Brilliant. Not a word people often used about Red or her ideas. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, but it wasn’t a bad feeling like it normally was.‌

“Good job, Red.” Maddy sounded so much like her mom when she said that. “Guys!” she shouted now, turning away from the mirror so Red could see her real face. “Scratch the fake human plan, the sniper will never believe it. We’ve got a better idea!”

“What?” Oliver’s and Reyna’s voices called in unison.

“But we’ve already started building Larry,” Simon followed up.

“There’s a full-length mirror in here,” Maddy called as Oliver approached down the hall. “We put this by the door, at the right angle, he’ll think he’s shooting at one of us, but it will just be our reflection.”

Maddy put it better than Red could have.

Oliver caught sight of himself in the mirror, above Red’s head. She turned to see the real him, a light growing behind his eyes.

He smiled. “Yes. Yes, that could work. It will work. That’s the new plan.” He stepped forward, past Red, narrowing his eyes as he studied the mirror, flicking to the small black framing on each corner. “What’s it attached with? Just those screws? We’ll get that down, easy. Simon, can you pass the screwdriver!”

A clattering sound from the front of the RV, Simon’s voice calling: “Coming, boss.”

Oliver looked down at his sister. “Well done, Maddy. Really good idea.” “Well, actually—” Maddy began.

“—Mom will be proud of you,” Oliver continued, patting her on the shoulder. “When we get out of here, she’ll be so proud of you. That’s a Lavoy plan if ever I heard one.”

Maddy dropped her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. Red watched her, a tightening in her chest, shifting with her ribs.

“Thanks,” Maddy said, quietly. Nothing more.

Red didn’t mind, though, or maybe she did. What was that too-full feeling at the back of her throat, then? Or that hollow one in her gut? It was fine. Maddy could have that plan, if it would make her mom proud. Red had her own.

“Special delivery,” Simon said, jogging up the length of the RV, screwdriver held out in front of him.

“Excuse me,” Red said, shuffling past Simon as he reached the bedroom, Reyna walking in behind him. A look passed between them, Reyna and Red, as they converged. Red wasn’t sure what it meant but she returned it anyway.

“You okay, Red?” Arthur asked, standing in the kitchen.

Red joined him, leaning back against the counter, arms hugged around her ribs, to protect them.

“Just dandy,” she said.

“So,” he said, nodding his head back the way she’d just come. “Using a mirror to reflect one of us to bait a shot,” he summarized, again, better than Red ever could. “That’s smart,” he added.

“The Lavoys are very smart,” Red said.

“Want to know a secret?” Arthur said, his voice dipping into whispers, eyes flashing from behind his glasses. “I think you’re smarter.”

Red smiled in spite of herself. Had he been listening to her and Maddy in the bedroom? Or was he just trying to be nice? Smart. Another word Red didn’t belong in a sentence with. She had potential, though, remember. Had it, but didn’t use it, that was why people said it.

“I think you’re wrong,” she said, voice flat, barricade up.

“I think you’re lying,” Arthur retorted, knocking away at it.

She looked up at him, that same drunk-warm feeling behind her eyes. Why was he so kind to her? And why did that make her want to be un-kinder back? Because she didn’t deserve it, that was why. She was just Red. Just Red and Just Arthur, and they should probably just stay that way, because she didn’t know how to be somebody’s someone.

“That’s okay,” Arthur said, like he could read the thoughts racing behind her eyes. But he couldn’t, he didn’t know what lived back there, in her head. “Your secret is safe with me. It always is.”

“I don’t have secrets.” She hid behind a smile again. Oh, stop it, grinning like an idiot.

“International spy?” Arthur asked. “I wish.”

“Your real name is Agatha?” “Only if yours is Edgar.” “Secret frog-racing champion?” “You got me,” she said.

“Nice.” He smiled too, but he didn’t grin like an idiot. He wore it better. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

“Won’t tell anyone what?” Simon said, walking down the corridor, knocking into the wall on one side and the bunks on the other. How did he seem more drunk again?

