Ceilings Plaster

A boy appears in front of him. Lance startles — it’s so hard to see in the storm that it’s like he’s popped out of thin air. The boy’s long black hair is plastered to his head, and he’s soaked to the bone. He reaches out and wraps a glove-covered hand around Lance’s wrist, pulling gently.“Come on, it’s freezing, you’re going to get sick. Let’s go, Taylor.”Taylor?Lance’s sneakers are soaked through, and usually that would bother him. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to move, to walk away. He hasn’t felt the rain on his skin in two years.That doesn’t make sense. It’s the middle of the rain season in the Arizona desert. All students are forbidden from going outside. He’s not supposed to be here. This boy isn’t, either, this boy who calls him Taylor.Lance followed this boy. Didn’t he? That’s why he’s out here in the first place, against Garrison orders. He always gets in trouble for following this boy into trouble.