I hear Neca long before I see him. While he hasn’t wandered off, he certainly doesn’t sound happy. I slink against the wall and wish I had some chocolates to go along with the papaya. That and maybe a bottle of mexcalli.

After listening to him curse the day he met me using a string of swears that would kill my mother all over again, I figure the situation isn’t going to get any better. Shuffling forward loudly, I call his name. The cursing stops. “Ah, Neca? You okay?” Instantly, I regret the idiotic question.

“If by ‘okay’ you mean hopping mad about being sucker punched by the most ridiculously annoying girl in Worker City who for the life of me I can’t figure out why I’m trying to help, then, yes, I’m fine.”

His outline is now visible. “About that, I’m really sorry.”

“So now you’re going to tell me that you slipped? That you accidentally hit me with a brick?”

“That wasn’t a brick, it was my fist.” The words slip out.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Obviously, I’ve been hit harder.”

“Oh, obviously.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just—”

“Yes?”

“You’re right. It wasn’t an accident. It’s just—” exasperated, I don’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Why didn’t you try asking me to wait here?”

“Wait. I—” the question catches me completely off guard. “I thought—”

“Look, I get it. You don’t want anyone to know the location of your mother’s garden. It’s a special place.” He steps forward until I can make out the edges of his face. “If we’re going to work together, we need to trust each other. Right now I trust fellow psych-fighters more than I can trust you. At least in the cage there are rules.”

Even though I know he is right, I struggle with the impulse to argue. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve been assuming the worst of you even though you’ve given me the best.” It stings me slightly to be so vulnerable with this boy, but the business of trading has taught me that admitting a few wrongs is the fastest means to repairing a broken relationship. And Neca is right, we need to work together. It’s equally obvious I need him more than he needs me.

“I know it’s not much,” I hold out the gifts. “I brought you some water and a papaya.”

He whistles through his teeth. “How did you know?”

“What?”

“Papaya’s my favorite.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Papaya’s everyone’s favorite.” I lead us into a section of cave I’ve not frequently traveled, one that will open near the shield wall of Immortal City.

“Is it yours?”

“Nah, not me. I’m more of a kiwi girl.”

“You’ve got kiwi?”

I nod, my mouth full of papaya, my head stuck out in front of me in attempt to keep the juice from dribbling onto my tzotzomatli. I swallow enough to talk. “My mother planted everything.”

“No wonder you want to keep it a secret.”

Gradually, I speed up the pace, and for several minutes we continue through the dark confines of the cave without a word.

Eventually, Neca breaks the silence. “That wasn’t really your fist, was it?”

“Well, I was holding a rock.”

He nods, “That explains it.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret?”

“That Nightmare Neca’s no longer undefeated.”

“Oh,” he clucks his tongue. “Outside of the cage, I’ve lost plenty of fights.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Family. Friends. Personal ghosts. You know, the ones that count the most.”

“Oh.” I swallow, baffled by how easily Neca switches from annoying to tragic. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“You know, share such personal information like that?”

“I’m sorry. It makes you uncomfortable.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I can stop. It’s just—”

“And that,” I shirk my shoulder away from his touch.

He laughs. “Again, I apologize.”

I regret acting so cold, but the instinct has kept Olin and me safe. “It’s not that I don’t like it. Wait, I mean—”

“No need to explain.”

In my discomfort, I’ve increased our pace just short of jogging. I slow down, ensuring I don’t clip my head on a low-hanging rock.

“I forget that we come from different places.” His words are so close, I’m surprised we aren’t bumping into each other with every step.

“What does that mean?”

“No offense, but you and your brother aren’t chadzitzin, not really.”

“None taken.” I’m relieved we agree on at least one thing. “But I still don’t understand.”

“It’s hard to explain.” We duck and weave our way along the passage in silence for several minutes before he picks up where he left off. “There’s little want for secrets in the underground. When people know they haven’t long to live, the thing they want the most is to be known. Everyone wants to be remembered. I think most want to be remembered for the truth rather than some lie.”

