“The doors stay open,” Ellington
reminds us, nodding at the doorways that link our room to the ones
on either side. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want to disturb
anyone. Except us,I think as I kick off my boots and step
out of my jumpsuit. It covers Dylan’s on the floor. You’re all
about busting our rhythm, aren’t you?
Ellington jerks his thumb at the empty bunks
where Parker and Shanley napped this afternoon. Beyond them I can
see another set of bunks, a sleeping shape on each. He doesn’t have
to say anything else—I can read the words clear enough in his
shadowed eyes. You’re not alone, that look says, so don’t
fool around.“Breakfast is served in the commons at eight,” he
says. “Hopefully your friends will be back by then.”
“Hopefully,” I echo. He waits until I
crawl into my bunk, pull the covers up over myself, turn away from
him and face the wall before he walks away. Sure, there are two
other people asleep in this room. Sure, we’re not alone. But right