me!

thanks everyone!

peace out!

—PROLOGUE—

August 2032

Kai steps gingerly into the cellar, letting the trapdoor shut behind him. He doesn't like being down here—it's too dark, too cold. He wishes Mom wouldn't make him get the canned food all the time.

The three-year-old toddles down the steps, but before he's even halfway down, a massive explosion shatters the silence, and the cellar shakes violently, going dark as the single flickering lightbulb is blown out. Kai yelps in shock and fear as the force throws him down the stairs, and he bounces once before landing on the cold stone floor—on his feet, but his ankle buckles under him and he collapses, letting out a tiny cry of pain.

Chunks of ceiling fall from the roof of the cellar, and Kai curls into a tiny ball, not even attempting to hold back tears. He is only three, after all—crying is normal for him.

Finally, the rumbling stops, and Kai lifts his head shakily, still crying softly. He tries to stand, but his ankle twinges painfully, and he whimpers, sinking back to his knees. Deciding he has to get back up the stairs, Kai crawls over to where he thinks they are, wincing as he bumps his tiny nose against the bottom step.

Kai crawls up the stairs, and the top of his head hits the trapdoor before too long. He pushes on the wood, but it doesn't budge—something has fallen on top of it. He's trapped—all alone in the cold and the dark, with only canned food and bottled water. How long will he have to stay down here? Kai hopes it isn't too long.

"Help," Kai whispers, knocking on the trapdoor. When no one answers, he calls again, louder this time. "Help! Mama! Daddy!"

But he hears no reply, no matter how loud he screams. No one is here. They've left him behind.

Kai curls up again, whimpering, and wishes that somebody, anybody, would come to save him.

But no one does.


The trapdoor clunks open, and Kai looks up wearily, squinting into the near-darkness—after all, there is no light in the Wasteland. Black figures are silhouetted against the dark gray sky, and suddenly, a bright light shines into the cellar.

Kai stares up into the light, his eyes wide. He can make out the shape of a young man—shorter and skinnier than Daddy, but with broad shoulders and messier hair.

"Hey, little guy," the man whispers. "We're here to rescue you. Can you walk? Or do you want us to come get you?"

Kai whimpers softly, unsure if he should trust this man. Before he can decide what to do, though, the man climbs down the stairs and crouches down next to Kai, giving the toddler a kind smile.

"Who're you?" Kai whispers, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"I'm Dashi," the man says. "Me and my friends are here to take you somewhere safe. Are you hurt?"

"My foot," Kai mumbles. "I falled down the stairs."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dashi murmurs, looking genuinely concerned. "Is it okay if I pick you up and look at it?"

Kai doesn't see any harm in this, so he nods. Dashi carefully lifts Kai up and peers at his ankle, probing the bruised skin with gentle fingers.

"It's sprained," Dashi says softly. "But I can fix you. Do you want to come back to our Jeep and I'll help you? I promise we won't hurt you."

"Tanks, Dashi," Kai says, reaching out and gathering a fistful of Dashi's shirt in his hand, just like he usually does with Daddy and Mommy. Dashi doesn't pull away, so Kai deems him trustworthy.

"Anytime, little guy," Dashi says in response to Kai's thanks. "What's your name?"

"Kai," the toddler whispers, then figures he should tell Dashi his real name. "Well, is Kaiwan. But most evwybody calls me Kai."

"That's a good name. Just so you know, I have some friends with me. They're very nice and they won't hurt you. I'm going to carry you up the stairs and put you in the Jeep, okay?" Kai nods, and Dashi smiles, turning to the square of gray sky. "I'm coming up, guys!"

Dashi carries Kai up the stairs, and as they emerge into the faint light, Kai squeezes his eyes shut. He's not used to so much brightness, and he doesn't like bright lights anyway. The Wasteland isn't exactly well lit, but it's a far cry from the complete darkness he's been in for a week.

