of my family hovers above me, plus Charlotte's best friend, Maddy, who's had a weird crush on me since forever. Feelings I obviously don't return, but her presence adds another layer to the embarrassment.

"My poor baby," Mom says and places an ice pack on my forehead. I can tell she's holding back what she really wants to say, which is probably excess concern. I'm stretched out on the living room couch, boogers streaming down my face. Yeah, only I'm dumb enough to pass out in the snow and give myself a cold. I guess Mom noticed I wasn't in my room last night (yet somehow didn't see Charlotte was gone) and ran through the neighbourhood in a frenzy trying to find me. I can only imagine her horror upon seeing my corpse in Finley Park this morning.

"God, Mom," Ollie says, "stop treating him like he's five."

"I second that," I mutter. For once, my big brother and I agree.

"That's it." Mom points her finger in the air. "We can't go to Cuba. El, we aren't leaving you like this."

"Mom, I'm fine. It's just a cold."

Charlotte stomps her foot. "If we don't go to Cuba because El's a moron who passed out in the snow, I'm going to scream."

"We're going, we're going," Dad says. "But El, I'll be calling Coach Andrews to make sure you're going to practice, and if you skip out on the Brantford game, I swear—"

"When have I ever skipped out on a game? I'll be fine. You guys don't have to worry so much. It's literally a cold." To prove my point, I hoist myself up. "See? Fine." Then I sneeze and fall back on the couch.

Mom touches my cheek. "What were you doing skating so late, El?"

"I was just... I couldn't sleep."

When the doorbell rings, everyone looks at each other, confused. Charlotte peeks out the window and scrunches her nose. "It's Lucy... what is she wearing? She's dressed like Uncle Dave."

I shoot up, totally, a hundred percent fine, and speed to the front door. I've been so delirious that I completely forgot to text her.

On the other side of the door, Lucy hugs herself and shifts back and forth in her boots. Her eyes widen on me, and my face burns when I realize I'm still wearing a grey T-shirt and Star Wars pajamas. I look exactly how my family is treating me—like a little kid.

"You said we were hanging out," Lucy says.

"Sorry, I haven't checked my phone. I caught this cold and I've been pretty much dead all day. What time is it, anyway?"

"Three. Like you said."

"Shit, sorry, Lucy."

"If you're too sick, I can go—"

"No! Come in. Please."

Lucy steps inside, but she's shaking. Must be from the cold, but as I shut the door and she peels off her jacket, the trembling doesn't stop. One of the straps of her backpack is ripped and the violin she normally carries is gone.

"You okay?" I ask.

She nods, just as Mom and Dad come into the lobby. Lucy perks up and holds her hands over her lap.

"Oh, hello, Lucy!" Mom exclaims. "Elliot didn't mention you were coming back over."

"Hello." Lucy bows her head. Her body is still now, but she's hunching over slightly, almost like she's in pain. I must be imagining things.

"El told you we're celebrating Christmas early tonight, right?" Dad says. "You're welcome to stay for some turkey."

"He must have forgotten to mention it. I don't want to intrude again."

"Nonsense!" Mom says. "You wouldn't be intruding at all. Charlotte's having one of her friends over as well. Please, stay with us. Unless you have plans already."

Lucy nibbles on her lip and looks at her feet, so I nudge her with my elbow. "You can stay if you want, Luce. No pressure this time, I promise."

"Okay." Her heart-shaped lips twitch into a smile. "I'd like that."

My parents leave, so I run upstairs and change quickly. When I come back down, the beige shade of Lucy's skin is unusually pale. There's something off here—she isn't being snarky or calling me Junior or asking me for food. When I offer her a snack, she shakes her head.

I'm all stuffed up and gross but I ask Lucy to go on a walk with me. Knowing my family, they'll harass her with a million questions about herself, and I don't want to overwhelm her. Side-by-side, we trek through my neighbourhood under the afternoon clouds. Lucy is being quiet, but I can't stop talking—something about her presence lifts me three plains higher, like the sun shines brighter when she's around.

"This is where I broke my collarbone. Oh, and over there, I slipped and fell and chipped my tooth. This is my elementary school—I was obsessed with those monkey bars, and that's my friend Katie's house, and over there is where my sister kicked me in the balls when I was like, eight. God, sorry. I'm rambling."

"No." Lucy smiles tightly. "I like it. Keep talking."

"Okay. I have one more place I want to show you. Come on, you munchkin." I take her hand and pull her around the corner, but when she winces, I let go. Lucy flinches again and clutches at her torso. "What's wrong?" I ask. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she wheezes out, squinting her eyes shut.

"You're hurt..."

"Yeah. A little."

Careful not to touch her belly, I guide Lucy to a nearby bench. She keels over and holds her stomach as if her insides are falling out.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She doesn't answer.

"Is it, like... lady problems?"

Her glare turns deadly.

"Okay, okay." I raise my hands. "I'm sorry."

"It is not lady problems," she snaps.

"Then what is it?"

Lucy sighs. "I'll show you, but don't freak out, okay?"

I reluctantly nod. Lucy stands up straight and lifts her shirt, revealing her flat stomach. Splotches of purple, yellow, and black line her torso. It's like the makeup Katie did on me for our school's zombie play in the sixth grade—only it's real.

"Holy shit. Lucy, what happened to you?"

She covers herself. "I got jumped last night."

"What? By who?"

"Shh! Keep it down. I don't want to draw attention to myself."

The street is empty save for a few of my neighbours walking around and an old dude shovelling snow. They give us weird looks, so I wave at them and focus back on Lucy.

"I don't get it, who would hurt you?"

"These two girls. I don't know, they're just fucked, they wanted to steal my shit. They took all my cash and smashed my violin. I'd sold my mom's necklace and—" Her eyes lower. "It was all for nothing."

While I was smoking pot and feeling sorry for myself, passing out in the snow like an idiot, Lucy was in serious danger. I know I couldn't have possibly been there, but I hate myself for not being there.

"Are you going to say anything?" She studies my face, her nose cherry-red. There are no words, so I do what I always do—or used to do—when Katie's sad. I touch Lucy's arms, and when she doesn't back away, I pull her into a hug. She shakes like a leaf beneath me, and she has a unique smell, like the clothing in a vintage shop—a little musty, but laced with something sweet, like roses. I like it.

"What are you doing?" Her voice trembles.

I hold her tighter. "Giving you a hug."

She hesitates, but wraps her arms around me and rests her forehead to my chest. My chin relaxes against the top of her head.

"I wanna help," I say.

She squeezes me. We stand like that for a while, listening to the wind whirring through the trees and cars driving down the street. I pull away and Lucy grabs my hand, her fingers like icicles against mine. The way she grips me makes me feel important. Like I'm needed.

"Let's go back," she says. "I'm getting hungry."

I smile. This is the Lucy I know.