“We know. But he took the first step by opening the curtain today. He only let us do that after listening to you and Muncie whooping it up out there all afternoon. And then only after we’d checked every square inch of the window with the radiation detector. He insisted on wearing a mask, though the readings showed clean. I’m glad you didn’t throw yours away, Nyle. So, next we get him out.”

“What if he leaves the room and gets sick again?” Mr. Sobel said radiation damage accumulated in the body. He said the body couldn’t repair the molecules and cell parts already harmed. And each exposure destroyed more.

“Nyle, I’ve stopped checking radiation levels here. Everything in the house is clean. He won’t get sicker.”

“Could you put that in writing?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t mean a thing if I did,” Gran said. “There are no guarantees in this life. You know that.”

I did.

In the last month everything had changed. Everywhere around, little things, big things changed, as the effects of the accident reached North Haversham. Finding safe food and water, getting hold of money, finding substitute teachers to replace the ones who hadn’t come back. Rationing gasoline, finding heating oil, stretching cooking fuel.

But with Ezra, the changes were good. Slowly he shook off the symptoms of radiation sickness. He was getting better, growing stronger.

I pushed all my worries down inside where I wouldn’t have to think about them. Only Ezra mattered. And Ezra was getting better.

Thirteen

I often found Ezra lying back on his bed, exhausted. I knew Gran and Mrs. Trent helped him plenty during the day while I sat through endless hours at school. But they were waiting for me to move him out of that room, and I couldn’t find the right way to do it.

One night Ezra looked particularly tired.

“I can’t stay long,” I said.

“A lot of homework?” Ezra asked.

“In a way. I’m going out to watch a meteor shower. It’s a class assignment.”

“Meteor shower this time of year?”

“They mostly happen during the summer, but my science teacher said to look for one tonight.”

“You’ll tell me about it tomorrow,” Ezra said. “Eh, Shep?”

He had perked up a little, looked interested.

“You could see it yourself.”

“Sure, I could.” Ezra sounded excited. “I could watch it out the window.”

I shrugged. “Not the same out the window.”

“Ah,” Ezra said. “One of those purists, are you?”

“No. I thought you might like seeing it. Really seeing it. Outside. You can’t see much of anything from this window.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ezra said.

“No. I think you’d be.”

Ezra swept his curls off his forehead. “You don’t think I can leave this room, do you?”

I looked down at my stockinged feet.

Ezra threw his blankets aside, stood, grabbed the canes, and barreled toward the doorway. The gauze mask hanging from the dresser mirror swung as he passed. But at the entrance to the room he stopped.