It was actually kind of a relief to have Teagan excuse her from the social niceties, and Maizie shot her a grateful look. Dad always insisted that it was important to be polite, especially with adults, and she really did try. Right now, though, it just felt so unimportant.
"Yeah, everyone keeps telling me the same thing. That I shouldn't worry because Dad's really strong and that'll be a help to him." Meaningless reassurances, she'd assumed, the kind of thing you told a kid anytime something went wrong. But Teagan really didn't seem like the type to go in for empty words. Not to mention the fact that she probably had a lot of experiences with the nasty side of the zombie apocalypse that Maizie, sheltered at the LBJ, just didn't.
"It nice here," she answered, looking in the same direction Teagan did. "I mean, kinda weird with all the open air and everything, but that's just 'cause I don't get out much. Must be hard living in tents all the time, though."
For a minute she could almost picture what it might be like to live in the Dog Park. Then the sounds of laughter floated over to them from somewhere inside the camp and Maizie turned away again. Not quite fast enough to hide the guilty look that passed over her face. She shouldn't have been daydreaming when Dad was suffering.
"I thought so," she said, reading the patch that Teagan pointed to. "Were you always a Hellhound? Or just since the zombies came?"