SOMA
Mason sits beside me on the bus, his shoulder rubbing against mine as we go over a bump. My hand clenches tight around his, afraid to let go of him. None of us dares to breathe as the bus glides down the long, dark stretch of road that will lead us out of Shadowspire.
We’re finally leaving.
“It depends on where we settle,” he whispers. “I can fix cars until I save enough to open my auto repair shop.”
“Nice. I’ll probably wait tables.” No one is on the bus with us, yet my voice remains a whisper. “At a diner.”
“Only for a short time, though,” he says.
“Well…”
As my voice trails off, he scoffs and flicks a finger over my forehead. “Dream bigger. You can’t wait tables all your life.”
Says who?
My shoulder hikes in a half-shrug. I’ve served my aunt and cousins for as long as