“Red’s big secret,” Arthur replied.

“Right, move, move, move,” Oliver raised his voice as he walked backward, carrying one end of the mirror, Reyna on the other side. They scattered, out of the way, Red moving over to the sofa and dropping down. It was nice to sit, her legs bone-tired. But she knew it wouldn’t last long. The purple plastic mop was lying in front of her, already snapped in half, the mopping end removed.

Oliver and Reyna gently lowered the mirror down, close to the front door, Oliver wrapping one arm around it to take its weight.

“Let’s think this through,” he said, motioning with his head for them all to gather around.

See, not long at all. Red stood up, Simon on one side, Maddy on the other, the three of them repeated again in the mirror.

“Right, so if someone is standing there”—Oliver motioned to the gap in front of the closet, now missing its door—“they aren’t in the line of fire, they’re protected by the wall of the RV. And if the mirror is in front of the door, angled that way, the sniper will see their reflection, right?”

“Science, bitch!” Simon erupted then. “Simon,” Maddy warned.

“Sorry,” he sniffed. “But we’re in an RV. I was going to have to say it one time. Think I’d rather be cooking meth, though. Less risky.”

Oliver shot him a look, hardening his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Yes, that works,” Reyna said, walking around to the front side of the mirror. “But only if the sniper is somewhere in this direction.” She held out both arms in a wedge, a quarter circle, one arm facing straight out through the door, the other toward the back of the RV. “If he’s this way”—she gestured out through the front right of the RV—“he won’t see the reflection. And that’s if he’s even on this side at all.”

“Well, of course this only works if he’s on this side,” Oliver said. “We’ll have to repeat it in one of the windows on the other side if it doesn’t work.”

Reyna didn’t listen to him, continuing with her own thought trail. “If there was a way to pivot the mirror quickly, and someone else could be standing here”—she gestured to the small gap between the sofa and the front door

—“then their reflection could be seen this way.” She held out her arms again, another quarter circle. “And we’d cover this whole side.”

Oliver nodded. “Right, okay. How do we pivot the mirror? And, saying that, how do we hold the mirror up? No one can be standing behind or beside it; they’d get hit.”

Simon darted forward, scooping up the broken mop from the floor, holding up Larry’s arms. “Could we attach these, as handles? Got a whole roll of duct tape.”

Oliver snapped his fingers at him. “Yes. You get started on that. I want one on either side, at the top corners. Wrap the tape all the way around multiple times so it’s really secure. And use some extra tape to lengthen the handles; we want them as long as possible so no one has to stand in the line of fire. Reyna, maybe you should help,” he added, watching Simon struggle to find the end of the duct tape.

Reyna slid the broken mop handles out from under Simon’s arm, and Maddy stepped forward to relieve him of the tape. They got to work, the duct tape droning like an angry wasp as Maddy pulled lengths and lengths from the roll.

“Wouldn’t we need to slide the mirror over too, Reyna?” Oliver said. “Like a foot or so, to get the correct angle.”

Reyna looked down, studying the floor for a moment as she held up one handle for Maddy to tape.

“Yeah,” she said. “Because in its first position, the mirror needs to be slightly off-center, to the left to catch the person standing there.”

“Thought so.” Oliver nodded to himself. “We need to put the mirror on something then, something that slides easily. Oh.” He gestured for Arthur to step forward and hold the mirror, moving away to the front of the RV and the abandoned closet door still resting against the dashboard. “This,” he hissed, bringing it over.

That won’t slide easily, Red thought. “That won’t slide easily,” Arthur said.

“Easier than the mirror against the ground,” Oliver countered.

“You almost need something round under it.” Arthur hugged the mirror. “So that it rolls, like a skateboard.”

