"Oh, gosh," Yancey sneezes, lighting his fingers on the other boy's shoulder. And then as he tries to finish his thought sneezes two more times. "I'm sorry, Lach."

"We should..." He inhales, like he's going to sneeze, again, but it gets stuck. And he stares up at the ceiling futily hoping for it to stop. Or the sweet release of death. "We should get--" There it is, a terribly loud achoo. "Get out of this powder."