Page 7 of The Rebel
He handed me a wad of paper tissues and I dampened them with the saline. I had no idea if it was the right thing, just acting intuitively, but it seemed like something Mom would do. Always nurturing with a damp cloth, a hug, a kiss. Steadying Valencia’s chin with my hand, I dabbed at her skin with exquisite care, mindful of not making her jump again. I was aware Oliver was hovering, another tissue at the ready.
“Are you okay?” I murmured, fully immersed in the task of cleaning her upper lip. I cast my glance up to her eyes, the connection with her intense brown eyes causing a flutter in my stomach. For a bizarre moment, time stood still, like being put under a spell, of seeing this girl for the very first time. Which was ridiculous. Valencia Reid had been a regular visitor to our house with her family for cookouts or game nights. But that was a few years ago when Paris was around. In the middle of sophomore year, Paris kicked off into another realm, quitting school so he could concentrate on tennis. It meant training for hours daily, attending tennis camps and playing in tournaments every weekend. So yeah, it had been a while since Valencia had been to our house.
“You need another one?” Oliver offered me a clean tissue, jolting me out of my reverie. It was clear to see that Valencia had grown up since those days when I remembered she used to sit cross-legged on the couch or floor, drawing in a notebook or doing puzzles with Oliver.
“Sure, thanks,” I said, taking it and wiping the last remaining drops of blood. I wanted to linger, to trace my finger across her cheekbone, to feel that small dent below her right eyebrow, for my thumb to outline the curve of her upper lip. “Uh, I think we’re good,” I said, swallowing thickly. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.”
“Do you feel okay?” Oliver asked, crouching right close to her.
“I think so,” Valencia said, smiling at him.
A sharp pang of jealousy surfaced, yet how crazy was that? My 11 year old brother was a kid who held a Harry Potter movie marathon with his friends every year, who ate spinach without complaining and thought sledding was cool. He’d coaxed a smile out of Valencia when I hadn’t. Yet I’d been the one who nursed her back to health.
“I’m sorry I bumped into you,” Oliver said. “I couldn’t stop.”
“It’s okay. It was an accident,” Valencia said. Her eyes tracked to me. “Thanks.”
That was it. A single word of gratitude. But I wanted more. I wanted accolades, eternal praise, more time with her...
Valencia curled her legs under, about to stand. I held my hand out to assist at the same time that Oliver did. She grabbed both of us, and up on her feet, Oliver let go and went to retrieve her upturned sled. I wasn’t so quick to release her, feeling her weight lean against me.
“Can I give you a ride home?” I asked, immediately rephrasing that. “I’m taking you home. You can’t sled anymore.”
Valencia looked around, up to the top of the hill and across to where a bunch of kids were in a huddle. In jackets and hoods and beanies, I couldn’t recognize anyone but I assumed they were her friends. And yet she made no attempt to call or go over to them. She took off her right glove and pushed a loose strand of hair back under her beanie, then gently touched her nose, like she was checking it.
“Is it okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “I think I should go home,” she said. “I can text...”
I butted in, “No, I can give you a ride. Or did you drive?”
“Uh, I came with my friend,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket but dropping her glove in the process. I bentdown to pick it up. She was tapping on her phone, and I butted in again.
“Text her that I’m taking you home,” I said, exerting authority in a take-charge manner.
Her voice was a shaky whisper. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” I said, wondering whether the nosebleed had been more painful than she was letting on.
I nodded to Oliver, who had grabbed his own sled as well. “Hey, let’s go,” I said. “Tell Tyson.”
“One more?” Oliver asked, looking to Tyson for support. “We’ll be real quick.”
I was about to send him a sharp rejection, but their hopeful expressions made me hesitate. If the boys had another run, it would give me a few minutes alone with Valencia. I smiled and hoped I was about to earn a Brother of the Year title. “Sure. But be careful,” I said. “And don’t ram into anybody.” I turned to Valencia, who slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Let’s go.”
She nodded, her gaze darting back to her friend group as she waved and reached out to take her sled from Oliver.
“I’ll take it,” I said, taking control.
“I can,” she said.
“Here, you take this,” I said, swapping her for the first aid kit and her glove. “Everything okay?” I asked.
She looked like she was about to say something, but only nodded. I lightly bumped her elbow, guiding her in the direction of my car,
“Mom went to visit your mom,” she said.
“Yeah?”
