Free The Last Girl by Joe Hart Page A

they’ve hurt me. Hurt all of us.”
    He doesn’t take the book from her outstretched hand, instead glancing at the glowing calendar. Immediately he turns away, then shuffles to the door and pulls it open. He snatches something from the lock and pockets it. She expects him to say something more, some final retort, but there’s nothing. He simply steps into the dim hallway, lets the door click shut behind him, and is gone.

    She watches the curved horizon of wall until the sky begins to pale in the east. The urge to cry comes and goes, as does the fury. There is something worse about being reprimanded by Lee. It’s not only because he has been her closest friend for all the years she can remember. It’s something else she can’t put fully into words. He’s told her before that he would give her his name, but never explained exactly what he means. As thrilling as the idea is to have something so precious, the odd independence she feels holds her back and drives her forward at the same time.
    There is the swift flutter of feathers outside the window and her heart leaps in her chest. Zipper? She steps to the window, eyes searching the air outside her room. A small, dark shape swoops past the glass, and her hope flattens. It is a bird, but some species she can’t identify, its outline too compact to be the owl. It glides over the top of the wall and disappears from sight.
    “How does it feel to fly away?” she says, watching for the bird’s shape to reappear. When it doesn’t, she nods once to herself. “I thought so.”
    She dozes for several hours and wakes, groggy and sullen with sleep, to a sharp rap on her door.
    “Zoey? Are you awake?” It’s Simon.
    “Yes. I need a few minutes.”
    A long pause. “Take your time.”
    She showers, dressing in clean clothes and making her bed afterward. She takes the cloth sack filled with that week’s laundry with her when she leaves, stopping to deposit it down the third-level chute, knowing she will most likely be washing it herself later that day.
    Simon says nothing other than “good morning” to her on the way to breakfast, and they encounter no one in the halls since they’re running late.
    The cafeteria is quiet as Zoey collects her plate and sits in her customary place beside Lily. Meeka nods from across the table, her mouth overly full of food. Zoey glances to her left, seeing Sherell seated by herself. The woman’s ebony skin glows beneath the lights, almost as if she’s lit from within. She looks up from her plate and catches Zoey staring. There is a hint of something in her gaze before Zoey looks away, but she can’t determine if it is anger or simply a vague interest.
    “How are you feeling?” Meeka murmurs, swallowing an enormous mouthful of cereal.
    Zoey shrugs. “Sore. Tired. Other than that, fine.”
    “Total bitches,” Meeka says, even lower. “I was late getting out from my shift. If I would’ve been there—”
    “If you would’ve been there, we both would’ve taken a trip to the infirmary.” It’s their custom to rib one another, but she doesn’t fully believe her words. She’s never seen anyone with reflexes as fast as Meeka’s. Perhaps if she had been there, they wouldn’t have gone to the infirmary. Instead it might be them in the boxes right now.
    Meeka seems to read her thoughts. She waves a spoon in Zoey’s direction. “Whatever. It’s probably better this way. Those two needed to be taken down a notch, along with someone else I know.” She says the last words louder, turning her head to stare at Sherell. The other woman glances her way and smiles poisonously. Meeka raises her eyebrows and pulls a face. Zoey laughs a little under her breath, causing pain to slide across her stomach.
    “Stop, you’re only going to make things worse for me,” Zoey says.
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Do you really think Rita and Penny are just going to apologize and leave it at that? The next chance they get, they’re going to attack