I don't know if Sophia knows what happened to her dad yet. I don't know if she cares, either. Seems to me like she doesn't really like her dad. I don't want to ask, though, because I'm scared it'll make her sad. I think she's actually scared of her dad. He's a scary man. I'm more scared of Ed than I am of anyone else. Dad told me to keep away from Ed 'cause he's a creep. I don't know what being a creep entails, but I know that Ed's gotta be worse than Merle, or else my dad probably wouldn't say nothing about him. 

Anyway, Ed's all angry, so he's hiding away in his tent all night. I ain't complaining, though, because now that Ed ain't here, Sophia gets to sit with me and Carl. We're sitting around the fire, watching Andrea cook up some fish. She and Amy went fishing using Dale's gear and they came back with a whole buttload of fish. 

Carl's been learning a lot already. He's learned lots of different knots from Shane. He learned how to hunt from me. And he learned how to skin a squirrel and how to catch frogs, even though we only caught one. And Amy said she'd teach him how to fish, too. But Carl's also taught me lots of stuff, too. He taught me how to multiply big numbers without doing the lattice boxes. I couldn't do that before. He also taught me about his cars. 

I think Sophia and Carl are my best friends now. I had a few friends in school, but I don't think I was anyone's best friend. They let me play with them at recess, but they never invited me to birthday parties or sleepovers. 

And whenever I tried inviting kids over for my birthday or for a sleepover, their parents always said no 'cause they didn't trust no Dixons. I get it, though. Parents wanna protect their kids, most of the time. They just get nervous about that stuff. I'd be nervous about everything if I had a baby. 

But with Sophia and Carl, it's like we're having a sleepover every single day. We just sleep in different tents, but other than that, we're with each other all the time. Sometimes we need time apart, though, because everything gets a little overwhelming after a while. But then we can hang out and play again. I like having best friends.

Sophia's already finished with the fish she had on her plate. We were having a race to see who could eat the fastest, but Lori made us stop because she said one of us was gonna start choking if weren't careful. Carl's almost done with his fish, too, and I still got, like, six bites left. Guess I am a slow eater. 

I always thought Dad was being dramatic when he said I'm a slow eater. Sometimes it'd take me so long to eat my food that he'd set a timer on the microwave and if I wasn't done by the time the timer went off, I'd get sent to bed without dessert. I remember staring at the numbers on the microwave, watching them count down to zero as I shoveled my mac and cheese into my mouth as fast as I could, just so I could have a popsicle after dinner. One time I ate a grilled cheese sandwich so fast because of that timer that it made me throw up. 

Tonight, though, I don't got no timer. I can just eat my food and enjoy, even if I'm losing the race that we're not supposed to be having because of it. 

"Pass the fish, please," Sophia says to Amy. Amy passes the fish over to Carol and Carol starts loading some more onto Sophia's plate. 

"Man oh man, that's good," Shane murmurs as he's eating his fish. 

And, man oh man, he's right. I love this fish. We been eating too much squirrel and rabbit lately. It's good to have something else for a change. Plus, this is extra fun, 'cause I usually sit with Dad and Merle when we're eating, but today I get to sit with everyone, together. Even Jim gets to sit and eat with us, even though he got heatstroke earlier today. He started digging a ton of holes because of some dream he had. It was weird, but he's better now. 

I'm sitting with Shane to left and Carl to my right, and Dale's sitting right across from me. I'm trying to appreciate all of them right now, but part of me is still worrying about my dad. He's still not back yet. I feel like he should be back by now. 

I'm poking at my food as I'm thinking about this, and I think I must be making a face, too, because Shane can tell something's wrong. He nudges me with his elbow. "You alright there, June?" he asks.

"I miss my dad," I tell him just as I stab a piece of fish with my fork. 

Shane doesn't seem very happy about me talking about my dad. I really don't think he likes Dad. I get why. My dad ain't been that nice to him at all. But he's still gotta understand that I love my dad even if he doesn't like him. "Yeah, I know, kiddo. I'm sure he'll be back," Shane tells me. 

