I watch Julian out of the corner of my eye as we get dressed after practice. I try to push the growing worry out of my gut while I wait by the trophy case for Julian to be ready to go home.

“I’ve got to cut the grass at Figg and Pastor Ernie’s place this afternoon,” he says, finally coming out of the locker room. “Figg cornered me at lunch.” He smiles a little.

“Okay,” I say, studying his face.

He hands me his key to the front door. “Just in case Birdie isn’t home before you get there. She was meeting with Pastor Ernie again today, remember?”

“I remember. Hey, Julian?” I ask, something really niggling in my gut. “Are we okay?”

“Of course,” he says, flashing me the world’s weakest smile. “I’ll be home in an hour or so, okay?” He glances down the hall and then leans in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. He tries to smile at me, but it never reaches his eyes.

“Okay,” I say, as he wanders down the hall toward Figg’s classroom.

I hold the key in my fist and start to walk toward Ms. Birdie’s in the five o’clock heat. My neck is burning by the time I reach Main Street, which doesn’t bode well for the rest of my walk. What I wouldn’t give for a massive thunderstorm right now.

“Elijah! Wait up!” I hear Camille’s voice behind me.

I turn and wait for her and she runs to catch up.

“Hot enough for you?” she says, out of breath from running.

Why do people in Texas always feel like they have to talk about the weather? It’s hot. It’s always hot. Sometimes it’s surface-of-the-sun hot, and sometimes it’s just equator hot or desert hot, but it’s always hot. Always.

“Fire-breathing-dragon hot,” I tell Camille.

“Has Julian come up with any ingenious plans yet?” she asks, falling in step beside me as we plod down Main Street toward home.

“Not that he’s mentioned to me,” I tell her. “He seems a little off today.”

“He seemed okay walking to school this morning, holding your hand.” She bumps me with her shoulder.

My cheeks burn and my stomach flip-flops.

“What was in my mother’s tostones?” She laughs.

I shrug and hope Camille changes the subject because right now I feel like I want to keep it all to myself. That kiss we shared on Sunday night, and the little ones that followed as we sat on my bed and talked, it feels like something I want to keep close to me for the time being, like it’s fragile enough to need to be protected.

“So I was thinking about something, Elijah.” She takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, what’s that?”