Evenifthesituationwasurgent,hecouldn’tbringhimselftodosomethingthatintimate—andthateasytogossipabout—likescoopioabridalcarryorthrowiohisback.

        Sohesettledforanawkward,exhaustingpromise.

        Onehandlockedaroundherupperarm.Theotherhalf-edaroundhershoulders.Hemovedherforwardinaposturethatwasalmosthalf-drag,half-carry.

        “Hot…”Cra’sforeheadpressedagainstthesideofElian’sshoulder,aestedweaklywithoutmeaningto.

        Onweekendssheusuallywht,casualclothestocramschool.Thefevermediehermotherhadforceddowhroatstillhadn’ttake.Shewasn’tsweatingatall—butthroughtheloosecottonshirt,Eliancouldfeelhhteninglydry-hotherskinwas,likeafurnaceburningwithoutsmoke.Herlegs,bareunderdenimshorts,weresoweaktheycouldbarelypushofftheground.Everystepfeltlikewalkingoncotton.

        Elianwasn’tdoieither.

        In30°C86°Fheat,hehadCra’sbackpack—stuffedwithheavyreferencebooks—slungoverhisshoulder,andhewashaulingafeverishgirlwhocouldhimevenifshewao.Afteronlyafewsteps,sweatsliddownhisjawline,soakingintohisoversizedbckT-shirt.

        “Shutupandsaveyourstrengthforbreathing,”Elianshroughchedteeth.Histonewasharsh,butthearmaroundhershoulderstightenedslightly—quietly—soshewouldn’tslip.

        Hesteeredtoa7?Elevenattheer.

        Thestore’sair-ditioninghitlikeasmallsalvation.Elianpressedherdownontoachairilerestareabytheregister,threwoutawarning—“Ifyoutrytorun,you’redead”—andstrodestraightfortherefrigeratedse.

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