Page 133 of Test the Ice
Charleigh sits on her butt and stares up at me. “DA!” she repeats, only this time louder.
“He’s corrupted you,” I mutter through a smile.
She smiles at me, her freshly cut tooth peeking through the swollen gum. I sigh. “Don’t worry, baby…he’s corrupted me too.”
I call up the stairs again. “Zoe! I’m leaving without you.”
Her voice echoes, “I’m coming! I’m coming! Jeez!”
My only response is the jingling of my keys.
Charleigh has made her way over to the banister to pull herself up. I quickly bend to snap a photo of her in the little Blue Devils jersey I found in her room this morning, courtesy of Malaki.
Young is printed on the back, the number 5 the size of her entire torso. It fits her like a dress, so I paired it with a cute pair of bloomers I found at Goodwill months ago. I sewed ruffles on the butt to give it some more life, along with her socks so she matched.
I fire the photo off to Malaki, letting him know we’re running late, and as if Charleigh somehow knows, she yells, “Da!”
“He’s at the rink, baby.” I angle my chin up the stairs and raise my voice. “Which is where we should be!”
Zoe’s head appears over the top of the banister, her voluminous dark waves hanging low. “I’m coming!”
“Wow,” I say. “Look at you. Hair done and everything?”
She pretends to be bashful. “Oh, stop it, you.” Then she disappears again.
I snort and glance back at Charleigh. My stomach drops when she isn’t in the same spot she was in a second ago. I spin around in a circle until my sights lock onto her tiny jersey.
“Charleigh!” I shriek.
I’m halfway to her when a blur of blue whooshes forward, heading toward the hard floor from the third stair.
I dive, but her thud comes before mine.
My shoulder bangs against the wall, and Charleigh’s head hits the last stair.
“What was that–” Zoe gasps.
“Charleigh!” Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I scoop her up into my arms.
Her cry is delayed, which is how I know it’s bad.
As if she ran out of air, she pauses and thenscreams.
“Oh shit, Reese.” Zoe is behind me. “Do not panic.”
I pull Charleigh from my chest and freeze.
Blood pours from her forehead, mixing in with her tears as she cries harder.
Zoe presses a towel to the gaping cut, and then we make eye contact.
“Hospital,” I choke out.
“I’ll get the car.”
Forty-Three
MALAKI
