"No," the boy replied, his eyes fixed on the blue. "It's a promise."

"Keep your gold. If it rains by Tuesday, you owe me. If it doesn't, you keep the stone to remind you why we leave the desert."

"I need to buy turquoise," the boy said. His voice was thin, but steady.

The boy nodded once, gripped the sky in his fist, and ran out into the heat.

The boy came in at noon, his boots caked in dry mud. He didn’t look at the silver or the polished beads. He walked straight to the back, to the jar Elias kept under a velvet cloth.