I laugh and shake my head. I shove some of my blond hair back when it falls into my eyes. “He’s a singer. Song’s called ‘I Won’t Back Down.’”

“Never heard of him.”

“My dad likes him. He has a tape of one of his concerts, and we watched it last night. Guess it got stuck in my head.”

I head over to where Waylon waits for me on the tree stump. He’s normally only an inch taller than me, but right now, he’s got about a foot on me.

I lift his crown made of weeds and grin. “May I, Your Majesty?”

He rolls his eyes but still bends forward to allow me to place the crown on his head. The green is startling against his black hair, and when he lifts his head, I can’t help but notice how big and bright his hazel eyes are today. They practically glow.

My fingers pause in his hair, and he seems to go still. I don’t even think he’s breathing.

“You’re gonna have dirt and bugs all over you,” I whisper.

His mouth twitches. “Don’t be such a city boy.”

I drop my hands and take a step back.

He straightens and spreads his hands once more. “How do I look?”

Pretty, I think. But I know I can’t say that, so instead, I tell him, “Ridiculous. The most ridiculous king I’ve ever seen.”

He smiles and something seems to...crack right open inside me.

I had a lava lamp once. Dropped it. Shattered it. There was nothing left but chips of glass and gooey green slime.

I kind of feel like that.

Like broken glass.

Like goo.

I don’t know what it means, and I’m afraid to ask him if he feels it too. So instead, I just walk around him, inspecting the woods and pretending as if I’m some kind of knight. Sworn to protect my king from any enemies who might want to dethrone him.

“We could make this our Terabithia,” he says after a while.

I glance up at him, unsure what to make of the far-off look in his eyes as he takes in the surrounding woods.

“A place that is just ours. A secret place no one knows about.”

My throat feels oddly tight, and it takes a couple tries to swallow. “We?”

He tenses, then ducks his head. Red creeps over his neck, but I tell myself it’s just the sun’s heat beating down at him. It’s still cold, but it is bright today. And he’s standing right under it, lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Yeah,” he whispers eventually, “unless you—I mean, if you don’t—”

Without thinking, I take two long strides, bringing me right up to him. I’m close enough that the tip of my nose brushes his coat. I crane my head back. “Way?”