“Two left,” June said, checking faces inside. “We’re going to change the order—back corner first to ease the angle.”
Ms. Patel relayed the plan through the window like a teacher at dismissal. “You with the blue jacket—yes, you, sweetheart—your turn. Hands to the frame. Breathe like Zoe.”
Zoe and Liam counted again, soft and steady. In. Out. In. Out. The boy in the blue jacket followed their rhythm like a song in a church he didn’t know he knew. When he reached me, his lips were a better color than they’d been in the bus light. I wrapped the blanket and felt his ribs settle under my palms.
“One more,” Doc said. “Then we evaluate the angle and whether the door gives us anything.”
Bear leaned harder into the frame. June braced. Rook checked his knots and retied one that didn’t need retieing because practice is the thing you do when fear wants you sloppy.
