This doctor guy may not know how to hold a gun, but he ain't so bad. He says we gotta do a blood test, and then we can stay. Don't know what he needs our blood for, but I don't mind giving it to him. I've had my blood drawn before. I'm a little scared of it, to be honest. Thinking about it makes my heart beat fast, but I always do it without fighting because I'm tryna be brave. I hope Dr. Edward Jenner doesn't need too much blood. Just a little, I hope.

Anyway, he ushers us into this huge elevator. It doesn't seem so huge once we're inside with all our bags, though, because now it feels real small. I'm standing behind Sophia, in between Dad and Glenn, and I'm watching Dr. Jenner push the buttons on the elevator. I wish he'd do it like Buddy does it in the movie Elf. Then it'd look like the Empire State Building. Apparently. I've never actually seen the Empire State Building before. 

"Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?" Dad asks, eyeing the gun in Dr. Jenner's hand warily. 

"Well, there were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself," Dr. Jenner explains, looking back at us. He pauses and looks over all of us, as if he's a robot scanning us for something. "But you look harmless enough. Except you," he looks down at Carl and puts on a joking smile. Carl's eyebrows raise, 'cause he wasn't expecting that. "I'll have to keep my eye on you," Dr. Jenner says. 

When we get to the floor that Dr. Jenner's taking us to, the elevator does a big bump and I lose my balance. I grab onto my dad's shirt for a second, and he kinda knocks my hand away. Don't think he likes me standing so close to his crossbow and gun. 

Glenn puts his hand on my shoulder, steadying me. "You ok?" he asks, chuckling a little bit. I nod, looking down at my shoes, 'cause now I'm a little embarrassed. 

We follow Dr. Jenner into a hallway with white walls and white lights. I start walking by Glenn's side, but Dad grabs my wrist and pulls me back to walk alongside him. He's probably still not trusting Dr. Jenner. Dad doesn't like doctors very much. 

"Are we underground?" Carol asks as we're walking. 

"Are you claustrophobic?" Dr. Jenner asks, glancing back at her. 

"A little," Carol says, shrugging. 

"Try not to think about it," Dr. Jenner tells her. That ain't much help. Whenever I'm trying not to think about something, I always end up thinking about it even more. 'Cause I'm so focused on not thinking about it that it's all I can think about. 

Dr. Jenner leads us into this big room that actually is called the Big Room. It's for some tables and chairs and a weird circle platform and a bright circle light. He tells us that this is Zone 5 and the girl he was talking to, Vi, is actually a robot and not a person. In fact, he is the only person left there. 

When Sophia's done getting her blood drawn, Carl goes. And then when Carl's done, I know it's my turn, 'cause I'm the only one left. All the adults went first. Me and the other kids were procrastinating, which means we were putting it off for as long as possible. But now I gotta go up there and let him poke that little needle into me. 

I'm standing by my dad's side and I look up at him, waiting for him to come with me to the chair, like Carol went with Sophia and Rick and Lori went with Carl. But Dad just nods his head forward and pushes on my back a little. "Go on," he says. Guess I gotta go on my own. 

With my hands held behind my back, I walk as slowly as possible to the big chair. I think Dr. Jenner can tell I'm nervous 'cause, when I sit down, he says, "I like your shirt."

"Thank you," I say, sitting down in the chair. He's talking 'bout my flower shirt. "It's a daisy," I tell him. 

"Bellis perennis," he says as he starts wiping my arm with his little wet wipes.

"What?" I ask with a little laugh. I don't know what the heck Bellis perennis means. 

"It's the scientific name for the common daisy," Dr. Jenner tells me. I don't know why we gotta have two different names for the same thing, but I guess it's just how it is. "Do you want me to warn you before I do it, or just do it?" he asks me.

"Just do it," I tell him. 'Cause if he warns me, it'll make my stomach get nervous butterflies. Just as I tell him to do it, he pokes the needle into my arm. I flinch a little, but once it's in there, it doesn't hurt so bad. I just hate thinking about the fact that he's sucking blood outta me. It's gross. So I look at the ceiling instead of the tube. 

He keeps the needle in there for only, like, thirty seconds. "There. All done," he says. He puts a little cotton ball on my arm and sticks it there with a bandaid. Then, he pats my knee. "You did a great job. Very brave," he says. 

