Sheloweredherheadandquicklyfihelonelysmallfries.Thenshegrabbedanapkin,wipedherfingers,andswungtheheavybackpatohershoulders.

        “Thankyou,Senior.”Shestood.Hervoiceheldlessofherusualchill,aude.“I’llpayyoubackfortoday’sicfeesSundayatpractieedtogohomenow—ifmymomnoticesIdidn’tghthomeaftercramschool,she’llinterrogateme.”

        Elianstayedseated,watghershoulderstenseagainthemomeioher.

        He’dwaalkmore,nowthatshe’dfinallyletherguarddown—aboutherchildhood,orwhatmusittoher.Butlookingatherpaleface,stilldrainedfromthefever,stillfullofviginday,hedidn’twanthiscuriositytobethereasonthisstubbornpatiehomeandgotscoldedagain.

        Heswallowedthewordsthathadrisentohislipsandnoddedlightly.

        “Gotit.Go.”Heputawayhisusualcarelessattitudeandlookedatherseriously.“Whenyougethome,takeyourmediea.And…sinceIsaidI’dhelpyou—ifyouhavequestionsaboutschoolwork,youefindmeinCss3-8anytimeduringcsshours.”

        Crapaused.Css3-8—thatwastheschool’sfamouslyelitesed-traorscss.

        Shenodded,silentlyfilinghiswordsaway,thenturnedandpushedopenMald’sheavygssdoor,steppingbackoutintoTaipei’sOctoberafternoon—stillmuggyandhot.

        EliansatbythewindowandtookaeofhisBigMac.Throughthegss,hewatchedthatsmallbutstubbornbackdisappearintothecrowdonNanyangStreet.

        Andsuddenly,hefoundhimselflookingforwardtowhatkindofshockthisscestudentwouldbriherehearsalstudioaweekfromnow.

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