Page 29 of The Scars I Bare
“I did not know that. Did you know an eggshell is porous so that the baby bird can breathe while inside?”
Her eyes lit up almost immediately. “No! Do you know what the fastest bird on the planet is?”
“The peregrine falcon.”
She smiled a bright, happy smile, which only confirmed my suspicions.
She did indeed have her mother’s smile.
I caught a glimpse of a missing front tooth, making my heart melt a little more.
“How’d you know that?” She giggled, covering her mouth with her small hands.
“How’d you know?” I pressed.
“I looked it up online.” She shrugged, like it was most obvious answer in the world. Like all five-or six-year-olds in the world looked up random bird facts in their spare time.
“Is my mommy gonna fix your arm?”
“What?” I asked, briefly caught off guard.
Looking down at her slight frame, her head resting atop her arms on the desk, I saw her gaze was now eye-level with my prosthesis. But, unlike many kids her age, there was no wide-eyed look of fear.
Just that flat-out curiosity again.
“That’s why you’re here, right? To get your arm fixed?”
My eyes briefly settled on the flesh-colored hand that rested atop the desk. “Uh, no,” I answered. “I’m afraid that’s as fixed as it’s going to get. But it looks kind of cool, huh?”
She leaned forward a little, examining it with her inquisitive stare. A hesitant finger rose up in the air, hanging there for a moment as indecision wavered in her mind. It didn’t take long before made the choice to go ahead though, placing the tip of her index finger along the top of my fake hand.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, her young mind still trying to make sense of it all.
“Nope,” I answered, knocking on a higher section of it with my fist. “Plastic,” I explained. “All the way up to here.”
Those dark brown irises followed my finger all the way up to the top of my bicep near my shoulder.
“How does it—”
“Mr. Pond?” Cora’s familiar voice called behind me.
Turning around, I was met with a surprised expression as she waited for the middle-aged grocer to gather his things. He’d all but moved in, bringing in several magazines, books, and other things. Realizing it might take a while, Cora stepped out of the doorway and walked in my direction.
“Um, hi?” she said, forming her greeting more like a question rather than a friendly salute. Although she said it nice enough, the meaning came across clear enough.What the hell are you doing here?
Yeah, I guess I deserved that.
“Hi,” I replied awkwardly.
Ah, good. The painfully uncoordinated Dean was back. Excellent. He was always a hit with the ladies.
Actually, I didn’t know that for a fact because this side of me—the all thumbs, couldn’t talk his way out of paper bag—only seemed to come out whenever she was around. It was like, the second Cora turned up, I’d revert to that dorky thirteen-year-old version of myself who thought talking about video games and Star Wars was the way to a girl’s heart.
Clearly, I’d outgrown him.
Or I’d thought I had…until I met Cora Ashcroft.
“Hey, what is your last name now?” I blurted out.