Several people who must be Dashi's friends are sitting in the Jeep, and Dashi climbs in, putting Kai on his lap and wrapping some kind of bandage around his injured foot. Kai sticks his thumb in his mouth—a habit he's never been able to break—as the Jeep starts to roll across the Wasteland, heading for some unknown destination.

Kai starts to fall asleep, the bumping motion of the Jeep bringing with it a soft darkness. Maybe it's going to be okay. Maybe he'll find someone to take care of him.

Maybe he can finally be happy.


July 23, 2041

I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes and trying to massage the pillow creases off my cheek. Golden light streams onto the covers, strewn all over the bed where I must have kicked them. No wonder—I've been having crazy dreams all night about what's gonna happen today.

This is it—the day I'm going to be Tested.

The Testing actually isn't anything like it used to be, though. Ever since the Clearing, the Test has been used to help guide you into a field, not throw out some hard-and-fast rule about what job you need to have. It's a lot better than it used to be—the Test would sort you into a job based on your Type, and if you defied that, you'd be kicked out into the Wasteland. I'm glad I came here after the Age Of Ashes.

Tolling out of bed, I stumble into the bathroom, wanting to get ready for the day. After getting dressed, I survey my reflection in the mirror—short, pale, messy black hair. Brown eyes, small nose, a slightly softer figure than most boys my age—I haven't entirely lost my baby fat, which is super annoying. It's not like you can see it, but I also have ADHD and I'm on the autism spectrum. I'm not the most impressive teenager, I guess, but it's how I am and I'm okay with it.

I wipe a smudge of green paint off my nose and run a comb through my hair, trying to make myself more presentable. My hair doesn't lay flat for anything, but it's not that bad today.

After straightening my hoodie and cleaning all the paint off my face—I did an acrylic landscape yesterday—I head down the grand staircase for breakfast.

Yeah, you heard right—we have a grand staircase. My adoptive parents work in Governor No-Ginger's inner circle, as housing development coordinators. They're in charge of expanding the boundaries of San Fransokyo, trying to get it back to the way it was before the Great Destruction. I know almost nothing else about their job, but I know it pays well.

When I get into the kitchen, Mom and Dad have already left for work, but a plate is sitting at my place at the table with a cinnamon roll on it, as well as a note. Smiling, I pick it up and read it.

Kai—

So happy for you! We can't believe you're old enough for your Testing—it seems like just yesterday we adopted you. Can't wait to hear all about it! Have a wonderful day!

PS—cinnamon rolls are in the fridge if you want more…

Mom and Dad

I devour my cinnamon roll, then zip up my hoodie and head out the door. It's not far to the Testing Center, but I think I'll hop on the bus. Exercise is not my thing.

A trolley car passes as I step out onto the street, and I grab onto the pole at the back, hoisting myself onto the platform as it rolls past my house.

"Where're you goin', Kai?" the driver, my uncle Fred, asks, turning around in his seat and nearly running into several cars.

"Testing Center!" I reply, leaning out of the car and letting the wind blow through my hair. I love morning bus rides—the sunshine and the wind create the perfect balance of warmth and cold.

"Test day, huh?" Fred asks genially. "Well, don't sweat it, kiddo. I remember my Test—not even a drop of fear. Of course, I was dwelling upon more weighty matters such as how to bring the Kentucky Kaiju to life, so that may have played a role in my stoic facing of fate."

I laugh. "Thanks, Uncle Fred."

Fred isn't actually my uncle—he's my sister's husband's friend. My family is a little complicated—I should probably lay it out for everyone so y'all don't get confused.

So I'm adopted, which I don't mind. My biological sister, Momakase, married my uncle Hiro, whose brother is my uncle Tadashi. His wife is my auntie Honey, and uncles Fred and Wasabi are their best friends. I guess that kind of thing happens when you make a three-week trek across the Wasteland to save the world—you become so close you're more like family than friends.

