“Hey, Tommy, hand me those cookies over there,” Jeremy said.

“Those are for the ladies’ snack time later,” Tommy Nogales sighed. “If there aren’t enough to go around, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jeremy said. He wiped his hands off on his apron and picked two of the day-old Mrs. Fields’ chocolate chip cookies from the tray, wrapped them in a napkin and put them in his pocket.

The girl was seated by herself at the end of one of the tables, spooning the chicken soup into her mouth. She ate quickly, small animal bites, constantly scanning for threats. She locked eyes with Jeremy as he approached, grabbed her bread roll and stuffed it in one of her coat pockets, ready to run for it if she had to.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, sitting down across from her. He slid the cookies across the table. “Don’t tell the others I did this, or they’ll get jealous.”

The girl’s eyes were a watery pale green, like pond water. They went flat as Jeremy spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have come.”