“Good idea,” Reyna said, testing how secure the first handle was. Everyone had good ideas—not Red, though. She stood back, useless,

unused. She hoped the others didn’t think she was doing it intentionally. She couldn’t even think of anything round, everything that popped into her head was full of sharp edges. Including that fucking pattern in that fucking curtain. “I got it!” Simon shouted, too loud, darting behind the mirror to the refrigerator. He opened it and came back with his hands full. A can of beer

clenched in both fists. He held them out to Oliver. “That works,” Oliver said. “Grab four more.”

Simon grinned, disappearing behind the refrigerator door again. “See,” he muttered, “this is why it’s stupid that they tell teenagers not to drink. Drinking saves lives.”

That hadn’t worked with Red’s dad, though, had it? Taking whatever life he’d had left after Mom.

Simon passed the rest over, and Oliver placed the beer cans down on their sides, a few feet in front of the entrance, spacing them equally. Picking up the closet door again, he placed it on top of the cans, parallel to the front door. Sliding it forward and back for good measure, nodding to himself.

“We’re done too,” Reyna said, not holding on to the mirror anymore, just the handle that side, Maddy on the other, testing it. Reams and reams of duct tape were wrapped around the top of the mirror and the purple plastic, binding them together. It was ugly, but it worked. “Yeah, it will stay up,” Reyna said needlessly.

“All right, let’s put it on the door, then. In its first position.” Oliver picked the mirror up by its middle. He turned on his heels and shifted his arms, carefully balancing the mirror on the center of the closet door, pointing at a diagonal, at the space between the closet and the front door.

“Simon, stand there, will you?” he asked.

Simon did, commenting, “Handsome as ever,” as he stared at his reflection.

“Reyna, will you hold that side?” Oliver said, taking the purple handle on the right while she took the one on the left. They fiddled for a moment, making sure the mirror stood up straight.

“Maddy, stand by the front door for a second.”

She did, winding around Red on her way. She pressed against the door, standing as far back as she could.

“What do you see?” Oliver asked her.

“I see Simon,” she said, trying not to react as Simon winked at her through the mirror.

“Okay, now Arthur stand there, by the sofa.”

Arthur shuffled sideways into the gap.

“Okay, so let’s see.” Oliver used his foot, pushing the closet door several inches toward Reyna, the mirror moving with it, one beer can rolling free. “Now, Reyna, pull your handle forward while I pull mine back.” The bottom of the mirror protested, scraping against the door, but it shifted into its new angle. “And now what do you see, Maddy?”

“Arthur,” she said, which, judging by her brother’s reaction, was the correct answer.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s clumsy, but it works. Arthur, can you come hold this?” Arthur stepped forward, taking the handle from Oliver, the mirror tipping forward as it passed hands.

“The only problem is,” Oliver continued, both hands free now, one moving to his chin, “I think the two people being the reflections also have to control the mirror. There’s no space for anyone else, and the rest of us need to be at the windows, recording to find the muzzle flash when he shoots. So, which two are going to be our reflections?”

The room was silent, only the fizz of static to mark the passing seconds

by.

“Well, it can’t be Maddy or me,” Oliver said, gaze moving across them all.

“We’re the ones he’s holding hostage. He won’t take a shot at either of us.” Arthur cleared his throat. “The sniper never actually said that.”

“No, but he wouldn’t, would he?”

Arthur didn’t seem to have an answer for that one. Well, that left all the non-Lavoys, then. What else had Red expected?

“Simon, Arthur, it should be you two,” Oliver said, brows drawing low, darkening his eyes with shadows.

“Why me?” Simon glared back. “Who died and left you in charge?”

“You really want to make Reyna and Red do it?” Oliver replied. “Besides, you’re the actor here, aren’t you?”

Simon shrugged. “Act like it, then.”

Oliver looked over his shoulder at Arthur, checking to see if he had any complaints. Arthur nodded his head, just once, chewing on the inside of his

cheek. He would do it.

“Right, okay, Simon, you’re there by the closet, Arthur by the sofa. Take the handle, Simon, there we go, let’s practice this a couple of times. So Arthur, I think you’ll have to open the door, push it hard so it opens the whole way. And then once it’s done, Simon you’ll have to close it.”

