These Gentle Wounds Read Online Free PDF Page B

that’s on my mind.
    â€œDo you think Jim will make me go? I mean, you’re … ” The word “leaving” gets trapped deep in my throat. I can’t even say it, so I snap the band around my wrist. I’m not spinning, but that little bit of pain feels better than thinking of Kevin going off to school somewhere and leaving me alone.
    He looks away like he’s afraid of his own answer. “We have over a year before I go to college, if I go away. Who knows, I might stay here and commute. State has a good culinary program. Or maybe Mr. Meyers will give me that sous-chef job he keeps hinting at.”
    I pull my sweatshirt free and walk over to the railing. I put my arms out and spin around. When I close my eyes, the whole world feels like nothing but air and I’m floating in the middle of it, one of those fluffy bits you get when you blow a dead dandelion; the ones you’re supposed to catch and make a wish on.
    â€œAnyhow,” I hear him say, “I don’t think my dad is going to send you anywhere if he has a say in it.”
    My lips press together. I don’t answer. Jim is a good guy, but who knows? Maybe he’ll see this as his opportunity to get rid of me once and for all.
    Kevin’s feet scramble against the shingles as he follows behind me. I kind of wish I’d never told him how badly I want to step off.
    â€œIce?” he calls from somewhere, but I don’t open my eyes to find out where. As I’m whirling around, it sounds as if his voice is everywhere at once.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œIt’ll be okay.” There isn’t one note of doubt in his voice. Kevin has always been able to get what he wants. Somewhere in the soup of our DNAs, his dad’s must have made all the difference. He thinks telling me it will be okay will actually make it okay, like he has some direct line to the universe. I know it isn’t true. Saying it doesn’t just make it happen, not even for Kevin. But sometimes it helps to know he thinks that way.
    It’s part of what makes Kevin my best friend. My only friend, if I’m honest. The guys on the hockey team are okay. I don’t think it’s that they like me. But they like that I can stop the pucks that come flying toward me. They’d put up with almost anything for that.
    â€œCome on, time’s up,” Kevin says, waiting for me to go back through the window first and locking it behind us. I know he’s never going to take a chance that I’ll turn around and do something stupid.
    I flip through the book that Kevin’s supposed to be writing about for his class, but my head isn’t really in it. “Focus,” he keeps telling me, but it isn’t that my mind is wandering off; it’s that I keep waiting for the front door to open and for Jim to come home and sort everything out.
    Finally, finally, finally, I hear the door. Kevin and I look at each other and grab the paperwork, flying downstairs.
    â€œMan, today kicked my ass,” Jim says when he sees us. “Anyone want to grab me a beer?”
    He does some kind of office work for one of the auto companies, but he comes home looking like he’s been hauling car parts all day. Usually he takes a shower before he even wants to speak to us.
    I can feel the weight of Jim’s eyes on me. They’re brown, like Kevin’s. They both narrow them, like Jim is doing, when they know something’s up.
    I dart into the kitchen to grab him a beer, holding my breath when I open it. Beer always smells like the old house. Like my father.
    I can’t afford to spin now.
    I lean against the door frame, trying to listen to what they’re saying in the other room. Kevin’s voice is tense and quiet, so I know he’s telling Jim about the letter. I snap the band on my wrist a couple of times, take a deep breath, and walk back to the living room.
    They stop talking when I walk in, and their deliberate quiet