“We all had crushes when we were sixteen,” Akara tells her. “Donnelly.” He suddenly brings him into the conversation. “Who’d you crush on?” His eyes dart to me, then the sky. “The moon. Round and sexy. Always out to play at night.” He makes a crude gesture with his fingers, splitting them in a V, and sticks his tongue between them. I grin. Akara holds out a hand like it’s strange evidence but evidence nonetheless.
