16
“What’s wrong?” I whisper to Ben as he stares out of the caravan window. I try to see what he’s looking at, but all I can make out is a pitch-black campsite, without a soul in sight.
He doesn’t answer, so I pause the movie on Katrina’s iPad, and rest it down on the bed. “Come on. Talk to me.”
‘Don’t like this place,’ he finally tells my head.
“But we’re safe. The bad people can’t get to us here.”
A quiet grunt leaves his mouth as he twists around to face me, his weight nearly shoving me off the top bunk. “Keep still, Ben. You’re gonna push me off the bed.”
‘Sorry.’
“That’s okay,” I whisper. “Look, I know it’s tough living somewhere new, but these people can help us, and feed us. Out there is dangerous. Lots of bad people. Lots of guns.”
‘Guns here, too.’
“Yes, but we need those
