“I hit you,” he says, the word barely squeezing out around his laughter.
Finn grimaces, his hand rubbing his jaw. “Have you ever been hit in the face, Brady?”
Brady straightens, his laughter fading. He shakes his head, at the same time he says, “No.”
“Well, it really fucking hurts.” Finn strides past Brady and says, “The next time you hit someone, don’t tuck your thumb inside your fist. And follow through.” Finn stops, raises two fists, and punches the air. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, and I wonder who taught him? Maybe his uncle, if he was ever sober enough to be that coordinated.
“Finn,” Brady starts, taking a step toward him, but Finn raises an open palm to stop him.
“Don’t worry about it, Brady.” Finn glances at me. “It probably won’t be the last time either.”
I open my mouth, but Finn turns away. With his hands tucked inside the pockets of his ratty jeans, he walks off in the direction of his house.
We watch him go, and when he disappears around the next corner, Brady slings an arm over my shoulder and steers me across the street.
“Sorry we acted like that. Kind of stupid, I guess.”
I shrug my shoulders, but I don’t say anything. I know they were fighting over me. I suppose the noble thing to do would be to take a step back from our friendship, if only to preserve theirs. But I don’t want to be noble. I want Brady and Finn. I want the three of us to stay the way we are, even though I know that’s impossible.
Brady walks me home, pausing at the edge of my front yard. He touches my forearm, but I still can’t feel it.
He glances away, in the general direction of his house. Looking back at me, he says, “Promise me you’ll call an ambulance if you start drooling.”
My cheeks warm. The idea of him thinking about me drooling is embarrassing.
I nod quickly.
“And then call me. Or have your mom call me.”
My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “Why—”
“The antivenom isn’t cheap. Insurance doesn’t cover it, and it can be more than twenty thousand dollars per dose. Sometimes people need more than one dose. That’s a direct quote from the doctor who treated my sister when she was stung a few years ago.”
“Oh,” I say softly, looking down at the tiny red mark on my hand.
Brady’s finger goes under my chin, lifting my face until our eyes meet. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that, if you need it, I’d make sure you got it. That’s all.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” Up on tiptoe, I give him a quick hug and head for my front door.
It isn’t until I’m turning the door handle that I realize how late it is. As quietly as I can, I open the front door and step inside. So far, so good, I don’t see anybody. Sounds from the television filter in from the living room. I keep my footsteps as quiet as possible and make it to bottom of the stairs. I have one foot securely on the first stair when my mother’s voice snarls behind me.
“Where have you been? You missed dinner.”
I turn around and face my mother. She stands with her hands on her hips, her permed hair pulled up in a tight bun on the top of her head. A few tightly curled tendrils fall down near her temples and her ears.
My right hand inches away until it’s hidden behind my backside. It’s not as if the scorpion sting is visible, yet for some reason, I want to hide it from her.
“I was doing homework,” I tell her.
Her eyebrows raise. “With who?”
“Brady and Finn.” There’s a lilt to my voice, a challenge. She doesn’t like me hanging around boys, especially Finn. She’s constantly telling me it’ll only get me into trouble.
“Of course you were.” She comes closer to me, until I can see the skin-colored mole in the center of her right cheek. “I know you’re being a whore, Lennon.”
Without pause, I look her square in the eyes and say, “It takes one to know one, Mother.”
The intake of her breath is a sharp sound, but not as sharp as the open palm she lands squarely on my cheek.
