Fire in the Woods by Jennifer M. Eaton

frantically searched the room for something to help. Pillows, magazines, remote controls, everything a good Jersey home should have other than something to stop a person from freezing to death.
    Three logs lay unburned beside the fireplace, leftover from the spring thaw. Perfect. I placed one of the logs on the steel grate and shoved some newspaper beneath it. Luckily, the dry wood caught quickly. I checked David’s blankets and glanced at the thermometer’s digital readout. 112. 113. 114. “What the…”
    David convulsed and bit down, snapping the thermometer in two.
    “Holy crap!” I picked up the half that fell on the blanket and tossed it on the table. My finger shot between his lips, and I pried his mouth open, praying he didn’t bite me by accident. I dug the rest of the thermometer from under his tongue and threw it over my shoulder.
    His head fell to the side, his body as limp as a rag doll. I did my best to hoist him to a sitting position as his eyes rolled back, exposing ghostly white orbs.
    “Omigosh, this is not happening. David! David!” No answer. I slapped his face.
    His eyes sprang open, centered on me, and froze. His lips clamped together. His body shook as if it were preparing to explode. His muscles hardened like bricks beneath my fingertips. The skin around his eyes crinkled. The set of his eyes screamed for help.
    “Come on, David. Snap out of it. Come on!”
    His eyes remained fixed on me until the convulsion subsided. A blink told me he was still in there. I eased him back until he rested on the couch without my support. His gaze locked with mine. Color returned to his face.
    I reached out and touched his arm. My fingers trembled. “Please tell me it’s over.”
    David closed his eyes and rubbed his chest, taking in several long, full breaths. He blinked and squinted as if the light hurt his eyes, before scanning the room.
    His movement seemed hesitant and sleepy, as if he’d just woken up. The licking flames in the fireplace caught his attention. His lips turned up in a grin.
    “Warm. Thanks,” he whispered.
    I ran the back of my hand across my forehead, dabbing away the sweat. “Thanks, nothing. You have, like, a hundred and fifteen-degree fever. We need to get you to a hospital.”
    His eyes darkened. “No. I told you—”
    “David, this is serious.”
    He reached out and touched his fingers to my chest, just below the collarbone. “I am serious.” His irises seemed to brighten beneath his dark lashes.
    A soothing sensation rolled over me, relaxing my muscles one at a time. My apprehension slipped away, while something deep in the recesses of my mind begged me to run. I blinked and allowed the calm to overcome. “All right, but I’m not a doctor, you know. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
    “I don’t need a doctor.”
    Yeah, so he’d told me. I kneaded my hands together, doing my best to remember what they taught in my first aid class. “So, okay, fever. A tub of ice, right? Ice water will break a fever?”
    He raised his palms and leaned away. “No! No more ice. Please…”
    “But David you’re really sick.”
    “No, I’m not.” He rubbed his temples. “I, I…have a disorder.”
    “A what?” The fire crackled behind me as the room continued to heat.
    “It’s…thermo-nucleic disorder. Have you heard of it?”
    “No.” I crossed my arms.
    He straightened. The pink blanket fell to his waist. “I have an extremely high body temperature. I don’t do too well in the cold.”
    “You’re trying to tell me you’re always that hot?”
    He placed his hands on his lap. “Pretty much. I’m feeling better, though. Thanks for the fire.”
    I kept my arms folded. Seriously? He must have thought I was a…
    His smile warmed me more than the fire, and I relaxed.
    A disorder, of course. It made total sense—unless he was pulling my leg.
    His smile faded as he tugged the chain of my mother’s pendant out of the sweatshirt. He fingered the golden oval. “What’s