"Thanks," I say bashfully as I slide down from the chair. 

"Now, who's hungry?" Dr. Jenner asks the whole room. Everyone pops up outta their chairs saying I am, I am, 'cause we're all very hungry. 

Dr. Jenner leads us to a whole new room that looks an awful lot like a school cafeteria, except way fancier. I sit between T-Dog and Jacqui, 'cause that's the only seat that's left. If I could choose, I would've sat next to Sophia and Carl, but they're both sitting by their parents. My dad's standing behind me, leaning up against the counter. 

We've all got some big, fancy plates that we're filling up with big, fancy pasta. There's a little dish going around with some spaghetti sauce for us to add to our pasta, but I don't like spaghetti sauce, so I skip it and eat my pasta plain. I got a glass of water in my hand, but all the adults got glasses of wine. Except my dad. He don't got a glass of wine, he's got a whole bottle of wine. 

"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner," Dale says, raising his eyebrows as he pours Lori a glass. Everyone's laughing, 'cause they know where this is going. "And in France."

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then," Lori says, holding her hand over Carl's cup. 

"What's it gonna hurt? Come on," Rick says, egging her on. Lori raises her eyebrows like she doesn't believe it. "Come on," Rick says again. And Lori gives in, raising her hand from the glass and smiling. 

"What about you two? Sophia? June?" Dale asks as he pours a little bit into Carl's cup. 

"No, it's gross. It even smells gross," Sophia says, giggling and shaking her head. 

"June?" Dale says, raising his eyebrows. 

I look up at my dad. "Can I?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, too. Dad doesn't even say anything. He just pours a little bit of the wine from his bottle into my cup. 

"Let's try it at the same time," Carl says to me from across the table. I nod along, excited. He lifts his glass and I lift mine. "Three... two... one," he says. And then we both take a sip of the wine. His face immediately goes sour. "Ewww!" he complains, cringing away from the cup. Everyone starts laughing. 

My face is a little scrunched, too, because it definitely don't taste good. "What d'you think, June?" Dad asks me, leaning over the back of my chair to see my face. I shake my head and push the glass away from me, and everyone starts laughing again. Even Dad. "Don't like it?" he asks, smiling and taking my glass for himself. 

I shake my head adamantly. "Uh-uh. Why d'you like that?" I say, drinking some water to wash out the taste. 

"Well, you two can just stick to soda pop, then," Shane jokes, laughing at me and Carl.

"Not you, Glenn," Dad says, pointing at Glenn. 

"What?" Glenn asks, confused. 

"Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get," Dad says, which makes everyone start laughing again. I don't even get the joke, to be honest, but I laugh along with everyone, anyway. 

My dad never gets drunk in front of me. He'll drink, yeah, but he doesn't ever get actually drunk. I think he doesn't wanna because he's scared he's gonna be like Merle and Grandpa. Merle either gets real real mean, or he gets real real goofy. And Grandpa always gets real real mean when he's drunk. One time he threw a beer bottle at me, but he missed and it hit the wall instead. And then I stepped on glass and it got stuck and Dad had to get it out with tweezers. 

But my dad ain't like that. He usually only drinks a little bit when I'm around. If he wants to get real drunk, he goes to the bar. But now I guess it doesn't matter anymore, because he's drinking and drinking like it doesn't matter at all. And I can tell he's gonna be the goofy kind of drunk, 'cause he's making jokes and smiling like everyone else. I'm glad he's not being the mean kind of drunk. 

Outta nowhere, Rick starts banging his fork against his cup, which apparently means everyone be quiet, because everyone suddenly stops their laughing and chattering. Rick stands up outta his chair. "Seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly," he says, picking up his glass.

T-Dog picks up his glass, too. "He is more than just our host," he says, raising his glass.

Then, everyone starts raising their glasses. Even my dad raises his wine bottle. "Here's to you, doc. Booyah!" Dad shouts. I can't help but start giggling at that, 'cause I ain't never seen my dad act like this. It's really weird. My dad catches me giggling at him and he comes over and pokes the side of my belly. "Whatchu laughin' at, girl?" he asks me, still smiling. I just keep giggling. I can't help it. 

