Page 28 of The Bully's Dare

My hands have fisted in my sleep. Slowly, I unclench them.

I’m still trying to breath, still trying to slow the adrenaline rush coursing in my veins, when there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Kenzi?” Pearl opens the door and steps inside. Her hair is pinned up to her skull and she’s wearing a silk robe.

My mother has moved up in the world. She’s traded the phrase “I love you” for “where on Long Island do you spend your summers?”

It’s worked out pretty well for both of us.

I still have the headphones half twisted around my head, and I untangle them and shove the Walkman to the side.

Her eyebrows knit as she looks at me. “Are you alright?”

I nod. My tongue feels thick and it’s hard to peel it from the roof of my mouth. “Sorry,” I say, “was I…making noises?”

I shout in my sleep, sometimes. But she shakes her head. “No. I just…had a strange feeling that you needed me.”

My heart gets tight in my chest, but I say nothing.

She motions to the bed. “Room for one more?”

“Yeah.”

I scoot over. Pearl slides into bed with me and puts her arm around my middle.

“It’s us against the world, darling,” she murmurs.

She smells like wax and coconut oil. I feel suddenly exhausted, like I’ve just come back from the trenches of war. I pass out in her arms, against the rise and fall of her chest.

11

Donovan

Kenzi is gone for a total of four days, three nights, and six hours.

But who’s counting?

I’m the first standing at the tip of the finger pier when Sweet Serenity makes her slow turn into the neck of the marina.

The boat purrs around into the slip, Terry at the helm. Kenzi is stretched out on the bow like a cat, sitting on a towel, headphones hanging around her neck. Her legs are incredibly long underneath her cut-off jeans and she has her shirt tied in a knot underneath her breasts, exposing her soft belly. Her oversized sunglasses turn my way and she smiles.

She’s such a sight for sore eyes, it makes me ache.

The boat pulls into the slip. She comes to the side and I toss her a rope.

“Missed me?” she asks.

“You wish.”

The engine hasn’t even cut, but she jumps from the boat to the pier and we take off down the dock.

Smoke fills my lungs and fills my skull.

I close my eyes and drop my head against the wall.

I feel hazy, quiet, relaxed. All my tense, tight muscles gain some slack.

Someone’s laundry tumbles and thumps in the machine beside mine. The laundry room smells like Clorox, handfuls of earth, and weed. People so rarely come in here, Kenzi and I have claimed this spot for our intermediate smoke breaks.

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