I look at her legs. Her tights are snagged. A red scrape mars her calf.
“You’re injured,” I say. “That’s not fine.”
She rolls her eyes expertly.
“Come on.” I gesture toward the nearest side door. “Let’s get you inside before your grandmother sees blood and calls an ambulance.”
I brace for another eye roll or a sneer. Instead, her eyes go wide with panic as if she truly believes Brigitte would summon an ambulance over a scrape. Or maybe she’s just stunned by how lame my humor is.
Either way, she takes the arm I offer, careful not to lean too heavily. Together we make it to the wide hallway off the main staircase. No one’s around.
She exhales. “I can handle it from here.”
“Millie.” I give her a stern look. “Sit. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
Her expression darkens. “I don’t need—” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just let me use my own, OK?”
She hobbles toward her room. I follow at a distance.
She reaches her door, opens it, and looks back. “You can come in. But turn around when I tell you to.”
“Sure.”
Her room is tidy. Books, posters, a stuffed sloth on the window seat.
She crouches by her desk and retrieves a compact medical kit from the bottom drawer. She flips it open with practiced hands.
I move toward the exit. “I’ll give you privacy.”
“You can stay,” she says quickly. “Just don’t look.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I plonk myself into the armchair by the door and study the ceiling. I hear her cleaning the scrape, unrolling bandage, packing everything back into the kit, and returning it to the drawer.
After a beat, she says, “You can look now.”
She’s sitting on the carpet, her injured ankle propped on a floor cushion. There’s a soft brace on it now. Her face is flushed.
“Sprained?” I ask.
“Lightly. It’ll be fine.” She narrows her eyes. “I’m riding in the Aymon Autumn Parade. Are we clear?”
“That’s up to your mom, Millie.”
She purses her lips.
I let the silence stretch.
Eventually, she breaks it. “I’m not clumsy.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“But you think it.”
“No,” I say. “But I did wonder if you were hiding something. And now, I’m sure.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
