The fever came up in Joss’s face after the evening bell.
She was still arguing about the lamp when it hit. She wanted it out, and the other girls wanted it lit, and she said so in a voice that carried down the corridor. Then she stopped in the middle of a word and sat down hard on the edge of her cot.
“Sir,” she said. “I am cold.”
It was a warm night. Calen could feel the heat coming off her skin from the doorway. He put his hand on her forehead without asking, and she did not stop him.
“Yes,” said Calen. “You are hot.”
“That is stupid.”
“Yes.”
Joss tried to laugh. It came out as a cough.
