Magic Hands by Jennifer Laurens

down her nose. In her arms was her usual stack of briefings. She set them on the counter, her face concerned as she came to him.
    “You look tired.” She pressed her hands to his face to feel for a temperature.
    “I’m fine, Mom.”
    “Wel , you don’t have a fever.” She picked up her papers.
    “There’s dinner in there. Tofu Mexican casserole.”
    His stomach rol ed. “Sounds great.”
    Cocking her head at him she considered. “You might be anemic.”
    “I’m just tired.”
    “Working hard on the job—that’s good. Keeps the blood flowing. That keeps digestion turned up.”
    Wearily, he nodded and looked back into the refrigerator wishing he had the energy to go back into town and grab a burger.
    “Get some rest. Your body is stil growing. Sleep, good nutrition, and plenty of exercise.”
    Again he nodded.
    She left and he shut the fridge door, the grumbling in his stomach loud. Then he heard the unmistakable crunch of chips being chewed.
    He whirled. Lizzie stood in the doorway with a grin and a bag of Doritos. He almost lunged for them.
    She darted out of his reach, laughing. “Get your own bag.”
    “Where did you find that?” he whispered.
    “Had one of my friends pick it up for me.” She held out the bag and he reached for it again but she snatched it back.
    “Tel me about Rachel.”
    That came out of nowhere. “Why do you want to know?”
    “She cal ed a minute ago.”
    He made another grab for the bag but she twisted away.
    “She your new girlfriend?”
    Just thinking about Rachel, about that whole sordid story, made him angry and he made another grab for the chips, this time wrapping his sister in a tight squeeze trying to wrestle it from her. “Give me the chips.”
    “For – get – it,” she grunted, struggling.
    “I’m starving.”
    “I – don’t – care!” Her smal er body wiggled free and she danced out of reach with a teasing smile that made him growl.
    “Rachel as in Rachel Baxter?”
    “No.”
    Lizzy dangled the bag in front of his nose and his shoulders drooped on a heavy sigh. “Forget it.” He resigned himself to a night of starvation but she fol owed him back to the fridge.
    “Okay, okay.” She held out the bag. Greedily he took it.
    “Easy there, pup.”
    “If you’d been chained to a chair, forced to listen to girl’s gossip and whine for five hours without a break to take a leak, or eat, or anything else, you’d be a bear too.” The first chip was pure heaven. He closed his eyes and moaned. “Man these are good.”
    Lizzie laughed. “They’re just chips. Who’s this slave driver you’re working for?”
    “Miss Chachi.” He sat at a barstool and took another chip out, staring at it as if it were gold, before placing it in his mouth.
    “And you’re taking it?” Reaching over, Lizzie stole a chip.
    “That doesn’t sound like you.”
    “I was broke, Liz. A year without a job wil do that. I’ve gotta save up.”
    “Stil ,” she crunched. “This is America.”
    “But she’s not from here.”
    “So?”
    He shrugged. “Her work ethic is more sweat shop, I guess.”
    “Boy, have you changed.”
    He didn’t like her implication. “What do you mean?”
    “The Cort Davies I knew wouldn’t just rol .”
    “Wel sometimes you just have to suck it up, and obviously you haven’t figured that out yet.” She reached for another chip but he jerked the bag out of her reach. “It’s a sign of maturity,” he told her.
    “Yeah, right.” She stood, wiped her hands on her jeans.
    “Whatever. That chick cal ed.”
    He paused before taking another bite. “What did she say?”
    “Just, ‘tel him that Rachel cal ed.’ It’s Rachel Baxter, isn’t it?”
    He wondered if his sister had heard any of the strange rumors. “You had a class with her, right?”
    She nodded, taking a soda from where it was hidden in the further most cabinet.
    “You sneak,” he condemned.
    “A girl’s gotta eat.” She popped off the top. “I know her,