How Huge the Night by Heather Munn

coming up, and the babble of voices from the living room—he stepped out the door and closed it, pushed the heels of his hands against his temples. If only they would all go away …
    “Wow,” said Magali. “ She’s— ” She saw Julien, and her jaw dropped. “Pierre! Pierre! He did it! Right? And you messed him up too. C’mon, tell me you did.”
    Julien slumped against the wall and nodded.
    “All right! ”
    “ Shut up ,” Julien growled. “Did you see her? Did you? She’s gonna go home and make me an enemy for life .”
    “ Pierre ? What do you care?” He bared his teeth at her, and she recoiled. “Okay, okay, sorry …”
    Mama put her head out the door. “Is Madame Rostin gone? She left her purse.”
    “I’ll take it, Mama,” Magali said quickly, and took the big black purse. “I can catch her.” Benjamin turned without a word and followed her down the stairs.
    “Julien. Come in here to the kitchen, and I’ll make you something . The sewing circle’s over. Come.” The scrapes of chairs and shoes on the floor were jabs of pain in his skull.
    “My head, Mama. It hurts.”
    “Come.”
    She felt his skull all over for what hurt most. She put a steaming bowl of tea in front of him, and he made a face at the bitter smell. “It’s willow. La mère Cagni in Bassano used to swear by it. It works.”
    The sound of footsteps at the top of the stairway; heavy steps; Papa. Oh no.
    Papa walked in and said nothing, just looked at him and sat down. “Do we all have to drink that vile-smelling brew?” he asked plaintively.
    Mama laughed. “Tea or coffee?” she asked.
    Papa sighed. “Coffee’s up to forty francs a kilo.” Mama nodded. There was silence while she poured him verveine tea.
    “Well,” said Papa. Julien looked down, studying the patterns of steam in his bowl. “So. You tried a little ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay …’”
    If Julien remembered rightly, the end of the quote was: “saith the Lord.”
    “I—”
    “You punched that young man in the teeth with quite visible pleasure,” Papa continued in a dry tone. “It was not the sort of look I expected to see on my son’s face.”
    Julien winced. Even that hurt. The pain was descending from his head into his neck; he imagined shards of glass working their way down. He shut his eyes.
    He heard Mama, her voice sounding far away: “Martin, don’t you think this can wait till he’s recovered a little?” He heard his father’s sigh. “As always, Maria, you are right.”
    He felt Mama’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m putting you to bed.”
     
     
    It was dark, and his head felt full of wet cotton. The towel Mama had packed with snow for his eye was on the floor, and his pillow was wet and cold. He sat up gingerly. His head did feel better.
    There was a knock. “Julien?” said Magali’s muffled voice. “Want supper?”
    “Um. Sure.”
    She came in with a tray. “It’s still warm. Kind of. How d’you feel?” She flicked the light on, and he shut his eyes against the stabbing glare.
    “How do I look?”
    “You oughta be in a beauty contest.” She grinned.
    It was leek and potato soup, and he was surprisingly hungry. He ate carefully, Magali watching him. “Boy, Julien, I wish you’d been there. It was priceless.”
    “Been where?”
    “We caught up with her right outside the train station, and boy did she look mad. So I gave her back the purse, and then Benjamin starts talking faster than me .” Her eyes were wide. “She couldn’t get a word in edgewise!”
    “ What! ”
    “All about how it was an accident and you and Pierre had worked it out and you’d both gotten punished already, and just as I’m opening my mouth to back him up, Pierre walks around the corner and almost barges into us. That’s when things got hot.”
    “Hot?”
    “He was seriously swaggering. Him and those older guys he goes around with, and this big fat smirk on his face you just wanted to wipe off. I think that’s why she hit