Elias did not understand Lila.

  She did things that made no logical sense—talking to him even when he gave short answers, laughing at things that weren’t funny, dragging him places without explanation.

  But she was persistent.

  The day after their first conversation, she found him again.

  “There you are!” she said, dropping into the seat beside him in the cafeteria. She had a tray of food—too much, he noted, more than a person should reasonably eat in one sitting. “I bought too much. Help me finish it.”

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  “I didn’t ask for any,” Elias pointed out.

  Lila grinned. “I know. But I’m giving it to you anyway.”

  She pushed a carton of milk toward him. He stared at it, then at her.

  Lila rested her chin in her hand, watching him. “You’re not used to people giving you things, are you?”

  “That’s not true.” His mother gave him things all the time—food, clothes, gifts on birthdays and holidays.

  But when he thought about it, outside of his family, it had never really happened before.

  “Then take it,” Lila said simply.

  Elias picked up the carton, opening it with slow, deliberate movements. He took a sip. It was just milk—nothing special, nothing meaningful.

  But for some reason, Lila smiled like he had done something important.

  “See?” she said. “You’re learning.”

  Learning what?

  He didn’t ask.

  Because for the first time, someone was treating him like he wasn’t a puzzle to be solved. And he wasn’t sure he wanted that to end.