Gen grabs my hand, and I start. Her brow furrows in concern, but she doesn’t let go. “It’s okay, Mira. I just want to look at your wounds.”
Gen and Cali lead me into the bathroom, and Cali locks the door behind us.
One person inside their closet of a bathroom barely fits. Three people leaves Cali straddling the edge of the tub, and me forced to sit on the toilet lid to make space.
Cali reaches across to the medicine cabinet—at the same time Gen rises from below the sink, knocking into her arm. “Quit it, Cali. I’m trying to get a towel.”
“Well, I’m trying to grab the first-aid kit,” Cali says.
They swat at each other for a second. Then Cali elbows Gen. Gen fakes a move, and reaches around Cali for the cabinet.
I’ve never had a sister, or close female friends. Watching Gen and Cali is like seeing inside a mysterious club. I’ve also never had friends, besides Lewis and Zach, worry over me.
There’s that warmth inside my chest again, like in the woods, when I thought my mom was calling for me. I press my arm to my ribs. All this therapy is making me soft.
“Got ’em,” Gen says triumphantly, holding up the first-aid kit along with the towel.
“Maybe we should take her to the ER, or Urgent Care?” Cali says, scanning me from head to toe.
Gen sets the towel across my lap and looks me over. “She’s moving okay, but yeah, the blood on her head doesn’t look good. What if her brain is swelling?”
My what?
“We’ll clean her up,” Cali says, “then get her to a doctor. I’ll grab clothes. Unless you think we should call nine-one-one? Should she stay in her clothes for the police? Do they need that for evidence?”
Okay, maybe these girls are insane. Funny, but insane. I’m beginning to feel sympathy for Lewis.
A knock sounds at the bathroom door.
“Just a minute,” Cali and Gen shout at the same time.
“No,” I answer their earlier question. “No nine-one-one. I’ll be fine. I don’t need a doctor.”
They exchange a look. “Clothes, then ER,” Cali says, and stumbles out the door, slamming it shut behind her. But not before heated voices from the other room drift in.
The guys are arguing?
Gen pulls out antiseptic and gently wipes the cuts on my palms, drawing my gaze from the door to the burning in my hands, which took a beating when the man tackled me to the ground.
I close my eyes against the frightening memory, sensing a tug as Gen eases off my jacket and lifts my shirt. She touches my ribs.
“Um, oww?”
“You were cradling your side a moment ago. This hurts?” She touches the spot again, more gently.
I nod. It hurts, but I was cradling my chest in part because of the warmth of their kindness.
Cali bursts into the bathroom, slamming the door against Gen’s back.
“Son of a bitch, Cali.” Gen glances over her shoulder, her face scrunched in annoyance.
“What?” Cali shrugs. “Sorry.”
Gen lowers my shirt. “Her ribs look bruised. She might have broken one.”
“And there’s a footprint on her back,” Cali adds dryly from her angle near the door.
Gen shakes her head, her lips compressed as she lets out a pained sigh through her nose. “Mira, who did this to you?”
