In the same distant part of her head that held the memory of getting from there to here, Tessa knew that the teacher wasn’t to blame, that field trips were frantic and kids were unpredictable, that her daughter would be okay. But all of that was shadowed behind a raw animal fury, something that wanted to roar at everyone who’d let this happen.

She took her place beside Aya and pulled her close. Aya trembled, her face burning red and her nose pouring down her lip. There was a throw-cloth clutched in her hand, unused. Some part of her head was distant, too.

Tessa glared at the people who were supposed to keep her kid safe. ‘Give us a moment,’ she said from behind her teeth.

M Ulven started to say something, but the head teacher laid her hand on his arm. He nodded guiltily – good – and they exited the office. Aya clutched Tessa’s shirt as the door slid shut, sobbing all the harder.

‘It’s all right, honey,’ Tessa said, hugging, rocking. The girl in her arms was so big, and yet still so small. ‘Here, blow your nose.’ A sizable portion of Tessa’s shirt was already soaked with snot. No matter. Ky had done the same to another corner that morning. Her definition of clean hadn’t been the same since the moment a night-shift doctor had placed a blood-smeared newborn in her arms.

Tessa took the throw-cloth from Aya’s hand and pressed it to the kid’s face. ‘Blow.’

Aya did as told, and continued to sob. ‘I was so scared.’

‘I would’ve been, too.’ Tessa rubbed her daughter’s back with the palm of her hand for a few minutes, waiting for Aya to quiet a bit. The sobs slowed, hiccuping out weakly every few seconds. ‘M Ulven told me what happened, but I want to hear it from you. Tell me how it went.’

Aya sniffed. ‘Am I in trouble?’

‘No.’ Under different circumstances, she would have been, but that was a bridge too far right then.

Aya swallowed hard and began to speak. ‘Everybody age nine went on a field trip to water reclamation today.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ Tessa said, handing her the wet cloth. That part she hadn’t needed a recap of, but okay.

‘And Jaime, he – he said – it wasn’t my idea, Mom—’

‘You guys snuck off on your own,’ Tessa said. A pack of four or five of them, was what she’d gotten over the vox.

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah,’ Tessa echoed. She was sure that her daughter had leapt at the chance to abandon a dull field trip for a de facto obstacle course. That was a talk for another day. ‘And then what?’

Aya’s lower lip quivered. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

‘Use the cloth, please.’

Aya gave her nose a perfunctory rub. ‘I don’t know why they – why they – I hate Opal. I hate her!’ Her words were ragged now. Angry.

Tessa raised her eyebrows. ‘Opal was involved in this?’ She didn’t even try to keep the edge out of her voice.

Aya nodded hard. ‘Palmer, too. I hate him also.’

Aya’s most frequent playmates – or they had been, before this. Their parents were going to get hell incarnate on their doorsteps before the day was out, but for the time being, Tessa put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘Tell me what they did,’ she said.

‘Opal told everybody that I’m scared of – that I’m scared of outside. Etty told me that was stupid, and Palmer said I was a baby, and – and they kept being mean, and I told them to stop it but they didn’t, and then—’ The sobs started again.

Tessa put both her arms around Aya now, and let her cry. She knew what had come next. The little bastards had shoved her in a cargo drone port, closed the door, and made her think they were going to pop the hatch. They didn’t have the auth codes for it, but Aya didn’t know that. Her screaming was what brought one of the nearby mech techs running.

‘I hate them,’ Aya said again. ‘I’m not going to school anymore.’

That . . . okay, that wasn’t on the table, but Tessa didn’t think it was the time to argue. ‘They did a horrible thing to you, honey,’ she said. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

‘Why did they do that?’ It was a genuine question, brittle with betrayal.

‘I don’t know. Sometimes . . . sometimes kids think it’s funny to be mean to each other.’ Tessa reached back to the times she’d been teased, to the times she’d teased in response or for no reason at all. ‘I don’t know why.’

‘It wasn’t funny.’

‘No, it most definitely was not funny.’

‘And I hate living on a ship.’

Tessa blinked. This turn wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it surprised her nonetheless. ‘I know you’re scared of outside, but our home is so good. Yeah? It’s safe here. You’re safe with me, and your grandpa, and our hexmates, and our friends—’

‘I hate it.’

‘You know those kids couldn’t have opened the hatch, right? There are codes that—’

‘I don’t want to live on a ship anymore. I want to live on a planet.’

Tessa sighed. ‘Planets have dangerous things, too.’

Aya wiped her nose with her sleeve. She pulled close to her mother, away from the walls, away from the emptiness outside. ‘Not like here.’