Chap­ter 18 cen­ters on a deep­en­ing atmos­phere of fear and urgency. News cir­cu­lates that Cal­lie Mon­trose hasn’t returned home from school, ignit­ing con­cern across Mon­ta Clare. Nor­ma, sens­ing some­thing omi­nous, retrieves a Colt revolver from the garage—its cold met­al weight speak­ing to the seri­ous­ness of the moment. After ver­i­fy­ing that it’s loaded, she places it in her night­stand draw­er, an unspo­ken acknowl­edg­ment that the town may no longer be as safe as it once felt. Mean­while, Saint read­ies her­self for a secre­tive jour­ney. She care­ful­ly fills her small ruck­sack with a flash­light, her trust­ed sling­shot, a book of match­es, and an old jack­knife passed down from her grand­fa­ther. The con­tents reflect a child’s attempt to con­front very adult fears. On her way out, Saint stops by the Macauley home, where she finds Ivy passed out, sur­round­ed by evi­dence of neglect. Qui­et­ly, Saint cov­ers Ivy with a blan­ket and slips into Patch’s room to retrieve his pis­tol, whis­per­ing to her­self a solemn vow: “I’ll bring you home.”

Her jour­ney then inter­twines with a recent memory—one more inno­cent and bright. Not long ago, Patch had shown her a spe­cial birth­day gift—a navy hus­sar waist­coat he’d found stashed in his mother’s clos­et. Its fine details and stitched brass but­tons impressed Saint, and she couldn’t help but admire how Patch car­ried him­self with new­found con­fi­dence while wear­ing it. Their ban­ter that day had been play­ful and filled with laugh­ter, a rare escape from the emo­tion­al heav­i­ness that oth­er­wise cloud­ed their lives. Saint often thought about how their friend­ship had grown stronger with each shared secret and every moment of mis­chief. Even while know­ing Patch strug­gled with bur­dens at home that a boy his age should­n’t have to car­ry, she felt anchored to him in a way that defied sim­ple expla­na­tion.

They’d often spent time pre­tend­ing to be adven­tur­ers, build­ing sto­ries around pirates and swash­buck­lers like Hen­ry Every, whose lega­cy fas­ci­nat­ed Patch. These tales served not only as enter­tain­ment but also as emo­tion­al armor—a way to deflect from the painful parts of their real­i­ty. Saint recalls one after­noon when they tried, and failed, to steal hon­ey from a bee­hive. Patch’s swelling face and the days he spent away from school after­ward became one of many mem­o­ries that were equal parts absurd and endear­ing. These shared mis­ad­ven­tures added tex­ture to their bond, fill­ing in the gaps where words failed them. Their con­nec­tion wasn’t built on dec­la­ra­tions, but rather on experiences—on moments of laugh­ter, pain, and qui­et under­stand­ing.

Want­i­ng to sur­prise Patch, Saint had spent weeks search­ing flea mar­kets and antique shops for the per­fect gift. Even­tu­al­ly, she found it: a one-shot flint­lock repli­ca gun, com­plete with hand-carved wood­en detail­ing. When she gave it to him, Patch’s eyes lit up in a way she hadn’t seen before. He hugged her with­out hes­i­ta­tion, bury­ing his face in her shoul­der, whis­per­ing a thank-you that car­ried more emo­tion than words could express. That hug sealed their promise to always look out for one anoth­er, no mat­ter the obsta­cles ahead. The world they inhab­it­ed was full of insta­bil­i­ty, but in that moment, they had carved out a sliv­er of some­thing pure.

The chap­ter clos­es with Saint cling­ing to that sense of pur­pose. She walks with a heavy heart but unwa­ver­ing resolve, armed not just with tools but with the mem­o­ry of that embrace and the silent promise behind it. Though the weight of loss and dan­ger looms large, she press­es on, deter­mined to bring her friend back from what­ev­er dark­ness has tak­en hold of him. In a world that often seems indif­fer­ent to suf­fer­ing, Sain­t’s actions shine as a qui­et but pow­er­ful form of resis­tance. Her courage, though wrapped in a child’s form, reflects a strength that many adults would strug­gle to muster. Through her eyes, read­ers are remind­ed that even the small­est acts of brav­ery can car­ry the weight of entire lives.