Now, onto my actual family. First, there's my adoptive siblings—my ten-year-old brother, Peregrin, and my six-year-old sister, Sabirah. I call them Pippin and Saber, which they don't seem to mind. Then there's my parents—my mom is Kenyan, my dad Scottish. Because of that, my siblings are a crazy mix of skin tones and hair colors. Pippin has light brown skin, wild, dark brown hair, and blue eyes, and Saber has dark brown skin, blond hair, and brown eyes. Mom's currently expecting my second baby brother, and I can't wait to see what he looks like.

"Testing Center!" Fred yells, and the trolley car lurches to a halt in front of the massive glass building.

"Thanks!" I call back, leaping off the trolley and bursting through the double doors. After that, I rush into the hall, darting around the corner and making sudden contact with what feels like a somewhat cushioned wall. The impact knocks me backwards, and I land on the carpet, rolling over and looking up to see who I ran into.

"Hey, Kai," says a familiar voice, and a hand grabs my hood, pulling me up. Governor No-Ginger smiles down at me, then brushes off his sweater. "Is it today?"

"Yeah, I say breathlessly. "Where do I go?"

"I'll take you," the governor says, leading me down the hallway. "Testing Room's this way."

When we reach the cavernous room, Governor No-Ginger pushes open the door and leads me over to the massive computer. "You'll just take the Test with the keyboard, it's already pulled up for you. Take your time—there's no right or wrong answers, and we don't want to mistype you. When you're done, just send the results to me and then come get your wristband—we'll use that to let other people know your Type."

He claps me on the shoulder and turns toward the door. "Good luck, Kai."

"Thanks, Wasabi," I mumble, mustering a faint smile.

As soon as the governor is gone, I take a deep breath and press the large purple button on the screen, which reads START TEST.

The questions pass in a blur—things like abstract versus concrete thinking and whether or not I think about how my decisions will affect other people—and before long, I find myself staring at a screen that proclaims, SUBMIT RESULTS?

My hands shaking furiously, I move the cursor across the screen and click the words, and the screen starts to load the results—closer, closer, closer…

The computer goes blank for a second, and then four letters appear on the screen.

ENFJ

I let out a long sigh of relief, slumping back in my chair. I scroll down to read the description of my Type, realizing that it sounds exactly like me. Empathetic, compassionate, future-oriented—this is scarily accurate.

When I've finished the description, I hit SEND RESULTS and stand up, walking out the door and going into the hallway. I wonder where Wasabi is—I think I need to get my wristband or something.

Upon getting back to the front desk, Wasabi appears out of nowhere, carrying a heavy-looking, dark green wristband. "Hey—congratulations! ENFJs are awesome—everyone loves you guys."

He clips the band, made of carbon fiber and engraved with glowing green letters reading ENFJ, around my wrist, and I study it. It looks heavy, but it's actually pretty light.

"You just press the button on the top to lock and unlock it," Wasabi tells me. "This'll let people know what Type you are. What field are you thinking about going into?"

"It's a little embarrassing," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. "But…I think I wanna be a nurse. A neonatal nurse practitioner. It'd be great to help patients like Baymax and Uncle Tadashi do—especially babies. I remember being really interested when Pippin was born."

"It's a good option," Wasabi reassures me. "And so sanitary—everything is so clean in medical facilities. I wouldn't mind working there."

I laugh. "Of course. Thanks, Uncle Wasabi."

The governor ruffles my hair. "Anytime, Kai. Congratulations again."

I head back out the door and hop on the next bus, asking Fred to take me to the hospital where my uncle Tadashi works. I assume nurses train there—he has a whole team of them. Hopefully this'll be fun.

When we reach the hospital, I hop off the bus and hurry inside, nearly crashing into the welcome desk. The receptionist—her wristband identifies her as an ISTJ—looks down the bridge of her nose at me. "And you are?"

"Kaiwan Yashiki," I mumble, avoiding eye contact and staring at my shoes. "I just Tested—I need to see my uncle Tadashi—I mean Dr. Hamada. Is he around?"

