“Always turning everything into a game.”
“Well…yeah.”
A smile played on his lips and he said, “Ten minutes.”
Beads of salty moisture gathered on my upper lip. “Wimp.”
“How long do you think you could stay in here…if you hadto?”
I let the heat settle on my shoulders as I thought about that question. “With or without water?”
“Without.”
“By myself?”
“Just like we are now.”
“Five minutes,” I said back, my smirk matching his.
“Nice.”
“But no, I think I could go two hours, no water.”
He nodded over his shoulder. “Should I inform the man?”
“This is all hypothetical, of course.”
“Why were you so eager to see what hell feels like anyway?”
“You think hell is only a hundred and thirty-four degrees?”
He smiled his real smile at me for the first time since he arrived and nostalgia came pouring into my chest, making it even harder to breathe.
I drew air into my lungs. Hot, dry air. “Remember that plastic playhouse of your sister’s in the backyard that we used to sitin?”
“Yes. Why did we ever choose that over air-conditioning?”
“Because we were kids. And we had important secrets we didn’t want anyone else to hear.”
“Like where to hide the candy stash?”
We’d shared many more real thoughts than that over theyears—fears, successes, worries. I let my hand travel over the smooth wood beneath me. “Isn’t it funny that we’re in a simulation of Death Valley instead of being, like, actually out in Death Valley?”
He lifted his shoulder to his temple, wiping his sweat on his T-shirt. “So ironic.”
Why was he making this so hard? He’d had some fun banter with his sister over the last several hours. He obviously hadn’t forgotten how. “Don’t humor me, Skyler Hutton. It was a very clever observation.”
“It was.”
“So it’s just me, then?”
“What?” Skyler swayed on his feet and my eyes shot to his knees.
“Are your knees locked?”
“What?” he asked, his voice slow and drawn out.
I jumped up and reached around him for the handle of the door, which I couldn’t find with him blocking the way. I took him by the waist and tried to switch places with him, directing him toward the bench to sit. He stumbled, grabbing hold of my shoulders and using me for support, but had only moved an inch, so he still blocked the door.