In front of us, Eli’s gait has slowed, becoming wobbly. His shoulders are pulled around his ears. The night carries his cold breaths upward. He stops short, turning around with a plastic smile and glassy eyes.
“Let’s go get ice cream!”
Zion pauses beside me. He shakes his head. “All the best places are closed, EJ.”
“Aren’t you already full?” I wonder. At the diner, Eli devoured Zion’s half of the pie slice. I ate the other half so I wouldn’t have to tell this boy why I need to keep my distance.
Did you know Guardians are cowards? It’s true. I’m divine proof.
“Let’s go to the movies,” Eli suggests. “There’s a new Marvel film—”
“There’s always a new Marvel film,” Zion says tiredly. The cold’s drawn a redness to his ears and cheeks. “EJ, we’re almost—”
“Or a park!” Eli shouts, cutting Zion off. “Maybe someone left a ball behind. We can shoot hoops. I bet your layup is still trash.” He’s bouncing on his toes, keeping his back to one direction: his parents’ top-floor apartment on the next block.
I whisper, “Eli...”
This night needs to end.
I need to end this—whatever—with Zion.
Eli squeezes his eyes shut. Wetness is already sealing them. “Let’s keep walking and—”
“Elias,” Zion says calmly. I’ve never heard him use his brother’s full name. “We need to get you home. Mom and Dad—”
“Don’t call them that!” Eli’s voice echoes on the nearly empty street. Only a young couple peeks over their shoulders to observe before ambling around a corner. “They’re not Mom and Dad. It’s not yourhome. Homes aren’t places where you’re hated for—for being who you are.”
His face is a wave of anger and resentment. Each inhale is accompanied by a tremor. I drink in his pain. That’s what happens when Eli’s in danger—every piece of me absorbs it until I’m at his side, protecting him.
But I can’t move.
This I know—when Eli’s this close to a meltdown, every fractional movement is a catalyst for a more eruptive response.
“C’mon, EJ.” Zion edges forward. I catch his elbow. He glares at me. “I got this.”
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I—”
“Zion, trust me, youdon’t.”
He ignores me, turning back to Eli. “I’m sure they won’t be mad about what happened today. I’ll take you upstairs—”
“You won’t.” Eli’s still shaking his head, eyes so tightly shut, his entire face is pinched. “You’ll walk me to the elevator. Say goodbye. You won’t come up. You know they don’t want you there like they won’t want—”
He almost says it. But only another whimper breaks through those chapped lips. He and Zion are two halves of a heart broken by careless adults.
“EJ,” Zion tries cautiously. “It’s not like that for you.”
“It is,” whines Eli. He stomps a foot with every word. As if he could break through Earth’s core and be somewhere else. Anywhere else. I need Zion to leave, to stop this pull that has me holding him back rather than crashing into Eli’s side.
“EJ.” Zion leans forward.
My grip tightens. “Please, don’t.” Zion whips his head in my direction. His breaths come fast, plumes of white fog. His muscles are coiled, ready to attack. But I don’t let go. I whisper, gently, “He needs—”
“He’smylittle brother,” growls Zion. “He needs me. Not a Guardian.”
“If you say the wrong thing. If you fail him—”
