“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 ever bled…from anywhere in your whole life?”

She hated everything he was implying, but she couldn’t deny the truth. “I don’t know. I honestly can’t remember ever bleeding.”

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.”

“Everybody’s epithelia are animal cells as well, Laurel—but not yours,” he responded. “You said your parents don’t believe in doctors. Have you ever been to see one?”

“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?”

“I don’t have a stethoscope. But if I…” He hesitated. “If I put my ear right over your heart, I should be able to hear it loud and clear.”

Laurel sat up a little straighter. “Okay,” she said quietly.

David put one hand on each side of her ribs and slowly lowered his head.

Laurel tried to breathe evenly, but she was sure her heart must be racing. His cheek was warm against her skin, pressing against the neckline of her shirt.

After a long moment he lifted his face away.

“So—”

“Sshh,” he said, turning his head and putting his other cheek against the opposite side of her chest. He didn’t stay there very long before he raised his head again. “There’s nothing,” he said, his voice very soft. “Not on your wrist or at your neck. And I can’t hear anything in your chest. It sounds…empty.”