"Yeah. They're all gonna be back," Carl tells me, nodding his head in agreement. I nod, too, even though I'm not so sure. 

"I've gotta ask you, man. It's been driving me crazy," I hear Morales say. I look over at him to see that he's speaking to Dale. "That watch," Morales says. 

Dale's smiling as he looks down at his watch and starts fiddling with it. "What's wrong with my watch?" he asks.

"I see you every day, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass," Morales says, chuckling a little. Andrea points at him with her fork, silently saying that she's seen it, too. I've seen Dale winding his watch, too. I just never thought much about it. 

"I've wondered this myself," Jacqui says, raising her eyebrows a little. 

"I'm missing the point," Dale says, holding his hands out to his sides to show that he don't get what they're meaning. I don't get it, either. 

"Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while," Jacqui says. She's right, but I don't what that has to do with Dale's watch.

"But there's you every day winding that stupid watch," Morales says.

I don't think Dale's watch is stupid, so I say so. "His watch ain't stupid," I tell him. 'Cause I don't want Dale to feel bad 'bout his watch. I like his watch. He does, too. So it ain't stupid. 

"Thank you, June," Dale says, chuckling a little bit. He leans back in his chair. "Time- it's important to keep track, isn't it? The days at least," he says. No one says anything to agree, so he asks Andrea. "Don't you think, Andrea? Back me up here," he says. Andrea kinda just chuckles awkwardly. 

No one's really backing Dale up, so I decide I should. "Days are important. How am I supposed to know how old I am if I don't know whether or not my birthday's passed?" I reason.

"Exactly," Dale says, gesturing to me. I give him a smile. "I like- I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations," Dale says. Now I'm thinking about my dad again. I hope he's on his way back. It's already dark out. He should be coming back by now. "He said, 'I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me; I give it to you, not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it'."

I take a moment to think through all of Dale's words. It's real confusing 'cause he likes to use all sorts of big words like mausoleum. But I think he means that, if you have a watch, you can forget about what time it is sometimes, but then you can remember what time it is later, 'cause your watch was keeping track for you. I bet it has a bigger meaning than that, too. I just can't always catch on to all the things smart people like Dale catch on to. 

Everyone was taking a moment to think about Dale's words, I think, because everyone got real quiet for a few seconds. But then Amy broke that silence by saying, "You are so weird." And everybody started laughing. 

Even Dale thinks it's funny. "It's not me. It's Faulkner. William Faulkner. Maybe my bad paraphrasing," he says. I don't know who William Faulkner is, but I bet he was an author. Dale knows a lot of authors' names. 

Amy takes a sip of her water before getting up to leave. "Where are you going?" Andrea asks her with a concerned look on her face.

"I have to pee. Jeez, you try to be discreet around here," Amy says, making each and every one of us start giggling and laughing. Even me, who is still thinking about my dad being gone. Amy goes up into the RV to go to the bathroom. 

It's quiet for a few moments until someone thinks of something else to talk about. Andrea comes up with something to say, and surprisingly, she asks me a question. I don't even think I've ever talked to her that much before. "How old are you, June?" she asks me. "I feel like I know the least about you out of everyone else in this camp."

"I'm ten," I tell her after I finish chewing the piece of fish I had in my mouth when she asked. "I got a radio and some CDs for my birthday."

"Oh, yeah? What album CDs did you get?" Andrea asks me. She's a lot nicer than I thought she'd be. I was a little scared of her, at first. Don't know why. 

"I got The Smiths album that has the orange picture. I can't remember what it's called. I also got a Björk one. The album that's got Hyperballaad on it," I explain. Dad let me go to the store and pick out which ones I wanted after he gave me the radio. I could also just listen to whatever radio station I wanted on it. It had a CD player built into the radio. It was so cool. "Dad got one CD for himself, too, though. He steals it sometimes," I say, giggling. But then, I remember I don't got my radio no more. "Well, he used to steal it, I guess. It's still at my house, so I don't get to use it no more."

"Yeah. I miss my radio, too," Andrea says sympathetically. 

