Page 81 of Things We Left Behind
Waylay snickered, and all conversations ceased as everyone turned to look at me.
Knox looked smug. Sloane’s shoulders were shaking withsilent laughter on the other side of Waylay’s blond head. Everyone else looked concerned.
“You okay there, Lucy?” Nash asked from across the table.
“Fine,” I rasped as the pain dissipated.
Sloane dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “I believe you were saying my voice reminded you of a rabid chihuahua. Did you want to continue that thought or—”
Her napkin and salsa spoon fell to the floor as Sloane’s entire body tensed. She let out a high-pitched squeak.
“What’s going on?” Naomi asked from Knox’s right.
“Nothing,” Waylay, Knox, Sloane, and I announced at the same time.
We all managed innocent smiles that didn’t seem to be fooling anyone.
“Naomi, what did you say our reception colors are?” Lina asked, drawing her attention to the other side of the table.
“I didn’t insult him, you little punk,” Sloane hissed to Waylay.
“You were baiting him. That’s just as bad. Trust me. I’m basically the queen of trash talking on the soccer field,” Waylay informed her.
“You have to have my unit dialed up higher,” I accused. It had felt as if my insides were in danger of exiting my body.
“Actually you’re only at an eight. Knox and me figured Sloane had an advantage seein’ as how she’s a girl and has had her period for a few decades.”
“Exactly how old do you think I am?” Sloane asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. Just tell me what mine is set at.”
“You’re a nine.”
Sloane punched the air in victory. “Yes!”
Naomi was watching us again. I held up a taco and gave her a friendly nod. “Take me to a ten,” I told Waylay when Naomi looked away.
“I don’t know. Knox said the girls aren’t allowed to use level ten at the bar anymore since Garth Lipton almost pooped his pants.”
“Take me to ten,” I insisted tersely.
“There’s nothing heroic about shitting your pants, Rollins,” Sloane said under her breath. Her body went rigid again, and the taco she was holding exploded when it hit her plate. “Gah! Waylay, I wasn’t insulting him. I was giving him advice.”
“It sounded like an insult to me. Besides, you swore, and that’s a dollar for the swear jar, which means Aunt Naomi gets to spend extra time in the stupid produce aisle.”
“Waylay, how are your tacos?” Naomi called.
“They’re good. They’d be better without all the slimy weird vegetables in them, but I guess I can suffer through that part,” the kid said.
“Garth Lipton is forty years older than me,” I said to Sloane over the top of Waylay’s head.
“I’m just looking out for you. You could barely handle an eight. I’d hate to see what a ten would do to you. I mean, I’d love it. But I’m being the bigger, more mature adult here,” she whispered back.
“Just because you can’t handle a ten has no bearing on my endurance. I’ll be fine.”
“I am a woman. Two weeks ago, I had cramps so bad I had to lie down on the floor of the public restroomat the mechanic’s garage. AndthenI had to get back up and go do my job for eight hours. I was born to handle a ten.”
“You two aren’t saying mean things, but your tones are getting kinda snippy,” Waylay warned.
“Take me to a ten,” I ordered.
