Her mom didn’t trust them, but her mom didn’t trust any guys. She used to just have it in for white guys. (“White guys are the worst. They rap 2 Live Crew lyrics at you and expect you to laugh.”) But ever since she and Elena’s dad had separated four years ago, her mom had taken a stand against any and every man, especially where Elena was concerned. “Learn from my mistakes,” she said.

Learn what? Elena wondered. Avoid men? Avoid love? Avoid radiologists who buy movie-replica lightsabers?

Usually when her mom gave her warnings like this, Elena would just give her a thumbs-up. Like, No prob, Bob.

Because it really wasn’t a problem. Avoid men? Done! This had literally never been an issue for her. When other girls complained about how to deal with unwanted male attention, Elena wouldn’t feel jealous exactly, but she would feel curious—how does one go about attracting such attention? And is it impossible to attract just some of it? Just a small, manageable amount? Or was attention from boys all or nothing, like a tap that, once you’d found it, you could never turn off?

Elena’s teeth were starting to chatter, and it wasn’t even that cold out. But the cold of the ground had crept through her sleeping bag, through her jeans, through her long underwear and tights, and settled into her bones.

“You’ve gotta put something under your sleeping bag,” Gabe said. “Or get off the ground.”

She looked where his butt must be. He lifted up the side of his sleeping bag. He was sitting on cardboard, two or three pieces.

“Does that work?” she asked.

“It helps,” he said.

“Well, I don’t have a spare box on me . . .”

Gabe sighed. “Hold my spot.”

He got up and shuffled out of his sleeping bag, walking down the street and disappearing behind the building. When he came back, he was carrying a few big cardboard boxes. Raisinets. Sour Patch Kids.

“You take mine,” he said.

“What?”

“Move up, unless you don’t want to sit between us. Troy’s an excellent windbreak.”

Elena shuffled over to Gabe’s pile of boxes, pulling her things with her. Gabe quickly made himself a new nest and settled down again.

“It does help,” Elena said. “Thanks.”

She tested her instincts, to see if she felt any less safe sitting between these two strangers than she did on the end. No. She felt about the same. “You just want me to have to listen to Troy’s stories,” she whispered.

“We can switch back in the morning,” Gabe said.

“Do you know him?” she asked. “Troy?”

“I didn’t know him before,” he said, “but I have been sitting next to him for four days.”

Gabe picked up his book.

“Thanks,” Elena said again.

Gabe didn’t answer.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015