With the Enemy by Eva Gray

color of his skin and the tightness of his jaw make it clear that he’s in a lot of pain.
    I hold out my arm. “Lean on me,” I say, and he shakes his head. “Seriously, don’t be stupid.”
    He slings his arm over my shoulder and we start walking back to the car wash.
    “I’m sorry about your compass,” he says.
    “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can get another one,” I say as casually as I can, even though the thought of being without it is causing me a little panic.
    We have only six blocks to go but it feels farther. Partially, I suspect, because the whole jumping-to-your-(maybe)-death-and-being-on-the-run-from-the-police thing has left my legs kind of wobbly. It’s just past factory closing time, so there are more people on the street than there were when we walked over. At first that worries me, but no one seems to pay us any special attention, and I realize a guy walking with his arm across a girl’s shoulders probably just looks like two teenagers out on a date.
    Which makes my legs feel even more unsteady. I have a sudden strong urge to check our direction on my compass, and I’m already reaching for it before I remember it’s not there.
    At the next intersection we have to stop and wait for the light. I look up at Alonso to see how he’s doing.
    He smiles at me. “You were really brave back there,” he says.
    I get that weird feeling in my stomach again. “We wouldn’t have had to be brave if I’d listened to you and left when you first said we should. You got hurt because of me.”
    “I got hurt because of that security guard. And not badly hurt. Although I’m really looking forward to seeing Louisa.”
    My stomach bounces like that rubber ball.
    “I want to tell you something,” he says.
    “You don’t have to,” I assure him quickly, wondering how long until the light changes. “I know.”
    “You do?” He looks genuinely surprised.
    “Yes.” He opens his mouth but I rush on. “I know there’s someone — special to you,” I say. “I figured it out at the party store.”
    His mouth makes an O shape. He nods, like he’s remembering something. “Right. What you said before about the holidays.”
    “No, not then, after.”
    “After? How?”
    “You weren’t exactly subtle. I have eyes.” And ears, Iwant to add, remembering how he cracked up at Louisa’s joke. “The way you always try to make her laugh and help her out.”
    I’m avoiding his eyes but I can tell he’s staring at me. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”
    I can tell he’s uncomfortable so I try to think of the most tactful way to put it. “Yes, we are. We’re talking about how there’s someone you like. But … I’m afraid she doesn’t have the same feelings for you.”
    I sense him try to stand up straighter next to me, like he’s tense. I feel horrible. “She doesn’t?”
    “No. I’m sorry. I just — I don’t want you to get hurt.”
    “Oh. Okay,” he says, looking straight ahead. “Thanks for the heads-up. But —”
    He sounds so sad. “I think Louisa is wrong,” I say impulsively to cheer him up. “Personally I think you’re great and you used to read the dictionary, which I think is one of the cutest things ever, but —” I stop myself when I realize what I’ve said.
    At this moment I wouldn’t mind if some police came and took me away. The light changes and we startwalking and I hope that will be the end of it. But of course, no.
    I feel his eyes on me. “
Louisa
?” he repeats.
    “Don’t deny it. Don’t say anything. I just thought I should tell you,” I stammer, concentrating on weaving through the other pedestrians. I feel totally lost and I hate that feeling. I wish life came with an emotional compass.
    “That’s not actually what I was going to tell you.”
    I don’t want to look at him but I can’t help it.
    “What I was going to tell you is that you were right. In the office with the phone? What you said about me not liking holidays because of