said, widening her eyes dramatically.
“Still,” David said, “it looks like he’s right. At least about this.”
Laurel shook her head. “There’s got to be something else.”
David paused. “There is one thing, but — no, it’s dumb.”
“What?”
David studied her for a minute. “I–I could look at a blood sample.”
“Oh.” Laurel’s heart sank.
“What’s the matter?”
“How would you get the blood?”
David shrugged. “A finger prick should do it easy.”
Laurel shook her head. “I can’t do needles. They terrify me.”
“Really?”
Laurel nodded, her face pinched. “I’ve never been stuck with a needle.”
“Never?”
Laurel shook her head. “No doctors. Remember?”
“What about shots?”
“I didn’t have any. My mom had to fill out a special form to get me into school.”
“No stitches?”
“Oh, gosh,” she said, covering her mouth. “I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Okay, forget it then.”
They sat in silence for quite a while.
“I wouldn’t have to look?” Laurel asked.
“I promise. And it doesn’t really hurt.”
Laurel’s breath caught in her throat, but this seemed important. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“My mom’s diabetic, so she’s got lancets in her room for testing her blood. That’s probably the easiest way. I’ll be right back.”
Laurel forced her breathing to even out while David was out of the room. He walked back in, hands empty.
“Where is it?” she asked.
“I’m not telling you. I’m not even going to let you see it. Scoot over. I have an idea.” He sat on the bed just in front of her. “Okay, sit behind me and put your arms around my waist. You can keep your head down against my back and squeeze me if you get scared.”
Laurel scooted behind him. She pressed her face against his back and squeezed his waist as hard as she could.
“I do need one hand,” David said, his voice a little strained.
Laurel forced herself to loosen her hold and relinquished one hand. David rubbed her palm softly as she started to squeeze him again. “Ready?” he asked.
“Surprise me,” she said, her voice breathless.
He rubbed her hand a little longer, then she let out a squeak as a sensation like a static shock erupted on her finger. “Okay, it’s over,” David said calmly.
“Did you put it away?” Laurel asked without lifting her head.
“Yeah,” David said, his voice strangely flat. “Laurel, you need to see this.”
Curiosity helped dissipate her fear as Laurel peeked over David’s shoulder. “What?”
David was gently applying pressure to the end of her middle finger. A bead of clear liquid pooled out.
“What is that?” Laurel asked.
“I’m more concerned with what it’s not,” David replied. “It’s not red.”
Laurel just stared.
“Um, can I…?” David gestured at the box of slides.
“Of course,” Laurel said numbly.
David took a thin glass slide and dabbed Laurel’s finger against it. “Can I get a couple?”
Laurel just nodded.
Three slides later, David wrapped Laurel’s finger in a tissue and Laurel tucked her hands into her lap.
David sat beside her, his thigh touching hers. “Laurel, is this what always comes out when you cut yourself?”
“I haven’t cut myself in ages.”
“You have at least had a scraped knee at some point, haven’t you?”
“I’m sure I have, but…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she couldn’t pinpoint a single instance. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I can’t remember.”
David ran his fingers through his hair. “Laurel, have you
She hated everything he was implying, but she couldn’t deny the truth. “I don’t know. I honestly can’t remember
David slid his chair back over to the microscope and put the new slide under the lighted scope, then studied it through the lens for a long time. He switched the slides and looked again. Then he pulled out a few red-stained slides from another box and worked them into the rotation.
Laurel didn’t move the whole time.
He turned to her. “Laurel,” he said, “what if you don’t have blood? What if this clear fluid is all that flows through your veins?”
Laurel shook her head. “That’s not possible. Everybody has blood, David.”
“
“When I was really little. My dad told me about it the other night.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh.” She related the story to David. “He knew, he must have.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell your parents?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head.
David was quiet, his brow knitted. When he spoke, it was hesitantly. “Do you mind if I try something?”
“As long as it doesn’t include cutting me open to look at my guts.”
He laughed.
Laurel didn’t.
“Can I take your pulse?”
Laurel was caught off-guard by the wave of relief and humor that washed over her. She started to laugh and couldn’t stop. David looked at her silently while she laughed out her hysteria, until she finally got herself back under control. “Sorry,” she said, breathing heavily as she warded off yet another wave of giggles. “It’s just…this is so much better than cutting me open.”
David smiled halfway and rolled his eyes. “Let me have your hand,” he said.
She held out her arm and he laid two fingers on her wrist. “Your skin is really cool,” he said. “I’m kinda surprised I haven’t noticed that before.” Then he was quiet, concentrating. After a while, he shifted from the chair to the bed beside her. “Let me try it up here on your neck.”
He held the back of her neck with one hand and placed his fingers firmly against the right side. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and even though he was looking studiously away from her face, she couldn’t look anywhere else. She saw things she’d never noticed before. A light smattering of freckles along his hairline, a scar almost hidden by his eyebrow, and the graceful curve of his eyelashes. She vaguely felt his fingers push a little harder. When her breath caught, he drew back. “Did that hurt?”
She shook her head and tried not to notice how close he was.
A few seconds later, his hands drew away. She didn’t like the look in his eyes — the worried crease between his eyebrows. “What?” she asked.
But he just shook his head. “I have to be sure. I’m not going to scare you for nothing. Can I…can I listen to your chest?”
“Like with a stethoscope?”
