(Art = 11)

Jate dragged the mop out of the soapy bucket. The dirty water cascaded off the gray strands, splashing back into the fading suds. He gripped the mop head with both hands, twisting the coarse yarn until his forearms burned and his muscles strained. To get better leverage, he braced his palm flat against the wet plastic rim of the bucket.

For a split second, he looked down and saw the murky, soapy water swirling inside the bucket, but he was looking straight through the center of his own palm to see it. His hand had vanished again.

A cold spike of terror hit his chest. He snatched his arm back, wiping it vigorously up and down the rough fabric of his shorts, desperate to feel the friction.

Thanom paused his work. He looked over just as Jate squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to dislodge the impossible image.

"Hey, Jate."

Jate jolted, his shoulders snapping up. "Huh?"

"You good?" Thanom asked.

Jate forced his eyes open and kept them firmly glued to his fingers. "Yeah," he replied. "Tired, maybe."

Before Thanom could push the issue, the crunch of footsteps interrupted them. Two younger boys from Book's old gang rounded the corner, struggling to carry a heavy plastic crate loaded with milk cartons. The moment the boy in front spotted Thanom, he stopped dead in his tracks, causing the one in the back to stumble into him. The cartons rattled loudly in the sudden, tense silence.

One boy nudged the other with an elbow. Without a single word, they awkwardly hoisted the crate higher and immediately pivoted, choosing to haul the heavy load the long way around the building.

Thanom's face was completely blank as he watched the boys scurry away.

"Are we done here?" Thanom asked. "We still have other work to do."

Jate trailed behind as Thanom marched over to the toolshed. They set to work tearing thick, dead vines off the side. The dry, stubborn stalks resisted, snapping aggressively under their grip.

Thanom paused, eyeing the weathered wood of the shed. "Can you grab a hammer? There are a few rusty nails sticking out over here. Let's pull them out."

Jate walked over and reached into the toolbox, grabbing the hammer. After lifting it, the hammer fell straight through his palm back into the toolbox with a loud clatter.

Jate quickly pulled his hand behind his back, hiding it from Thanom's view. He swallowed hard. His pulse thudded loudly, but it couldn't drown out the rising cacophony of yard noises. Jate was panicking.

Thanom didn't notice what had happened. He just saw Jate fumbling the tool, looking kinda like he got a sudden migraine.

"Forget it," Thanom muttered, his patience snapping. "I'll just pull them by hand."

"What! No, no, no… that's stupid!" Desperate to cover his slip and act normal, Jate reached back into the box with his left hand to grab the hammer.

But Thanom was already moving. He locked his bare fingers around the head of a bent, rusted nail and yanked backward. The dry wood snapped and splintered, raining dead leaves down onto his shoulders. The stubborn nail came free with a screech, but the momentum sent the jagged metal tearing a ragged line straight across the back of Thanom's hand.

When they finally wrapped up and headed back from their chores, fresh blood was welling up across his hand. He swiped the red smear carelessly onto his work shorts, fully intending to ignore it.

But Art noticed immediately.

He stepped into Thanom's path, his eyes locking onto the blood. "We have to wash that," he said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Before it gets infected. The rust around here is super old."

"Hmm," Thanom nodded and let Art take the lead.

Art wrapped his fingers carefully around Thanom's uninjured wrist, leading him away from the main yard and returning to the secluded back steps behind the supply shed.

"Wait right there," Art ordered.

He then jogged to the outdoor wash station and grabbed a faded plastic basin, shoving it under the metal tap. He pulled a few clean sun-dried rags from the drying line. Finally, Art dug through the staff's outdoor supply cabinet until his fingers closed around a small, brown glass bottle of iodine. The pungent, medicinal smell leaked through the cap.

He carried the sloshing basin back to the steps, setting it down carefully between Thanom's feet. Art uncapped the iodine and poured it onto one rag. He then grabbed another, dipped it into the bucket and wrung it out, dripping water all over the stones below.

He reached out, taking Thanom's injured hand in both of his own to inspect the wound more closely.

The scrape wasn't deep, but Thanom winced anyway.

"Dramatic," Art said teasingly, dabbing at the cut then dipping the rag to clear away the blood.

"I bled for this place." Thanom joked. "And this is the thanks I get?"

Art shook his head. "You bled for a nail."

"A very malicious piece of metal," Thanom corrected.

Art's mouth twitched, fighting off a smile. He pressed the damp rag gently against Thanom's skin, washing away the dried blood.

He then folded the remaining clean cloth, wrapping it snugly around Thanom's hand like a makeshift bandage. As he tucked the ends in, Art's bare fingers grazed the center of Thanom's palm. A sudden rush of static made the fine hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand straight up.

It was nice like that. Just the two of them. Their shoulders were close enough to bump every time one of them shifted.

"You two done kissing yet?"

Mali's voice rang out as she skipped over to them. She was holding a stray orange kitten by the middle of its belly, its four legs dangling limply in the air.

Art finished tying the ends of the rag, careful and calm. "If we were kissing," he called back, "you wouldn't be invited."

Mali giggled, dropping the kitten onto the grass where it immediately bolted into the dark safety under the toolshed.

Peach appeared around the corner of the shed, casually twirling a plastic straw between her fingers. "You two are really starting to twinkle!" she announced, pausing to shoot them an exaggerated wink. "And I don't mean metaphorically this time."

Thanom snatched up one of the unused, dry rags and tossed it at Peach. "Weirdo." But despite the interruption, he didn't move away from Art.

"Doubt me if you will, but you definitely are," Peach insisted, easily dodging the rag and plopping down on the grass nearby.

"You are usually a deep violet, like ube ice cream." She pointed a very deliberate finger right at Thanom's nose. "And you…" She flicked her gaze over to Art. "Green. Think cooked spinach."

"Don't worry," she added cheerfully. "Only I can see it. Most of the time anyway."

Mali crossed her arms. "Well what color am I?"

Peach tapped her chin with the straw, leaning forward and studying the younger girl with an expression of extreme focus. "You are light blue, of course!"

Mali seemed perfectly satisfied with this answer and sat down to dig for worms in the dirt.

Thanom leaned in closer and casually held Art's hand. He closed the distance until their noses almost brushed, dropping his voice so the girls couldn't hear. "If we were kissing," he said, his breath hot against Art's cheek, "we wouldn't get caught."

Art felt his stomach do a slow, nervous somersault. He looked Thanom directly in the eye, refusing to back down, holding eye contact until his vision started to blur. "You're too loud to be that subtle."

Thanom raised a challenging brow. "And you blinked."

Art shoved Thanom's shoulder, breaking the tension. Thanom laughed out loud, leaning his weight fully back against Art.

From the other side of the courtyard, Jate watched them.

He stood next to his soapy bucket, his hands gripping the rim. He saw the easy way Art held Thanom's hand, the way they leaned into each other's space without thinking about it. He saw Art shove Thanom's shoulder. He saw Thanom laughing, completely unguarded. He couldn't see the "twinkle" Peach claimed was there, but he could feel their undeniable bond.

He turned away before they could see him looking.