"So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?" Shane's voice breaks up everyone's laughter, making us all go quiet. Seems like he's the mean kind of drunk. "All the, uh- the other doctors that were supposed to be figurin' out what happened. Where are they?" he asks, staring blankly at the middle of the table. 

"We're celebrating, Shane. Don't need to do this now," Rick says, settling back down into his chair. 

I start pushing and poking around at what's left of my noodles. I hope Shane doesn't start acting like Grandpa. 

"Woah, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move- supposed to find all the answers. Instead we-" Shane pauses and chuckles like he doesn't believe it, "we found him. Found one man. Why?"

"Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted," Dr. Jenner explains solemnly. 

"Every last one?" Shane asks with disbelief in his voice. 

"No. Many couldn't face walking out the door. They... opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time," Dr. Jenner goes on. 

I keep poking around at my food. I don't like this conversation. I wanna go back to joking around about Glenn and giggling at my dad. 

"You didn't leave. Why?" Andrea asks. 

"I just kept working, hoping to do some good," Dr. Jenner says. 

Everyone's quiet for a few more moments. And then Glenn breaks the silence, glaring at Shane in a disappointed way. "Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man,"  he complains. 

I'm swirling around my noodles, pretending I'm at home and there's a timer on the microwave and I've got an Oreo waiting for me if I finish my food before the timer goes off. 

Dad's leaning on the back of my chair again and he rubs my shoulder a little. "Eat your food, baby. Don't play with it," he says, which is weird, 'cause he usually only calls me things like that when he's tryna get me to calm down or stop crying. But I'm calm. I'm just sitting here, eating my food. I don't complain, though. 

When everyone's done with their food- except for me, I only got about two-thirds of it finished- we go into a new hallway. This hallway looks less like a fancy science building and more like a hotel. 

Turns out that this place is kinda like a hotel. It's got a whole bunch of rooms and each one's got a bed and a couch and a bathroom. There's even something called a rec room at the end of the hall that's got games and stuff in it. Dad says I can check it out in the morning, 'cause it's too late and I gotta shower and go to bed. 

Speaking of showers, they actually got hot water in here! I don't gotta go bathe in the cold, sparkly quarry water. I get to use the nice, warm shower. Turns out these showers don't got shower curtain's, though, which is still weird. Only some sliding glass doors. It's real fancy. 

I get some pajamas outta my backpack. It's a blue nightgown with little clouds all over it. Reminds me of the walls in Toy Story. I love this nightgown, so I take it into the bathroom with me and get showered. 

The water is just as warm as I imagined. I never stayed at a hotel before, but I bet this is what it's like. They've got all the fancy stuff in the commercials. Unless they're lying. They could be lying. I don't know. But I like to imagine that they're not lying, 'cause this is real nice and I like pretending that I'm in a fancy hotel. 

When I'm done with my shower, I put on my nightgown and go back into the main room. Dad's lying on the bed with a wine bottle in one hand and the other draped over his eyes. I go to my backpack and get out the hairbrush. I don't know if Dad was sleeping, but if he was, then the zipper on my backpack woke him up. 

"Sorry," I say quickly, pulling my hairbrush outta my bag. 

"What?" Dad murmurs. 

"I woke you up," I say. 

"Wasn't sleepin'," Dad tells me, shaking his head a little. He puts the wine bottle on the nightstand and sits up all the way. "C'mere," he says, patting the bed in front of him. I don't wanna make him turn to mean drunk, so I do as he says and sit on the bed in front of him. He takes the hairbrush outta my hand and starts brushing my hair. 

I'm frozen in my spot. My dad stopped brushing my hair a long time ago. Even if I'd ask him to do it, he'd say I'm old enough to do it on my own. He's been saying that since I was in, like, kindergarten. Since I came back from that other family, I think. So I don't know why he's doing it now. I guess it's because he's drunk. It's just weird. 

"You get enough to eat?" Dad asks me as he's combing through the knots. 

"Yeah. Ate almost the whole bowl," I tell him. I got a small stomach, apparently. That's what Merle always said. 'Cause he'd be on his third helping and I'd get full before I even finished one plate. Part of it was because I'd avoid all the food I don't like, though. And I don't like lots of foods.

"Good," Dad says. He brushes out the last knot and tosses the hairbrush onto the couch, which is across the room. I go to get up to get my blankie outta my backpack, but Dad pulls me back towards him. "Where you goin'? I said shower and go to bed, didn't I?" he says, poking me in my side again. 

