Page 11 of The Beginning and End of Everything
Those two boys had somehow made that chunk of my heart that felt so empty when my mother had died, seem a little bit smaller, a tad bit fuller. It wasn’t fair that Brandon had been expelled and Davie seemed like the helpless victim. And that evening, over supper, my daddy agreed it wasn’t fair at all, and he promised he’d have a talk with Mr. Peterson.
The next afternoon,Daddy called up the stairs that my friends were waiting outside. I shoved my feet into my shoes, expecting only Connor since Brandon was grounded. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find Brandon on my doorstep, hair scruffy, and his T-shirt crumpled like it had been plucked from his bedroom floor. His chin was tucked to his chest while he scuffed his beat-up sneakers back and forth.
“Come on.” Connor disappeared through the gate.
When I started down the steps, Brandon grabbed my arm, then quickly snatched it back.
“Hey, uh— Thanks,” he mumbled, finally making eye contact with me.
“For?”
“I know you got your dad to tell on Davie. Thanks.”
My cheeks heated. Brandon bolted down the steps and grabbed his rusted bike from where it had been dumped on the pavement. Connor had already lifted the kickstand to his bright green bike and sat waiting on us. I’d gotten a flat tire earlier in the week, and Daddy had worked overtime, which meant he hadn’t fixed it yet.
Sighing, I said, “I can’t ride. My tire’s still flat.”
“It’s fine. I’ll give you a backy.” Brandon patted his ripped seat.
I eyed the mangled wires that once served as brakes. Brandon’s Mom always gave him grief for wearing holes in the toes of his sneakers, but that was the only way he had to slow down. He patted the seat again, and I took a step back with a slight shake of my head.
“You don’t have brakes, Brandon.”
“I’ll go slow.” Slow wasn’t in that boy’s vocabulary.
Connor slid off the seat and straddled the bar. “I’ll take you, Poppy.”
My gaze strayed between him and Brandon, then I shrugged before climbing onto the seat and wrapping my arms around Connor’s plump middle. He started pedaling, and we inched along the sidewalk. Of course, Brandon took off as fast as he could. He zoomed around the corner before we were even halfway down the street. We circled in front of Mrs. O’Murray’s house, and the bike’s wheel struck a root protruding from the pavement. The front tire wobbled, and Connor lost his balance, sending both of us toppling to the ground. Connor landed with an oomph, and my knee cracked against the jagged piece of concrete jutted up by the root. Pain shot through my leg, and I hissed in a breath.
“I’m sorry, Poppy.” He groaned and pushed to his hands and knees, starting toward me in a crawl. “Are you—”
“Shit, Con!” Brandon shouted. His rusted bike clattered to the pavement, and his shoes scuffed the sidewalk when he skidded to a stop, then crouched beside me with narrowed eyes. “You okay?”
A steady stream of blood trickled down my leg, and my knee throbbed with pain. I’d seen Brandon take falls like this and never cry, and I didn’t want him to think I was some wussy girl. “I’m fine,” I managed through gritted teeth.
Connor’s gaze dropped to my knee. His eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet. “I think she needs stitches.” He was already halfway to Mrs. O’Murray’s gate. “I’ll get help.”
Brandon snatched a twig from the sidewalk and chucked it at Connor’s back, missing, most likely on purpose. “Shut up, Con. She’s fine.” He brushed the dirt from my skinned flesh. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Ow!” Flinching, I yanked my leg away with a scowl. “Don’t touch it.”
“I’m getting Mrs. O’Murray.” The hinges to the gate creaked when Connor opened it.
I didn’t want Mrs. O’Murray coming out and making a fuss. Plus, the longer I stayed there, the closer I came to giving in to the sob lodged and waiting in the back of my throat.
“I’m fine, Connor.” I forced a smile. “I’m just gonna go home and get a bandage.” But when I stood and placed my full weight on my leg, my knee buckled.
Brandon steadied me. With a shake of his head, he turned around, placed his hands on his knees, and squatted. “Come on. I’ll carry you.”
I didn’t hesitate one second. I hopped onto Brandon’s back and wrapped my arms around his sweaty neck. Pain lanced through my leg when I bent my knee, but I ignored it.
“Hold on.” He hooked his arms underneath my legs, then stood, and started down the sidewalk.
Connor jogged up beside us, eyebrows drawn together and a soft frown on his lips. “Don’t drop her.”
Brandon sighed. “I’m not gonna. God, Con.” Halfway down the street, Brandon chuckled. “You’re just like a little possum clinging to me.”
“I don’t want to be a possum. Those things are ugly."