Then, the RV door swings back open and Amy steps out. "We're out of toilet paper?" she complains. Oh man, I probably should've told someone when I saw that there was only one roll left of toilet paper in the RV yesterday. Now we don't got any. 

I'm about to tell Amy I'm sorry, 'cause I forgot to tell someone about the toilet paper, but then someone walks up beside her. And then I see that it ain't a someone, it's a something. It's a walker and it grabs onto her arm. Amy starts screaming as the dead man tears into her arm.

More walkers come stumbling out of nowhere. I ain't ever seen this many walkers before. Shane grabs my arm and pulls me up to my feet. My heart starts beating real fast and everyone starts screaming and screaming. Shane grabs his gun and Carl and Sophia cling to their mommas. But I don't got my dad to cling to, 'cause he ain't here. I stay back behind Shane as he starts firing off rounds. I don't know what else to do. 

Even behind Shane with his gun ain't safe, though, because I feel something tugging on my hair. I spin around and I'm faced with a dead man. I panic and grab the knife that Lori was cutting Carl's fish with. I stab its hand first, so it'll let go of my hair. Once I'm free, I just start running. 

I don't know what else to do but run. I've never killed a walker before. I know how I've gotta do it. Dad said what to do. It's gotta be the brain, he said to everyone, don't y'all know nothin'? I don't know how I'm supposed to reach the thing's brain, though. It's much taller than me. Plus, I don't want to kill it. I'm scared. I'm really, really scared and I don't know what to do, so I just keep running .

Running, and running, and running, and I can hear the dead man following behind me. My lungs are burning and my eyes are watering and the walker is still coming after me. I might be screaming, but I'm not even sure. I think I can hear everyone screaming back at camp. I think I can hear the gunshots, too. But nothing sounds louder than the pumping of my blood through my veins. 

This is stupid. This is so, so stupid. I should've just stayed with Shane. I'm gonna die now 'cause I left Shane's side. I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have left Shane. I should have made a bigger stink about Merle leaving. Maybe if I would've been tough and fought him on it, then maybe he would've stayed. If he would've stayed, then Dad would be here. If Dad were here, I could cling to him and I wouldn't be running, and running, and running no more. I'd be safe. 

But Dad's not here. I'm on my own and I'm in the woods and I've got a walker chasing me. I'm crying now, I think, because I don't want to die. I've still got the knife Lori was using to cut Carl's fish. I still got that. Maybe I could kill the walker, if I tried hard enough. But I ain't tough. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to save myself. 

 I want my dad. I want my dad so bad. 

Dad's not here. Dad's not here and Merle's not here and Shane's not here, so I'm on my own. I gotta live. I don't wanna die yet. I'm only ten. I don't wanna die. 

I turn my head and look back at the walker. It's fast, but it ain't as fast as me. It's dead and it's decaying and it ain't as fast as me. I'm alive and I'm strong and I'm fast. I can do this. I can live. Please, please, please let me live. Let me live. 

I'm a Dixon. Dad says so. You're a Dixon through and through, he says. Dixon's are tough. I can be tough. I can live.

I stop running and I turn around, facing the thing. I've got the knife in my right hand and my heart's beating so fast I think it might just pop out of my chest. It's like hunting. I'm just hunting a bunny rabbit with Carl and Sophia and Louis and Eliza. I'm just hunting a little, old bunny rabbit. So, I crouch down behind a tree. It's coming after me. It's coming around the tree, so I circle around to the other side. 

Walkers are just stupid dead people. They just hear and see and smell. They don't do no thinking. So I pick up a stick off the ground and throw it across to a different tree. The walker- oh, that dumb, stupid walker- it thinks it's me. It thinks the stick is me. But it ain't. When the walker stumbles towards the tree I threw the stick out, I hold my leg out in front of its ankles and it falls to the ground. Before it gets a chance to get back up, I sit on his back. 

I think I got it. I really think I've saved myself. I hold the knife up in the air with both and hands. Just as I'm about to stab the walker in the back of its head, it starts to twist and turn beneath me, knocking off of it. It's stronger than me. It's dead and it's old, but it's a grown man and I'm just a kid. I start screaming. I can't help it. 