I start giggling and swatting his hand away. "I'm gettin' my blankie!" I tell him, squirming outta his arms. 

"Lay down. I'll get it," Dad says, lifting up the blanket. I huff and do as I'm told, climbing under the covers. Dad gets up and starts digging through my bag for my blankie. When he finds it, he walks over to my side of the bed and drops the blankie right on my face. 

I pull it right off my face and start laughing again. "You're weird when you're drunk," I tell him, raising my eyebrows. 

He starts laughing and sits on the edge of the bed. "Oh, yeah?" he says. 

"Yeah. You said booyah," I remind him. 

"No, I didn't. Go to sleep," Dad says. He puts his whole hand over my face and pushes my head down into my pillow. 

I take a second to try not to start laughing again. It's hard not to when he's acting so funny like this. "Goodnight, Dad," I say to him. 

"G'night," he says. Then, he does something I never woulda guessed he'd do in a million years. He leans over me and kisses my right cheek, and then my left cheek, and then my forehead, and then the tip of my nose, and suddenly I'm laughing again. He leans his forehead against mine and I get quiet, waiting to start giggling at him. But then he whispers to me, "I love you, Junebug."

And I'm frozen again. I ain't laughing or smiling or making fun of him for being drunk. I'm frozen. My eyes are burning and I don't know why. 

Every single night since I was little- since I got back home after those three weeks I was gone- Dad would see that it was past my bedtime and he'd say, Go to bed, June. And I'd get up and go to my room and as I was walking down the hall, I'd say, Goodnight, Dad. I love you. And from the couch or the kitchen or wherever he was, he'd say, Goodnight, June. And I'd go to bed.

He'd write I love you on my birthday card, but he doesn't always say it. I know he loves me. I know he does because he would always stay up all night to help with homework if I needed him to, and I know he does because he worked hard all day long to get enough money to get food and clothes and presents for me, and I know he does because he's my dad. He just doesn't always say it.

But it ain't even the I love you that's freezing me. It's the name. 

Daddy ain't called me Junebug since I was sitting in the front office at school and the cops were there, telling him to back off and shoving him away from me. I remember it. He said, It's ok, baby. I'mma get you back. I promise, Junebug. And then the cops pushed him out the door. 

When I came back, I wasn't Junebug no more. I'm just June. And when I'm scared, I'm June, and sweetheart, and baby, and sweet girl. And when I'm in trouble, I'm Juniper Jo Dixon. 

I haven't been Junebug since I was six years old. 

It takes me a moment, but eventually, I say, "I love you too, Daddy."

He kisses my forehead again and then he gets up and goes into the bathroom, bringing his wine bottle with him. A minute later, I hear the shower start running. I sink deeper under the covers, thinking hard about everything. I don't know if I'm happy or angry or sad. I think I'm everything. 

Ten minutes later, my dad comes outta the bathroom. I pretend to be asleep, 'cause it's late and I'm supposed to be sleeping. I expect my dad to plop down onto the couch and sleep there, but he doesn't. I feel the other side of the bed sink down as he drops himself onto the bed with a tired sigh. I'm still pretending to be asleep, lying on my stomach. I don't know how good of a job I'm doing, but he seems to be falling for it. 

I haven't shared a bed with my dad since I was six, either. I used to sleep in my dad's bed whenever I had a nightmare or whenever I was sick or whenever I was hurt or whenever I just felt like it. But when I got back, if I had a nightmare and I went to climb into his bed, he'd scoop me up and carry me back to my own room. When I got older, I just stopped trying. But I'm sharing the bed with my dad tonight and he doesn't even seem to mind. Is it all because he's drunk?

All of a sudden, I feel his hand on my back and I can't help but jump a little bit, not expecting it. 

"You still awake?" Dad asks me quietly. 

After a moment of hesitation, I nod. He doesn't even get mad. Instead, he wraps his arm 'round my side and pulls me closer to him. I'm curled up, practically hiding in his chest. He puts his hand on the back of my head and starts rubbing his thumb up and down, up and down, up and down, and it's making my eyelids feel really heavy. 

"Go to sleep, baby," my dad says. And I do, 'cause I can't even keep my eyes open any longer.