The First Glader

8

George looked between them, something like gratitude swelling beneath his ribs.

"Okay," he whispered. "Then we'll be scared together."

Ada looked out at the towering walls silhouetted against the stars.

For the first time, she didn't feel like the walls were closing in.

Not tonight.
Not with them.

Not with George.

George woke before Ada did.

That alone startled her. She always rose first. But when she blinked into the pale morning light, she found him already outside the shelter, sitting in the damp grass, watching the sky turn peach at the edges. His posture was alert but small somehow, shoulders curled slightly inwards, as if he wasn't sure he belonged in the world he'd woken up to.

Nick snored softly behind her. Ada pulled on her shoes as quietly as she could and stepped out.

George didn't turn. He kept his eyes on the sky like he was trying to memorize it.

"You didn't sleep," Ada said. Her voice was low but certain.

George didn't bother pretending. "Didn't want to close my eyes again." He rubbed a hand across his face. "Every time I blinked, I thought I'd open them back in that metal box."

Ada lowered herself into the grass beside him. She didn't sit too close. But not far, either.

"You're not in the Box," she said. "You're here."

He finally looked at her, eyes still shadowed from whatever he'd battled all night. His green eyes were sharper than yesterday but weighed down by exhaustion.

"Are you always this calm at sunrise," he murmured, "or am I just losing my mind slower than expected?"

"I'm always awake at sunrise," Ada said. "Calm is optional."

George huffed a soft breath—almost a laugh. "Good. Because I'm not calm. At all."

"You aren't supposed to be."

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded like that answer mattered more than she realized.

Ada stood and brushed off her pants. "Come on. Nick'll burn breakfast again."

George rose quickly to follow. "Lead the way, boss."

"It's Ada."

"Well, yeah," he said with an easy shrug. "But you're also the one I'm listening to. And fearfully obeying."

"That's not necessary."

"Correction. It absolutely is. You terrify me."

She blinked at him.

He grinned.

She turned away so he wouldn't see her try not to smile.

Nick emerged from the shelter rubbing his eyes and yawned loud enough to startle a chicken. "Mornin'."

George pointed at him. "He's definitely not in charge."

Ada smirked. "Definitely not."

Nick shot both of them an annoyed look. "I liked it better when it was just Ada and me."

"Oh relax," George said. "You need someone charming to balance out your grumpy old-man energy."

"I'm nineteen," Nick deadpanned.

"Nope," George said confidently. "Mentally seventy-two."

Ada almost dropped the pot she was carrying.