The walker flips me over and now I'm laying on my back. The knife is on the ground a few feet away from me. I start pushing the walker away by its shoulders. It's snapping its mouth open and shut, tryna eat me like I was eating that fish. 

I'm screaming. I really can't help it. I know the screaming will only lead more walkers my way, but I'm so scared. "Daddy! Daddy, help!" I'm screaming. I know he ain't here. I know he's not. I need to scream for someone else who can help. "Shane! Shane! Help me! Help me!" I cry. 

No one's coming to help me. I'm all on my own. 

Using one arm to keep the walker from killing me, I start reaching for the knife with my other arm. I'm fumbling with the handle of it and the walker is snapping its jaw just a few centimeters away from my face. I'm crying and I'm screaming. "No! No! Help me!" I'm keep yelling, even though I don't think anyone can hear me. 

Finally, finally, finally, I get the knife. I'm holding it by the handle as I stab it into the side of the dead man's head. it freezes. Its jaws stop snapping and its body goes slack. I pull the knife outta its head and blood starts pouring down on me, getting all over my dress and even some on my face. 

As I'm catching my breath, I crawl out from underneath the walker. I keep the knife in my hand as I stand back up. My dress is all ruined, covered in blood and dirt. I'm still crying. Despite all my screaming, I don't hear or see any more walkers. But as I'm spinning around in a circle, looking around for walkers, I realize I don't know which way leads back to camp. I don't know where I am. 

"Shane!" I yell, hoping he'll hear me. 

I don't hear no more guns or no more screaming. Maybe it's over. Maybe everyone's ok. Not Amy. Oh, God. Amy's gonna die. She got bit. She's gonna die. My stomach starts to hurt and I get a burning feeling in my throat. I glance over at the dead walker and then it all comes out. All of the fish I ate for dinner, spilling out into the grass. I gotta get back. I really gotta get back. I wipe my mouth clean. 

"Shane! Dale! Help! Help!" I shout. My voice is all shaky and I can't hardly control it. I'm crying 'cause I want my dad. He's not back yet. I just want my dad. "Shane! Where are you?!"

"Juniper!" a voice is calling. It ain't Shane's voice, though, and it ain't Dale's either. It's Dad's voice. He's back. He's back.

"Daddy!" I shout, running towards the sound of his voice.

"June!" I hear Dad shouting. I'm running so fast that, before I know it, I'm crashing into him. When I slam into him, I fall back on my butt and Dad drops to his knees in front of me. I'm crying and I'm so scared but Dad's here now. He puts his hands on my cheeks, looking at my face. "You ain't bit? You ain't scratched?" he asks, all quick and panicked. 

"I ain't bit or scratched," I tell him, still trying to calm my breathing. He can tell how scared I am, and I think he might be scared, too. 

I'm still crying and Dad picks me up by my armpits and pulls me up to my feet. Then he wraps one of his arms 'round my back and his other hand goes to the back of my head. He pulls me towards him and I hide my face in his shoulder and he rubs my back.

"You're ok. You're ok, baby," he says, trying to get me to calm down. But I'm scared and I can't stop crying.

"I- I didn't know what to- what to do," I tell him in between my cries. He's running his hand through my hair, shushing me. 

"You did good, baby. You're ok. I'm right here," Dad tells me. 

"I was so scared," I say. I think he was scared, too, 'cause his back is going up and down, up and down real fast and he's taking shaky breaths. 

"I know, sweetheart. I know," he soothes, rubbing his hand up and down on my back. He only calls me names like that when I'm crying real hard and he wants me to calm down. "Stop cryin', baby. It's ok. You're fine," he says. 

I'm trying real hard to stop crying, but I still feel scared. Amy's gonna die and I almost died. I killed a walker and I've got blood all over me and I can't- I can't really breathe right. I can't breathe right. "Daddy, I can't... I can't breathe, Daddy," I say. I'm getting more and more scared, even though the walker is dead now. I just think something's wrong 'cause I still can't breathe right. 

