“Five.” He stood in front of me, holding the pillow with both hands, like he was prepared to use it. I hiccupped. He threw the pillow at my face, and I caught it as it fell, hugging it to my chest. “Don’t ever cry over a boy again. Unless he transforms into a hyena and tears your leg off. Until that happens, you don’t get to cry.”

I sniffled a few times, wiping my nose on the pillow. “I love him, Jember,” I whispered. It felt good to say out loud.

I was staring at the pillow, so I didn’t see Jember’s expression. But, for a moment, he had nothing to say. “Don’t cry,” he ordered finally. “No little boy is that important.”

He took the pillow from me and threw it back onto the bed. From the corner of my eye I saw his hand move toward me again, but by the time I’d looked up he had dropped it to his side.

“Why don’t you ever touch me?” I managed through my tight throat … although, God help me, it was tight with something more vicious than before. “I mean, I understand, your skin can’t take it. But you wear gloves all the time, and we’re wearing long sleeves. If you wanted to hug me you could. Or a pat on the back, even. God, I’d even accept a slap at this point.”

Jember tightened his lips to a thin line, letting out a slow huff through his nose. “Why do you care, all of a sudden? A few weeks off the street and your good survival habits have already become lax.”

“You raised me. Don’t you have any affection for me at all?”

“Yes, I raised you.” He lowered himself to the bed again. “That’s affection enough.”

“But you love Saba.”

“I never said that, you just assume—”

“Or you did, at one point. You haven’t forgotten those feelings, and you haven’t seen her since I’ve known you. So how can you have raised me for so long and feel absolutely nothing for me?”

“Did you hold on to the amulet you were constructing for the Evil Eye?”

He … completely ignored me. I sniffled, rage throbbing in my throat. “It’s in my bag.”

“You expect me to get up again? Let me see it.”

I pulled out the amulet, unfinished and blood smudged. Pathetic.

Jember took it from me. Flipped it over. Then he started miming the strokes in the air. “Wrong order,” he muttered, then continued. He ended with a long, thoughtful stare at it. “Not bad, girl,” he said, handing it back to me. “You were on the right track.”

“You changed the subject.”

“No, I didn’t. That conversation was finished.”

“I was just hoping that…” I picked at my nails. Why did I feel so nervous? So lost? “I don’t know. That maybe you loved me.”