Her head hung, “I… don’t think I can leave like that. I wanted to, before all of this, but my zaydee, my grandpa, he refuses to leave, and he can’t take care of himself when the city’s like this. It’s why we didn’t evacuate.”
Zaydee? Sounds like an implication of Charlotte’s ancestry and culture. I’m not going to google it in case I’m wrong and it’s just a Worm thing (though I find that unlikely), so I’m going to guess that it’s a word from a Native American language of some variety.
“You could tell your mom and grandpa some of what happened. That the Merchants got you, that you got away, that you don’t feel safe here.”
Yeah, if the grandpa remains stubborn after that, I don’t think I’ll like him very much.
She buried her face in her knees. “No.”
Oh? Not willing to tell them about it, is that the issue?
“Okay. So that leaves option two.”
Here we go. If option one is leave, option two is stay. And I don’t just mean in the city.
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