"June, it's ok. Stop cryin'. It's ok," Dad says. I'm trying to stop. I am. But the tears keep coming. I've never been this scared before. I thought I'd be dead and Dad would never see me again. Never ever. And I'd never see my dad again. Dad's pushing me away from him, but I'm holding onto his shirt for dear life. 

"Daddy," I cry. 'Cause all I want is for him to hold onto me like Rick was holding onto Carl. 'Cause I'm scared and I can't breathe, but he wants me to stop, and I'm trying, but I can't. 

"I'm right here. Just- just stop. Stop cryin'. I'm right here, girl," Dad tells me. I know he's there. I know he is, but he ain't here like how he used to be. 

"Dad," I sob.

"Juniper, I'm right here," Dad says again. 

"I know. I know," I cry. But I can't tell him that he's here, but he ain't here like how he used to be. I can't tell him that because he wouldn't understand. He wouldn't get it. He never does. "I'm sorry," I say.

Shane scoffs and I didn't even know he was there until I heard it. He's still got his shotgun in his hands and he's standing back, a few feet behind my dad. He's shaking his head like he doesn't believe what he's seeing. 

Dad rips my hand away from his shirt and grabs onto my wrist as he turns around to face Shane. "Somethin' you wanna say?" Dad spits. I'm clinging to his arm and crying like a crybaby. 

"Y'know what? Yeah," Shane says, taking a step closer to me and my dad. He's standing tall, so Dad straightens his posture, too. "You wouldn't've gone out to get your jackass, douchebag brother, you would've been here for your daughter, but you weren't," Shane says. 

Dad scoffs. "You think I don't know how to take care a' my own kid?" he asks.

"You don't even know how to comfort your own kid, man. What's that say 'bout you as a father?" Shane asks. He's laughing like it's funny, but it's obvious that he's angry. "You weren't here, man."

"I found her, didn't I? She's fine," Dad says, pushing me further behind him. Shane hates him. I think Dad hates Shane even more, though.

"She was out here callin' my name, 'cause she knew her daddy wasn't there for her," Shane tells him. I wish he would just shut up. He's making my dad mad and I don't want that right now. I don't want that ever.

"Dad, I wanna- I wanna go back to the tent," I say, wiping my eyes with my arm. Dad tugs me closer to him and puts his arm 'round my shoulder, keeping me close to his side as we walk past Shane. He glares at Shane as we go by him.

When we get to the tent, Dad pulls my pajamas outta my bag. As I'm changing into my pajamas, Dad is sifting through my backpack, looking for my hairbrush. I'm glad to get outta that dress. Looking at the blood makes me feel like I'm gonna puke again. After looking through my whole backpack and not finding my hairbrush, Dad decides that I can just brush my hair in the morning. 

"You don't know where you put it?" he asks me as I crawl into my sleeping bag.

I think about it for a moment and then my eyes start burning again. "I think... I think I let Amy borrow it," I say, trying not to start crying again. Amy's dying. 

Dad goes quiet for a moment, and then he sits down on the floor of the tent, right next to my sleeping bag. "We'll find it tomorrow," he says. I nod and pull my blanket up higher over my shoulders. Dad tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, then puts his hand on my cheek. He rubs his thumb over my cheekbone. "G'night, June," he whispers to me. He just looks at me for a moment longer, then pulls his hand away and starts to get up.

"Please stay here, Dad. Please don't leave again," I whisper. I'm scared. I'm too scared to be on my own anymore. 

"June..." Dad says, pressing his pointer finger and thumb into his eyes. 

"Please, Dad. I'm scared. Please," I say. 

He does the thing where he stares at me for a few moments, thinking real hard. And then he sighs and lays down on the floor of the tent, right next to my sleeping bag. "You don't gotta be scared, June," he says. When I know he's right here, right by me, I feel a little less scared. But I know he's got more important things to do. I just think those things can wait, just for tonight. He starts running his hand through my hair again. "Just go to sleep, sweet girl."