Simon coughed. “How am I going to close the door without walking down the steps right into his line of sight?”

Oliver faltered, a good point there.

“Rope,” Red said quietly, a stupid suggestion really because they didn’t have any.

“We can make one out of clothes,” Maddy added, and now it made sense. “There’s some sweatshirts in the top of my bag,” Arthur said. “You can

use those. On my bunk.”

“Okay,” Red said, Maddy giving her the go-ahead eyes. She walked around the mirror contraption, past the kitchen to the bunks. She stepped one foot up on the bottom bunk to reach Arthur’s bag, sitting there on the empty plastic frame of his bed.

“Right,” Oliver was saying behind her. “Let’s reset the mirror into its first position here and run it a couple of times so you know what you’re doing.”

Red unzipped the bag, spreading the two canvas sides. Arthur had folded his clothes, not quite as neat as Maddy, and not quite as strict.

“So the door opens,” Oliver continued. “We leave it a few seconds on Simon. Arthur, I think you can hold the mirror on your own now, so Simon can step into view. Simon, make it look like you’re walking down the steps or something, don’t just stand there.”

“Walking, walking,” Simon replied angrily, the sound of his sneakers stomping on the floor.

There were a few baseball shirts at the top of one of Arthur’s piles, more blues, more grays, one dark red. Red pulled out three of them, studied the lengths across the sleeves, and then grabbed one more to be sure.

She stepped down, the shirts bundled in her arms. They smelled clean, and yet somehow they still smelled like him. The same as the hoodie he’d let her borrow after New Year’s Eve when he dropped her home. She’d slept in it

that night, under her coat, and in the morning it only smelled like her. Arthur had never asked for it back. Maybe he was used to losing things too.

Red walked over to the dining table, Maddy joining her there, picking up the first shirt.

“Now, Arthur, kick the door across. About eight inches, I think. Whoa, stop, that’s it.”

Red picked up two of Arthur’s shirts by their sleeves, knotting them together at the ends and pulling them tight.

“Arthur, you pull the handle back, Simon, grab yours, pull it forward.

Yes. Now, Arthur, get back in position, Simon can hold the mirror now.”

Maddy took Red’s shirts, tying them to the two of hers and stretching the jumble out to its full width. “Rope,” she said, a pinch at the corners of her eyes, the face she made when she said sorry. Not about the rope, Red knew, about the mirror plan.

“It’s fine,” Red told her. “I don’t care.” “How did it look, Reyna?” Oliver asked.

Red looked up to see Reyna shooting a thumbs-up from the front door. “You done with the rope?” Oliver’s eyes were on them.

Maddy jumped up with it, hurrying over to tie it to the metal handle on the inside of the front door. Double knot. Then passing the other end to Simon, who was shaking his head for some reason.

“Okay, let’s get this over with. We need to leave the lights on this time, so the sniper can see the reflection. Red, you take the window behind the sofa, this corner, point your phone in a diagonal toward the back of the RV.”

Red followed the order, phone ready in her hand, resting one knee on the sofa, just a few inches behind Arthur.

“Maddy, take the same window, the other end, but point your phone straight forward.”

The sofa sank as Maddy planted both knees on the other end, glancing at Red.

“Reyna, the passenger-side window, aiming your phone diagonally to the front. And I’ll take the rearview camera again.”

He walked over to the dashboard behind Reyna, dropping to his knees, head lowered to the screen. Red watched him and something stirred in her head, switching Oliver out with someone else. Didn’t he know people sometimes died like that, on their knees?

“Press record,” he said.

Red thumbed the red button on her screen. The birdsong high-pitched beeps from her phone, answered by Maddy’s, then Reyna’s.

“Get into position.”

Red pulled the bottom corner of the mattress up, sliding the hand with the phone through to the unknown outside, her wrist pressing against a shard of broken glass, but there was nothing she could do about it. She pointed her phone in the right direction and looked away, eyes on the back of Arthur’s head.

Red held her breath, counting the seconds. “Is everyone ready?”