“HELP!”I race to the square, crossing it, looking all around, listening out-No.No.It’s empty.Viola’s breathing heavy in my arms .And Haven is empty.I reach the middle of the square.I don’t see nor hear a soul.I spin around again.“HELP!” I cry.But there’s no one.Haven’s completely empty.There ain’t hope here after all.”

“Francia don’t look too convinced. I never seen arms so crossed.”

“A sematary," I say. "A what?" Viola says, looking round at all the square stones marking out their graves. Must be a hundred, maybe two, in orderly rows and well-kept grass. Settler life is hard and it's short and lotsa New World people have lost the battle."It's a place for burying dead folk," I say.Her eyes widen. "A place for doing what?""Don't people die in space?" I ask."Yeah," she says. "But we burn them. We don't put them in holes." She crosses her arms around herself, mouth and forehead frowning, peering around at the graves. "How can this be sanitary?”

“TODD!" I yell again and I reach him and his Noise opens even farther and wraps around me like a blanket and I'm grabbing him to me, grabbing him to me like I'll never let him go and he calls out in pain but his other arm is grabbing me back - "I thought you were dead," he's saying, his breath on my neck. "I thought you were dead.""Todd," I say and I'm crying and the only thing I can say is his name. "Todd.”

“Viola?" he says.And I turn to look at him -And when I do, I can hear everything he's thinking.Everything.Clearer than before, clearer than seems possible -And I'm not even sure I'm supposed to, but I look him in the eyes and I see it -In the middle of everything he's feeling -Even after we fought -Even after I doubted him -Even after I hurt him -I see how much he loves me.”

“This was a kingdom.(“What?” Conor said, looking around his backyard. “Here?”)(The monster cocked its head at him curiously. You have not heard of it?)(“Not a kingdom around here, no,” Conor said. “We don’t even have a McDonald’s.”)”

“Here's what I think," I say and my voice is stronger and thoughts are coming, thoughts that trickle into my noise like whispers of truth. "I think maybe everybody falls," I say. "I think maybe we all do. And I don't think that's the asking." I pull on her arms gently to make sure she's listening."I think the asking is whether we get back up again.”