Page 86 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

turned over—clunky, painful. Nate unplugged the engine
block heater from an extension cord trailing from the garage.
He spotted Greta. “Rebus doesn’t like the cold,” he said,
blowing out a cloud of frosty air. He wore an orange tuque
with a black pom-pom, tufts of hair jutting out from beneath
it. Greta noticed ice crystals forming on his eyebrows.
“Can we get a ride?” she asked. “Our bus passes expired,
and we don’t have the money to buy more.” After what he’d

seen of their family, she was sure he could handle this level
of honesty.
“No problem. I wondered why you didn’t ask sooner.”
She sat in the front, and Ash hunkered in the back.
Nate reached past the steering wheel and turned up the
heat. But Rebus didn’t really have heat. Not truly. More like
blowing around air a degree or two warmer than outdoors. ADVANCE READING COPY

Even so, Ash’s face was a nearly human color by the time they
got to school.
In the school parking lot they wove a path to the door,
stepping in snowy grooves flattened by tires and footsteps.
They each meandered on their own path. Greta watched the
back of Nate’s head, how he didn’t pull the tuque off before
walking through the back entrance.
“Nate!” she called.
He turned and waited for her, trailing behind him in the

busy hallway. “If you’re not doing anything at lunch, why
don’t you sit with us?”
He smiled, his teeth even whiter than his pale skin.
“Okay. I’ll find you in the cafeteria.”

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