“The cup,” I prodded him.
“So I’ve cracked Mom’s precious china. I put it back in the cabinet, turning its cracked side toward the back so maybe she won’t notice, even though I know it’s only a matter of time before she does and I’m dead meat. Know where I turn for help?”
I didn’t have to think hard. I knew where the story was going. “God.”
“God. I prayed for God to keep Mom away from that cup. Like, for the rest of her life. Or at least until I moved away to college. Then I prayed that he could heal the cup. He’s God, right? He can heal people—what’s a tiny freaking made-in-China cup? That was the optimal solution and that’s what he’s all about, optimal solutio
ns.”
“She found the cup.”
“You bet your ass she found the cup.”
“I’m surprised you still pray. After Flubby and the cup.”
He shook his head. “Not the point.”
“There’s a point?”
“If you’d let me finish the story—yes, there is a point. Here it is: After she found the cup and before I knew she’d found it, she replaced it. She ordered a new cup and threw away the old one. One Saturday morning—I guess I’d been praying for about a month—I went to the cabinet to prove the prayer circle wrong about wasted prayer, and I saw it.”
“The new cup,” I said. Razor nodded. “But you didn’t know your mom replaced it.”
He threw his hands into the air. “It’s a fucking miracle! What’s cracked has been uncracked! The broken made whole! God exists! I nearly crapped my pants.”
“The cup was healed,” I said slowly.
His dark eyes dug deep into mine. His hand fell to my knee. A squeeze. Then a tap.
Yes.
70
IN THE BATHROOM, the gush becomes a stream, the stream becomes a trickle, the trickle becomes an anemic dribble. The water slows and my heart quickens. My paranoia was getting the better of me. A decade passed while I waited for the water to be cut off: the go signal from Razor.
The hall outside is deserted. I already know that thanks to Claire’s tracking device. I also know exactly where I’m going.
Stairs. One flight down. One last promise. I pause long enough on the landing to slip Jumbo’s sidearm into the jacket pocket.
Then I slam through the door and hit the hall running. Straight ahead is the nurses’ station. I sprint straight toward it. The nurse pops out of her chair.
“Take cover!” I shout. “It’s going to blow!”
I swerve past the counter and race toward the swinging doors that lead to the ward.
“Hey!” she shouts. “You can’t go back there!”
Any day now, Razor.
She hits the lockdown button on her desk. It doesn’t matter. I hurtle into the doors at full speed and smash both off their hinges.
“Freeze!” she screams.
The entire length of the hallway remains; I won’t make it. I’ve been enhanced, but I can’t outrun a bullet. I skitter to a halt.
Razor, I’m serious. Now would be a very good time.
“Hands on your head! Now.” Struggling to catch her breath. “Good job. Now walk toward me, backward. Slow. Very slow, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you.”