“Is that why you fight? To be remembered?”

“In so many words, yes.”

“But psych-fighting? Don’t take this the wrong way, isn’t it all an act?”

“I think of it as more of a story, a true one.”

“I’m sorry, you lost me.” I dodge a jagged overhang. “Watch your head.”

Neca shuffles his feet, adjusting at the last second to avoid cracking his skull. After he breathes deeply, he continues. “The cage is a place to bare it all. Sure, beforehand you try to conceal your strategy, mask your strengths and weaknesses. But each move is another page in the story, a story that must be finished. And the best ones are the ones that don’t hold back.

“The crowd knows it, and so do the fighters. You can feel the epic ones unfolding—the pain and fear and triumph and loss that will teach you something new about yourself. I’m indebted to the cage. It has helped me take all the lessons in life I’ll never get a chance to live and compact them into raw, bloody bursts.”

On that note, we fall silent for several minutes. Having become slightly disoriented during our conversation, I’m not a hundred percent sure we’ve taken all the right turns. On top of that, my heart is hurting. Maybe more so than I want to admit. Listening to Neca bare his soul has made it worse.

Why didn’t he join Masa Academy before he got too old? With his natural talents, his chances of survival would have been better than most. He doesn’t talk like someone who has given up on life. But if that’s really the case, why has he chosen certain death?

I have to admit I don’t understand Nightmare Neca at all. The smirk and confidence I saw yesterday as ego now seem more like honest enthusiasm. But I can’t let myself get sucked in, not now. Neca has been right about lots of things, including the fact Olin and I are not chadzitzin. In five days, the two of us will be leaving Neca and the underground behind forever.

About the time I’m convinced we’ve taken a wrong turn, I recognize telltale signs of a large bat roost, including the squish of guano between my toes. Bats never roost far from an opening. I crouch, pulling Neca down beside me.

I gesture toward the ceiling. He follows my gaze. As we sit, it becomes evident there is a mote more light. Several meters into an expanding chamber, the surface of the gently sloping rock above us pulses with life. One wrong move, and we could be in real trouble.

The bats themselves aren’t the immediate threat. The furthest back are most likely small fruit bats. The larger vampires occupy the best spots, closest to the exit. But causing a mass exodus will announce our presence to anyone on the outside who might happen to be looking in our general direction.

I hold my finger to my lips before touching it to his to ensure he understands the situation. He nods. Slowly, I lead the way, using the wall to stabilize our progress across the slippery floor. I’ve found in times like these, it’s best not to see what you’re stepping in, or what you’re walking beneath.

Looking straight ahead, I proceed steadily and breathe as little as possible. We turn a corner and the light improves. This is where the omnivores and bloodsuckers will be, big hairy things. It’s still raining outside. I hear the hush before I see it, and the white noise masks our progress. Glimpsing a fragment of gray sky, I relax. The first sight of the outside world is always breathtaking after spending hours in near pitch black, even if the outside world is dismal and wet.

Turning to smile at Neca, I slip. I bang my knee on the wall. Scrambling to regain my balance, I plant my second foot too quickly. It shoots out from under me along with the other. Just before my head impacts the wall, I feel a barrier of hot wind blow across my brow. Strong hands clutch my sides, and I’m flying.

The empty black turns to dizzying gray. Finally, I’m on hands and knees, sliding down a muddy slope. I roll onto my back, and Neca’s arm shoots across to steady me. Gradually, we slide to a stop, rivulets of water snaking past. Below, nothing except green forest runs downhill into the vast farmland south of New Teo. Several meters above, I spot the opening of the cave—no bats pouring out of it.

I lie back in the mud and breathe deeply. I’m so giddy with relief, and yet overwhelmed at the same time, I start to laugh. Perhaps it’s my version of one of the cage moments Neca described—a moment when experiences collide to teach me something about myself. Only I’m not sure what I’m supposed to learn.

Either way, Neca joins in, and the two of us lie there laughing in the mud.