Nana’s breath catches the moment she lays eyes on the ashen patch of skin. She doesn’t know what it is or why it’s there. She had assumed he hurt his arm during the ride. But, that isn’t a bruise. She takes a second to speak, which may say as much as her words.

“We need to get you to a teacher right now,” she says, quietly.

Nana’s good hand curls into a fist. How can she protect him if she doesn’t know what’s happening to him? She feels her shoulders tremble. Nana stares down at his arm.

She says, mechanically, “It’s going to be okay.”