But I take them again, setting them in my lap. They were injured for me, just like I would have done for Evan. I trace each of his fingers. I want to be sweet to him. He deserves to see that I can be that way.
“That feels nice,” he says quietly. If I turn to him, he might kiss me. Here on the front steps of my run-down house, in my shitty ass neighborhood, this rich boy would kiss me.
Instead, with my good arm, I bring one of his battered hands to my mouth and kiss it. Just once. Then I let it go. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He doesn’t make it weird, and we sit quietly. Comfortably.
“Have you seen him?” Cameron asks.
I know who he means. “Not since Sunday.” A pain ripples through my chest at the thought of my brother. I twitch my nose to stop the stinging in my face.
Cameron scoots a little closer so that his hip is against mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I know that he is. He cares about us. He’s a good person. We sit and listen to the cars pass by, and after a while I look at him.
“You’re supposed to be in school,” I say.
“So are you.”
“I had days left.”
“Yeah,” he says. “This is my last one. I’ll have to make it to class every time until the end of the year or they’ll fail me.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “You need to graduate,” I say.
“I know. But it’s no fun without you.” He smirks a little.
“I’m going back tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Can I take you somewhere?” he asks.
“Nowhere to go.”
He shrugs. “My mom wants you to come over tonight.”
“Your mother or you?”
“Both of us.”
And I have to admit, it feels nice to be wanted. “No thanks.”
“Please.”
“Okay.” I stand up, wiping my palm on my jeans. I don’t mind going with him. There’s no reason to wait here. Evan isn’t coming back. I have nowhere else to be.
Cameron is still on the porch step. “Uh . . .”
“What?” I ask. “Do you still want me to?”
“Well, yeah. But I expected you to argue.”
“I’m not always difficult.”
“Yes, you are,” he says, getting to his feet. “But I like it that way. I like when you fight me on every little goddamn thing.”