"I'm afraid he's booked, Mr. Yashiki," the receptionist informs me. "Dr. Hamada is far too busy to be troubled by the likes of you. I do believe I must ask you to leave."

I open my mouth to protest, but then Baymax comes waddling down the hall. "Hello, Kai."

"Baymax!" I exclaim, running up to the healthcare robot and giving him a hug. "Where's Tadashi? I need to see him."

"Perhaps I can help you," Baymax suggests. "What do you need from him?"

"I just Tested," I explain. "I wanna be a CNA—do they train here?"

"They do," Baymax tells me. "I will take you to the training facilities. We will select scrubs and begin your training. The first course is a general knowledge of anatomy and physiology, and the second is hands-on patient care. Follow me."

I can't help throwing a smug look at the receptionist as we walk down the hall, disappearing into the recesses of the hospital.

"Here is the laundry room," Baymax tells me as we enter a large room filled with steam and piles of scrubs. "You can select your scrubs here. I would recommend choosing the color that matches your Type, so you will be easily identified."

The robot leads me over to the piles of new, sterile scrubs, and I select a size small—the smallest they have—in dark green. I hurry into the bathroom to change, and staring at myself in the mirror, I realize that scrubs are a bit unflattering—not really uncomfortable, but not awesome-looking. They're too tight in some places, too loose in others. The shirt is a bit long on me, as are the pants, and the v-neck is a little low, exposing my pale chest slightly. But this is the smallest size they have, so there's really nothing else I can do.

I roll up the pant legs so I don't trip over them and go back out into the hallway, where Baymax is waiting for me.

"Does this look okay?" I ask, gesturing at the scrubs.

"Yes," Baymax tells me. "I will show you around the hospital, and we will get you a name badge and an appointment with Tadashi, so that he can begin your training. He may have one free slot this afternoon."

Baymax takes me through the hospital, showing me all the different rooms and what kind of machines are in them. There's the CT scan room, the MRI room, the x-ray room, and several examination rooms. As we walk down the hall, I hear Tadashi's voice from behind a closed door, talking frantically to a screaming child. I hope everything is okay in there.

After touring the hospital for a while, Baymax tells me I can go eat lunch, and Tadashi will meet me there. I head down to the hospital cafeteria, flashing my new name badge so they'll let me get food. The pizza looks really good, so I pick up two slices and go to sit at a table in the corner.

Before I eat, I pull out my phone, checking for texts. Sure enough, there's several from my parents and one from my sister, Momo. I quickly text all of them the same thing—that I Tested as an ENFJ, that I'm gonna be a CNA, and that I'm at the hospital right now. I make sure to clarify that I'm here for work, because I'm no stranger to the hospital—or at least to its emergency department. The most recent time was when my siblings and I went rock climbing last year, and I fell and broke my arm. Besides that, I've been in the x-ray room two other times, but not the other rooms, so Baymax's tour wasn't all for naught.

After several minutes, my uncle Tadashi hurries across the cafeteria, carrying his own pizza and sinking into the seat across from me. "Hey, Kai!"

"Hey, Uncle Tadashi," I greet him, smiling but struggling to maintain eye contact. I'm afraid to make eye contact with just about everyone, but my uncle is really nice and understands that it's part of my autism. I usually do better with looking at him than with other people, though.

"I'm so glad you're gonna work here!" Tadashi exclaims. His wristband, a dark cedar green, glows with the letters INFJ, indicating his Type. Unlike most doctors, Tadashi wears scrubs just like the rest of his staff, and they actually complement his muscular figure well. Maybe I can find a tailor or something to fix mine.

Tadashi continues speaking. "Are you trying to be a CNA, or are you gonna move on after that?"

"I think I'll start as a CNA," I tell him, "but then I'll work my way up. I think I wanna be a nurse practitioner—a neonatal NP."

