“Well,” Jackson whispers, half to himself, “I guess we don’t need to go outside anymore to try to talk to any birds.”
“Not unless we want them to melt,” I say, grabbing my knife off of my dinner plate and leaning forward to prod at the glass.
There’s a tiny moment of silence before Jackson bursts out laughing, but before I figure out what’s so funny, the four other boys in the room come to stand at the edge of my bed, staring down at the glassy puddle that was a marble a few seconds ago.
“What the…fuck is going on here?” Ben asks, looking between the marble and me and Jackson. “What kind of weird-ass homework is this?”
“Seriously,” Luca says, crossing his arms and frowning. “You guys just hold hands for an hour and then…” he shakes his head, baffled, “I mean, I don’t even have an end
