He peered at the sunrise again, squinting against the light.

“Troy, come back with me. Please.”

“Funny how it looks like the sun is rising right now, isn’t it? When really, we’re the ones who are moving.”

“Troy—”

“It doesn’t feel like we’re moving at all, though.”

“I need to ask you something.”

He kept looking at the sunrise, then took a deep breath and shook his head. He turned to face me. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he said, and he grinned.

I cleared my throat and said, “If you had one day left to live, what would you do?”

“I’m not playing your stupid game, Delaney.” He brushed the air away between us.

“It’s not a game.” Then I pulled my hands out of my pockets, held them out in front of me, and showed him. My twitching fingers, the only physical release for the itching that had spread from my brain down my arms.

Troy’s mouth fell open, and then the corners of his lips quirked upward, just for a second. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

“I think . . . I think it’s always been you who was dying,” I said. Because I remembered the feeling, like vertigo, like falling, like nothing else mattered but him, like tunnel vision of the other senses.

He pointed to his head. “The headaches. Probably something left over from the accident. A hemorrhage or a slow bleed or something.” He said it all so matter-of-factly. “But I didn’t know if it was real. If I’d finally be allowed to die, you know?”

If he knew what was wrong with him, maybe there was still time. Maybe help would get here in time. Hoping against hope, I whispered, “Maybe there’s still a chance.”

And suddenly he gripped the side of my arm. The wind howled, and I could barely hear him, but I thought he said, “I think I’m supposed to take you back with me.”

“What?”

He nodded once to himself. “I’m supposed to put you out of your misery.”

“I’m not miserable. I’m alive.”

“You’re a mess. On the inside. You’re dying. You reek of it.” I shook my head and tried to wrench my arm away from him. “You’re sick,” he said.

“I’m getting better.”

“This is hell. Why would you possibly want to stay here?”

I pulled on my arm and turned my body away, just in time to see Decker running down the hill toward the lake. “No,” I said. I flung my free arm over my head and held out my hand, hoping he’d get the message. “Stay back!” I yelled, though he couldn’t have heard me over the wind. Decker listened though. He raced along the side of the trail back and forth, trying to figure out what was going on out here.

I looked back to Troy and shook my head. Because it wasn’t hell. Not always. Sirens blared in the distance, and Troy’s grip tightened on my arm.

He pulled me tight to his body so I had to lean back to look at him. “What the fuck did you do?” he spat in my face.

“I called for help.”

“Why the hell would you do that? You said it yourself, I’m dying. You can’t change that.”

“There’s always hope.”

He let go of my arm, giving me a slight push. I slipped but caught my balance. “You’re a damn fool,” he said. “The hope is killing you.” Then he put his arms out to the side, like a vision of the Crucifixion.

I stepped back, understanding. Troy shook his head at me. “I’m doing you a favor,” he said.

I took another slow, steady step, and then another. Then he tipped his head backward and let gravity take over. He fell, his body stiff, and crashed into the ice. And a thousand cracks spread outward, around me, under me, past me.

The wind blew a voice across the lake. “Run!” it said. The cracks multiplied under my feet. The ice opened under Troy and the lake consumed him.

I spun on the fractured ice.

I ran.

I wasn’t careful. I ran, pounding the ice beneath my feet, propelling myself forward. I pumped my arms, cutting through the wind pushing me backward. With each step, I heard the crack, the ice weakening, the fracture chasing me.

I didn’t look down. I looked in front of me, at Decker, waiting for me on the shore.

“Run!” he yelled again. I was getting closer. Close enough to see his expression. To see the panic in his face, like when he lost control of the minivan on the way home from Les Mis. Close enough to see his hand, reaching out for me.

Take my hand and lead me to salvation