"I've always loved working with the babies," Tadashi agrees, taking a bite of his pizza. "I don't often work in the NICU, but when I do, it's amazing. The babies are all in their little incubators, and they seem so happy to see everyone. I think you'd be a great NICU nurse, Kai. How about we go there once you're done?"

"Sure!" I agree, shoveling my pizza into my mouth so fast I nearly choke. "I'm almost done hang on a sec—"

"You can slow down," Tadashi laughs. "The babies aren't going anywhere. And we don't want you to kill yourself before we even get to your new job."

I stop with a massive bite of pizza in my mouth, then actually try to chew it. Swallowing, I wipe the tomato sauce off my face with a napkin and shove the last of the crust into my mouth, then wait impatiently for Tadashi to finish.

When the doctor finally stands up to put his plate in the trash, I jump up and follow him to the NICU, which is up on the fourth floor of the hospital. Instead of taking the elevator, though, Tadashi turns toward the stairs, and I follow him up them, panting. I'm kinda out of shape, I guess.

"Sorry, Kai," Tadashi apologizes as we get to the third floor. "I like to take the stairs because I'm a stress eater—especially when my kids are this young. Speaking of which, Honey is pregnant."

"Again?" I ask. "It's the fifth time!"

"Yep," he says happily. "And we just found out—it's triplets!"

"Actually?" I ask, gasping for air as we get to the top of the stairs. "Wow! So now you'll have, what, seven kids?"

"Yeah! I'm so excited—but Honey says these are the last ones."

"I can see why—I can't imagine having seven kids."

When we get to the door of the NICU, Tadashi instructs me to put on a hairnet, mask, and gloves. I do so, discovering that the hairnet in particular is really annoying, and Tadashi does the same, looking very professional in his scrubs and glasses.

"Ready?" Tadashi asks, and I nod. My uncle pushes open the door, and we step into the NICU.

The first thing I'm aware of is that it's hot in here—maybe a result of all the incubators. The second thing is a tiny, weak cry, fainter than any I've ever heard.

I wander over to an incubator marked Boy, 3 lbs 2 oz. 23 July 2041, 8:41 am. The tiny baby is only four hours old, and it appears that he hasn't been named yet. His skin is pale, so pale it's almost translucent, and a soft, fine hair covers his small body. On his head, though, he has a considerable amount of brown, fluffy hair. As I look at him, he lets out another little wail, and I insert my gloved finger into the incubator. The baby curls his fingers around it and hiccups a little, waving his other hand around.

"Aren't they all so beautiful?" Tadashi asks, coming over to stand next to me. "I remember when Hiro was born—he was three months early, and he stayed in the NICU until what should have been his birthday. He was even smaller than this little guy, but he made it. We only lose a few babies a year now—it's still really sad, but it's improved a lot."

"How long will this kid stay in the NICU?" I ask, looking up at my uncle.

"Probably a few weeks," Tadashi tells me. "After that, he's going up for adoption—his mom came in at three in the morning, told us she couldn't keep him. I'm sure he'll find a home—everyone wants to adopt babies these days."

"I hope he likes it," I murmur, looking down at the infant. "I know I like being adopted. My parents are really nice—I bet they'd even adopt him if they could."

"Even if they can't, we'll find someone," Tadashi reassures me. "Speaking of your parents, how's your mom? She's gotta be close to term now."

"Eight months," I tell him. "She's kinda fed up with being pregnant, but she's really excited for the baby to come."

"Are you excited to get another little brother?" Tadashi asks.

"Of course," I reply, smiling. "I can't wait to see what he looks like—Pippin and Saber look like something in their genes exploded, so I'm excited to see this kid."

"He'll be perfect, I'm sure," Tadashi says warmly. "Do you wanna look at the other babies?"

"Sure," I agree, gently pulling my finger out of the baby boy's grasp. "Do you think this little guy needs anything?"

