want
to use a question, so I let it go. For now.
He emerges a minute later in a clean
shirt.
“We’ve got some gauze and tape up at the
house,” I tell him. “Will you come
with me so that I can bandage you up? Finn and I caught some crabs today. Stay for dinner.”
I’m not asking. It’s an instruction. And surprisingly, Dare nods.
“Ok.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Ok?”
He smiles and the Dare I know is back,
the charming and friendly one. “Yeah. I want to see if they really scream when
you drop them into the pot.”
I must recoil a bit, because he
chuckles. “I’m kidding. That’s a myth, right?”
I nod. “They don’t have vocal cords. But it sounds like a scream sometimes,
when the air bubbles out of their stomachs.”
“That’s a pleasant thought,” Dare says
wryly.
“I just don’t think about it,” I shrug.
“Because they’re delicious.”
“Sadistic yet practical,” Dare observes
as he holds the door open for me.
I grin. “That’s my hamartia.”
Dare shakes his head. “I don’t believe in fatal flaws.”
I pause, staring up at him. “Really? Then what, pray tell, will be your
downfall?”
Dare pauses too, purveying me with his
arms dangling limply at his sides.
“There’s a very good chance it’ll be
you.”
13
TREDECIM
“How
can you possibly say that?” I stutter. “You only just met me.”
Dare’s lip twitches and he starts walking
toward my house. “I’m a very intuitive
guy, Calla-Lily. I guess you can
just call it a feeling.”
I feel like I’m walking on a cloud of
confusion as we make our way to my house. I barely greet Finn when we walk in, and he immediately knows that
something is up, although he doesn’t ask for details. Instead, he just calmly assesses
me.
“Everything ok?” His voice is slow and even, and I nod.
“Yeah.”
He nods. “Good. I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to
eat in my room.”
He turns and disappears into the back
hallway before I can say anything. I suspect that his absence has more to do with Dare’s presence and less
to do with not feeling well. I sigh
as my father comes through the kitchen door.
He glances at Dare. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Dare
answers.
My father is gone for a minute, and comes
back out with a beer. “You looked
like you could use something stronger than lemonade.”
Dare almost looks relieved, and takes a
big gulp. “Thanks.”
As Dare wipes his mouth with one of
smashed up hands, my dad eyes the damage, but doesn’t say anything.
It’s strange how everything is socially
acceptable and comfortable, despite the fact that Dare’s hands are mangled and
everyone is ignoring that fact.
“Let’s go find the first aid kit,” I tell
Dare. He nods and sets his beer
down, and dad heads into the kitchen.
“The crabs will be ready in five,” he
calls over his shoulder.
“We’d better hurry,” I murmur to Dare as
I lead him through the halls. We pass
the Viewing Rooms and the Great Room and never once does Dare say anything about the Funeral Home smell.
After we quietly walk the length of the
halls leading to the basement, I gently push him into a seat outside of my
father’s Embalming Room. “Be right
back,” I tell him.
I push open the door, and ignore the
instant change in temperature that sends goose-bumps forming down my arms and legs. I
also ignore the reason it has to be so cold in here. Cold = Death. It’s an equation that was long ago impressed
in my head. It’s one reason I’d
love to move someplace tropical. Because Warmth = Life.
I dig in a cabinet for gauze and medical tape, rustling around loudly enough that I don’t hear Dare
walk into the room. It’s only when
he speaks from behind me that I jump.
“So, this doesn’t
to use a question, so I let it go. For now.
He emerges a minute later in a clean
shirt.
“We’ve got some gauze and tape up at the
house,” I tell him. “Will you come
with me so that I can bandage you up? Finn and I caught some crabs today. Stay for dinner.”
I’m not asking. It’s an instruction. And surprisingly, Dare nods.
“Ok.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Ok?”
He smiles and the Dare I know is back,
the charming and friendly one. “Yeah. I want to see if they really scream when
you drop them into the pot.”
I must recoil a bit, because he
chuckles. “I’m kidding. That’s a myth, right?”
I nod. “They don’t have vocal cords. But it sounds like a scream sometimes,
when the air bubbles out of their stomachs.”
“That’s a pleasant thought,” Dare says
wryly.
“I just don’t think about it,” I shrug.
“Because they’re delicious.”
“Sadistic yet practical,” Dare observes
as he holds the door open for me.
I grin. “That’s my hamartia.”
Dare shakes his head. “I don’t believe in fatal flaws.”
I pause, staring up at him. “Really? Then what, pray tell, will be your
downfall?”
Dare pauses too, purveying me with his
arms dangling limply at his sides.
“There’s a very good chance it’ll be
you.”
13
TREDECIM
“How
can you possibly say that?” I stutter. “You only just met me.”
Dare’s lip twitches and he starts walking
toward my house. “I’m a very intuitive
guy, Calla-Lily. I guess you can
just call it a feeling.”
I feel like I’m walking on a cloud of
confusion as we make our way to my house. I barely greet Finn when we walk in, and he immediately knows that
something is up, although he doesn’t ask for details. Instead, he just calmly assesses
me.
“Everything ok?” His voice is slow and even, and I nod.
“Yeah.”
He nods. “Good. I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to
eat in my room.”
He turns and disappears into the back
hallway before I can say anything. I suspect that his absence has more to do with Dare’s presence and less
to do with not feeling well. I sigh
as my father comes through the kitchen door.
He glances at Dare. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Dare
answers.
My father is gone for a minute, and comes
back out with a beer. “You looked
like you could use something stronger than lemonade.”
Dare almost looks relieved, and takes a
big gulp. “Thanks.”
As Dare wipes his mouth with one of
smashed up hands, my dad eyes the damage, but doesn’t say anything.
It’s strange how everything is socially
acceptable and comfortable, despite the fact that Dare’s hands are mangled and
everyone is ignoring that fact.
“Let’s go find the first aid kit,” I tell
Dare. He nods and sets his beer
down, and dad heads into the kitchen.
“The crabs will be ready in five,” he
calls over his shoulder.
“We’d better hurry,” I murmur to Dare as
I lead him through the halls. We pass
the Viewing Rooms and the Great Room and never once does Dare say anything about the Funeral Home smell.
After we quietly walk the length of the
halls leading to the basement, I gently push him into a seat outside of my
father’s Embalming Room. “Be right
back,” I tell him.
I push open the door, and ignore the
instant change in temperature that sends goose-bumps forming down my arms and legs. I
also ignore the reason it has to be so cold in here. Cold = Death. It’s an equation that was long ago impressed
in my head. It’s one reason I’d
love to move someplace tropical. Because Warmth = Life.
I dig in a cabinet for gauze and medical tape, rustling around loudly enough that I don’t hear Dare
walk into the room. It’s only when
he speaks from behind me that I jump.
“So, this doesn’t
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