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She shakes against me, and my hands are on her shoulders in an instant. I look into her eyes. “What’s wrong?” I tilt her head to see either side of her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a little cold.”

Right. Pouring rain. It makes sense.

“Let’s go inside.”

“What about our food?” she asks.

The paper plates are soaked through. The toppings of my pizza are falling off in a wet heap. “There’s no saving it. We’ll have to get something else,” I say as I gather it up to throw away.

We run to the nearest building. It’s humongous with vendors at one end and exhibitions at the other. It’s packed with everyone trying to stay dry. However, everyone else came right when the rain started. They aren’t dripping wet like Margo and me.

My shoes squeak, and my soles slosh with every step I take, leaving wet footprints behind. Margo has the same problem, but she doesn’t seem upset by it. She’s looking around like she’s forgotten she’s drenched.

There has to be something to wear in this place. Something we can buy to get out of these wet clothes.

Margo is sidetracked by a lady selling different jams and jellies. I take her hand and lead her through the crowd, trying to see the booths over the tops of people’s heads as we pass. Each booth is separated by tall black fabric that acts as temporary walls.

“What are you looking for?” she asks.

“We need to find something you can wear that’s warm and dry.” We pass stands with hair products, people selling knives, even hats and sunglasses, but no clothes.

Margo tugs back on my hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Her ears turn pink, and she smiles. We continue weaving through people. “Hey, what about that!” she says, pointingtoward a booth in the far corner. There’s a rack with black T-shirts next to a bunch of bedazzled belts and baseball caps.

I lead Margo to it, and she gasps as soon as she starts rifling through them.

“What?” I ask.

She takes one off the rack and shows me. The shirt has a drawing of a s’more on it with the words,Life’s s’more fun with you.“You are going to need one too.”

“No. Definitely not.”

Margo puts it back, grinning as she carefully examines every single one. “This one would be perfect for you!”

It’s one with a carrot that says,I don’t carrot all.

“Not going to happen,” I say.

She holds it in front of me as if she’s imagining me wearing it. “But it would look so good on you.”

My chest squeezes, and I know I’m blushing.

How am I supposed to tell her no? I can’t. Not when she smiles at me like this. I want her to look at me this way forever.

I take the shirt from her.

“Oh,” she says, covering her mouth. “Are you really going to wear it?”

I nod.

She does a little hop. “Really?”

A smile pulls at me. “Yes, but only for you.” I start looking at the other T-shirts. “But I’m going to pick yours.”