"I'll get a nurse to make sure he's been fed and everything," Tadashi promises. "Don't worry, Kai. We take care of everyone here—even if we don't really know what they need."

Tadashi whispers to a passing nurse to check on number twenty-seven—the babies must have numbers if they don't have names yet—and she heads down the aisle between incubators to tend to the baby. I look around at all the other infants, so small and innocent. The smallest one I see is a little girl weighing only two pounds, the biggest closer to nine—he's probably close to going home.

Man, I can't wait to work in here. It'd be awesome to work with so many little babies, to make sure they all get cared for. This is, without a doubt, what I want to do with my life.

Time passes far too quickly, and Tadashi has to run off to his next appointment. I head back downstairs for my anatomy class—Baymax printed off my schedule for me—and pay as much attention as I can during it. It can be hard sometimes, what with ADHD, but I really try, and the instructor—a family medicine nurse practitioner—seems happy with my progress. She gives me the homework of studying the skeletal system and sends me off to my next class, an overview of hospital procedures. After that, I get to go home. My workday ends at seven—a little late, in my opinion, but everyone else's is the same way. Usually, it starts at ten, so we don't have to get up too early.

I hurry out the front doors of the hospital and nearly get run over by the trolley as it passes. I run after it for several feet and then leap onto the back, grabbing the pole and breathing hard.

"Hey, Kai!" Fred yells from the front of the bus. "How was your day?"

"Awesome!" I yell back, letting the evening wind blow through my hair. "I've gotta get home for dinner, though—how soon will that be?"

"Fifteen minutes, tops!" Fred calls. "I can be there in ten if I speed—hang on—"

He presses the gas pedal, and the other passengers shriek as the bus jolts forward, speeding down the street. I whoop in delight, swinging out into traffic while still clutching the pole. I've only fallen off once, and I got some pretty bad road rash, but I was okay. I'm not really worried about losing my grip on the bus.

When the bus screeches to a halt in front of my house, I hop off, shouting a thank-you to Fred, and then run into the house, where my parents are setting the table for dinner.

"Kai!" Mom exclaims, her dark eyes lighting up as she crosses the kitchen toward me. A stack of plates is balanced on her enormous baby bump, and she puts them down as she wraps me in a hug. "How was your day, baby? Never mind—you can tell us when we sit down." She raises her voice. "Peregrin! Sabirah! Come in for dinner!"

My ten-year-old brother darts into the room in a whirlwind of yellow hoodie and jet-black hair, my sister, dressed in a purple hoodie, following him much more slowly. Saber's only six, and she's already more mature than Pippin and I will ever be. I don't know my siblings' Types yet, but I can guess. Pippin is totally an ESFP, and I'm pretty sure Saber is an ENTJ.

Once the table is set with plates of homemade fried chicken, Dad and Mom sit down at opposite ends of the table, but Mom is at the head and Dad is at the foot. My mom is the most powerful presence in this house—she's an ISTP and rather intimidating, with her dark brown skin, flowing black hair, and lithe, strong figure. I mean, she's pregnant right now, but I'd still be scared of her if she wasn't my mom. She's nice to her family and everything—she has good Fe, ask me about it later—but very scary if you don't know her. My dad is a lot less terrifying—he's short, shorter than Mom, pudgy, and an ENFJ. His bright red hair and blue eyes go well with his usually green attire, and he's a lot more approachable and understanding. Both my parents are awesome, despite how different they are.

I'm adopted, yeah, but it almost looks like my parents could have birthed me—from the way Pippin and Saber turned out, I'm pretty sure my parents' kids could look like anything. With my black hair and pale skin, I think I could pass for their biological child.

"So tell us about your day, Kai," Dad says after a family prayer. "How was work?"

"It was really cool!" I tell him. "I got to go to the NICU with Uncle Tadashi and see all the babies, and then I took some classes on anatomy and hospital procedures. The second one was a little boring, but I guess it was important. And lunch was great—the hospital has really good pizza." I shove a chicken tender into my mouth, chew, swallow, and then grab another one. I'm starving.

