“They have one of those

freaky twin connections.

Can read each other’s minds.

Plus the fact that James is deaf

makes me feel awkward.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I know it’s not cool

to say that, but there it is.

I said it anyway.

Doesn’t help I live half-time

with Dad and Jennifer.

I used to love the regular breaks

from gluten-phobic diets and

silent dinner conversations.

Until Paul and Mom had Trevor.

Now I feel like I’m missing out.

I want my own freaky connection

with someone who can read my mind.”

Before the evacuation, Maddie focuses on the drawbacks of her family situation: She has to switch between houses each week and doesn’t feel like a complete part of either household. She envies others’ abilities to spend more time with each other and not lead a nomadic lifestyle. The stakes change when Maddie gets abandoned and regrets ever complaining about her family.

“Convoys come through every day now

Mom always has the news on

listening for information

about checkpoints and delays

and ‘protective action’ curfews

whatever that means.

I personally don’t get why everyone is so uptight.

It’s just a bunch of trucks moving stuff around

not World War III.”

As the novel’s 12-year-old first-person narrator, Maddie has limited knowledge of, or interest in, the political situation around her that leads up to the evacuation. The reader learns only what Maddie learns; there is a vague sense that something is amiss, but it’s unclear what. Maddie even seems to think the news is boring and irrelevant to her life. This cavalier attitude toward the news and the world of politics foreshadows a shift that is about to occur: As soon as Maddie gets abandoned, she becomes very interested in the news but isn’t able to glean much useful information. The news seems to remain deliberately vague, perhaps because, as Maddie learns at the end, the imminent threat is not real.