Chapter 111

“Stop it,” I whisper, climbing up on

the table beside him.

“I’m not—” he starts, and then he

finds the handle of a drawer beneath the stirrups and leans over,

pulls it out to see what’s inside. “Hey, this stuff is

cool.”

“Dylan,” I warn. Without looking at

me, he reaches back and eases a hand up my thigh in an effort to

distract me so he can rummage through the drawer without further

protest. Before he gets too far, though, I knock his hand away.

“You shouldn’t be rooting through their stuff.”

“I’m just looking,” he mumbles,

resting his hand on my knee.

Shanley sets his case down on a nearby

counter and laughs. “Just don’t break anything,” he says, opening

the case. He takes out the lancets again, the hemoscanner, a

handful of cotton swabs. “After you asked me if I was sick—over the

radio, remember?” I nod, slap Dylan’s hand away from me again, it’s

creeping steadily up my leg. Shanley pretends he doesn’t notice and