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Eliansteppedinfrontofheraslightly,bragbothhandsonthechair’sarmrests—boxioaspaceshecouldn’tescape.
“Youthinkyou’reinapositioiaterightnow?”Hisvoicewasn’tdomineeringthewayitusuallywas.Hesloweditdownonpurpose.“Youneededawalljusttowalkfromthewaitiohere.Areyousureyou’llstillhavethestrengthtogetyourselfbacktoShilinafteryoutakemedie?”
Craturnedhergazeaway,lipspressedtight,refusingtoanswer.
“Ifyoudohefeverdowntoday,youwon’tmakeittosorrow.Youmightevenmessupweek’smidterms.”Elian’seyesdroppedththand—thethumbedihabletape.“Andthathand—”
“Youhaven’tpracticedfortwodaysalready.Ifyoudoterfast,whatareyougoingtodotwomonthsfromnow—goonstageandpyairbass?Arewethrowingourdeaway?”
Craclosedhereyesandtookaloh.
Whensheopehemagaiilllihere—thin,impossibletohide—butthedeathgriponthearmrestshadloosened.
“…Ithurts,”shemuttered.
Eliancould.Thefaicurvetouchedtheerofhismouth.
Hedidn’tughather.Hestraightened,reachedoutagain—thistimemutlerthanbefore.
“Gotit.I’lltelltheobecareful.”
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