It's not until we arrive at the school that I look back and count the refugees. Thirty two. Santo infierno, thirty two freaking people! I feel a small smile crawl to my lips. I thought we'd be getting ten at most, fifteen if I was being optimistic. The refugee girl who had helped us in the battle had gone from looking at Tristin as if he were Dios himself to trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Her name is Maya, at least that's what Nicole told me. Both girls have been silent while we've been walking. Something odd seems to pass between them with every step, something I don't completely understand. It feels familiar, nevertheless. Maya is a skinny girl -- and I mean she's close to bone thin. Malnutrition. It used to be an issue for us, too, before we figured out how to grow and cultivate our own food. She has chocolate colored skin and tightly coiled dark hair. Her eyes are like black pearls and almost match her slim eyebrows. She probably would've been movie-star beautiful, I can tell, if she were properly fed and could sleep without having to worry about a Host breaking through her window. If she had lived with us. I suddenly feel a pang of guilt, because we could've helped these people sooner.

Calista, a Hispanic woman in her twenties, greets us at the door. "¿Dónde está Tristón?" she asks.

I nod in his direction. He notices and comes over. "Did something happen?" he asks anxiously. He rubs his neck, an old habit of his when something's bothering him. I'm tempted to ask, but I know better than to try to integrate him in front of a huge crowd. Or at all. Trying to get Tristin to admit feelings is like asking a brick wall to serve you some coffee.

"Sí. It's... strange. We thought you might know what it means."

"What? What is that supposed to mean?" He furrows his brow, confusion apparent.

"I... I don't know how to explain it. You just have to see it."

"Is there any way I can help?" I ask, shifting from foot to foot.

"Just showing the novatos around is enough. If we're right in our guesses we'll need them."

"Hear that, Nina?" Tristin says with a smirk. "You're on rookie duty." Well, Tristin is making jokes. We're quite obviously doomed. He tells jokes only if something's wrong. More wrong than usual, I mean. If he's disturbed, we're in deep crap, since nothing seems to get through to him as freaking terrifying.

"Oh, shut up, you asshole." I grin. Tristin and Calista head in.

"Are we almost there?"

I jump and turn around. "Dios, you scared the crap out of me, Maya." She tilts her head at her name, but I don't let her ask how I know it and just nod to the school. "We're already here."

She looks up and gapes. The school isn't all that impressive. It honestly looks as if it could topple over at any moment. In addition to the floors already on the school, we've built extras for lodging and storage and other things on top of it from rubble. It's patched up from several storms and unfortunate incidents, but it's survived. Just like us.

Beth walks over with Liam and Nicole. "We can split them up into groups and each take some, if you want," Beth suggests. Liam lets out an exaggerated groan, but doesn't refuse. Nicole shrugs indifferently. As always. I will get that girl to admit she doesn't want to do something one of these days. Hopefully. Maybe. Actually, that might be hard.

"All right." We begin splitting up the refugees. My hands are instinctively on my arms, which still hurt, and I can't help but to picture Abuela smiling and cooking in the kitchen, Abuelo puffing his cigar and teasing me as we play chess. I can practically smell the tobacco and sugar of their house. Taste her famous tamales. Hear the sound of salsa music playing. I miss the way we used to live, before hell on earth broke loose. If I play my cards right, I can honor them. I remind myself that everyday. I just have to do that. Then, I can be finished with this.

Then, I can be at ease.