Page 62 of Saddle and Scent
That voice.
Squeaky with the particular kind of adolescent concern that comes from caring too much and not knowing how to express it properly.
Callum.
But not grown-up Callum with his careful control and measured responses.
This is teenage Callum, all sharp edges and protective instincts he doesn't know how to handle.
"She doesn't have sun deficiency anything, Callum. It's iron deficiency, and it has nothing to do with laying in the sun."
My own voice, younger and more argumentative, rising from wherever childhood memories go to hide.
I sound so sure of myself, so ready to fight about everything, even when I'm clearly wrong.
"Junebug, you're now a ladybug with how red you are."
Wes, of course.
Even as a kid, he couldn't resist making jokes, especially when things got tense. His voice has that particular quality it gets when he's trying to lighten the mood but is actually worried underneath all the humor.
"My Dad's coming with the truck and will bring her to the hospital."
Beckett, steady and practical even at fifteen, already the caretaker of the group.
Always the one with a plan, always thinking three steps ahead while the rest of us were still figuring out step one.
"It's not that serious," I hear myself protest, but the words sound weak even in memory.
Then Callum's finger flicking against my sunburned arm, and the sharp sting that follows.
The way I stared at the red mark his touch left behind, the shock of pain that was somehow worse because it came from him.
"Ow! It stings!"
And then the tears, sudden and overwhelming, the kind of crying that comes from being hurt and embarrassed and overwhelmed all at once.
The way my voice cracked, the sob that escaped before I could stop it.
Being on the verge of tears turning into full-blown sobbing, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes breathing feel impossible.
"Shit! Fuck! Damn it!"
All three of them, cursing in unison, their panic immediate and absolute.
The way they all started talking at once, voices overlapping in their desperate attempt to fix what had gone wrong.
"Don't cry, Bell, please don't cry."
"We'll fix it, I promise we'll fix it."
"Ice cream, we'll get you ice cream, and anything else you want."
"Please stop crying, Sweetpea, please."
Callum's voice, smaller than the others, carrying the weight of guilt and something deeper.
"I'm sorry, Bell. I never want you to be hurt. You have to be more careful taking care of yourself, okay?"
