Sylvia came up to Conner while he leaned
against the prep counter, sneaking French fries off of Rand’s plate
as he waited for the burgers to be ready. Her disapproving look
made him wipe his greasy fingers on his apron guiltily, but instead
of reprimanding him, she waved a hand in front of his face and
asked, “Are you feeling all right?”
With a start, Conner frowned at her. “I’m
fine,” he said. Grabbing a pair of tongs, he began to refill Rand’s
plate with more fries from the basket over the fryer. “Why do you
ask? Don’t I look all right?”
Sylvia peered into his face, concerned. “You
look a little pale. Are you feverish?”
Conner pulled away from the hand that tried
to press against his forehead. “I’m fine,” he said, but now that
she mentioned it, he did feel a little…odd. His