"What're you gonna be?" Pippin asks, his bright blue eyes wide. My little brother might be ten, but he still has a baby voice, and my heart melts every time he talks.

"A neonatal nurse practitioner," I explain, talking around another bite of fried chicken. "That's a nurse that helps take care of newborn babies—like the ones that treated you when you were born early."

"I know what a neonatal nurse practitioner is," Saber announces rather smugly, pronouncing the difficult words perfectly. Pippin shoots her a rather injured look, and she smirks. Sometimes my little sister acts like she knows everything, especially when Pippin's around. She holds over him the fact that she lost her baby voice about two years ago, while Pippin is still trying to get rid of his lisp.

"I think I'll be a CNA first," I inform my family after my fifth chicken tender. "Then I'll keep training and become a registered nurse, and then I should be able to be a practitioner. It'll take a while—like six to eight years—but I think it'll be worth it."

"It will be," Mom tells me. "You'll be an excellent nurse, I'm sure of it."

I smile. "Thanks, Mom. How was your day at work?"

Mom and Dad both launch into a complicated story of bridge maintenance—the Bridge of Ubuntu, specifically, which is a bridge that runs across the Dividing. Great, now I've gotta explain that—the Dividing is a large, lava-filled chasm that separates the Wasteland from San Fransokyo on one side. Wasabi had the government dig it so no one could cross into the Wasteland. It's not like we're imprisoned here, though—you can get permission to cross the bridge if you need to see family or go on vacation or stuff like that. The Wasteland is just really dangerous, and Wasabi didn't want anyone getting hurt. Even the lava wasn't on purpose—when the workers started digging, they didn't realize there was a lava seam underneath the rock. It's only a security measure, and there's even a fence so people don't accidentally fall into the Dividing.

"Governor No-Ginger is concerned that a group of unidentified individuals may have crossed into San Fransokyo via the Ubuntu last night," Mom explains. "It's not as if he wouldn't allow them, but you know how he is—likes to keep track of everyone." She takes a bite of fried chicken and, swallowing, continues. "I think he should have a better security system in place. He doesn't keep enough tabs on who's in our city."

"Aw, don't sweat it, Shani," Dad says comfortingly. "I'm sure there's no one dangerous. We're perfectly safe."

"Cities aren't generally safe, Rory," Mom replies. "There's gonna be some bad places anywhere. It'd be stupid to assume that there's no crime in San Fransokyo."

"Are we gonna get mugged?" Pippin asks, his eyes stretching wide.

Saber shoves him. "No, you idiot. We're not even outside."

"Don't call your brother names, Saber," Dad reprimands her. "And don't worry, Pippin. We're safe inside—we'd have to be down some kind of dark alley to get mugged."

"And we don't usually go down dark alleys," I add. "We're probably fine."

I push my chair away from the table and stand up, snatching a few more chicken tenders to take with me to my room and clearing my place, as well as some of the condiments so I can say I helped clear the table. "Thanks for dinner, guys. Is it okay if I go lay down?"

"Of course," Dad tells me. "I'm sure it's been a long day. Go ahead."

I give him and Mom a quick hug and then head upstairs to my room, shoving another chicken tender into my mouth even though my scrubs are already uncomfortably tight. What can I say? My dad's a great cook. Besides, I think I might be about to have a growth spurt, so all I want to do is eat.

When I get to my room, I cram the last of my dinner into my mouth and pull off my scrubs, throwing them in the washer so they'll be ready for tomorrow. Setting my name badge on the nightstand, I climb into bed and curl up under the covers, pulling them up to my chin. I'm exhausted, but it's been a good day. I hope tomorrow is just as awesome.

But as I fall asleep, for some reason, I can't help but remember my mom's words earlier—cities aren't generally safe. Unidentified people crossing into San Fransokyo.

I wonder how safe we really are.