Chapter 6
STICK A FORK IN HIM
Sera: High School
Atypical Friday night in our little town meant dressing to theme for Thane and Bash’s basketball game and yelling until my throat was hoarse.
There was no other time in the whole world when standing shoulder to shoulder in a large crowd sounded like a good time, but basketball games were different.
I happily crammed like a sardine with my fellow classmates to scream my guts out at sweaty athletes until the final buzzer rang.
It gave me joy… and also an excuse to watch the specimen that was Thane Donnelly without looking like a creeper.
The stands cleared as we ran onto the floor, jumping and hugging to celebrate our championship win.
Life. Was. Perfect. Bash came to wipe his sweat all over me—as big brothers do—but my eyes were on Thane.
He carried himself with the confidence of a man but smiled like a little boy who had just found the perfect stick on an adventure.
My heart stuttered at the sight of him: sweaty hair dripping in his eyes, chest still heaving from the adrenaline rush of making the winning shot.
A swarm of our classmates fought for the turn to congratulate him, and I watched in slow motion as he took selfies with his many admirers.
I hated that he made my stomach fill with butterflies, because I didn’t want to be anything like all the other girls in school who loved him.
He was Mr. Popular, and I… was not the female counterpart of that.
The only reason I was in an adjacent social circle with him was because I was Sebastian Spencer’s kid sister.
I hated the precedence that came along with that, but the VIP perks weren’t bad.
Then again, it was hard to make friends, because most girls just wanted to come hang out at my house so they could gawk at Bash and Thane by the pool or out on the court.
I learned pretty quickly which girls liked me for me, and which ones were motivated by the attractiveness of my older brother.
There was only one I trusted completely, and that’s because she and I had been friends since first grade, and we gagged about stinky Bash and Thane together.
That girl was Ruby. She was my ride-or-die, and the only one who knew how I really felt about my hot next-door neighbor.
I walked out to my car with Ruby and a cackle of acquaintances—ten conversations going simultaneously. My face hurt from smiling, but I couldn’t stop.
“Hey,” I said, slipping my arms into my coat and shrugging it on, “are you coming over to my house for the afterparty?”
Ruby shook her head. “Can’t. It’s my turn to babysit Grandma. My parents are out on a date, and my sister stayed home just long enough to come to the game. I already owe her big time. If I’m late, she’ll kill me, and Grandma will probably get lost in the yard again.”
I sighed. I hated being at those parties alone.
Thirty of the most popular of our classmates would be invited to a pool party after whatever sport was playing on Friday nights.
In the warm weather, it was the swimming pool; in the cold, it was billiards in the basement.
It usually ended up closer to fifty kids before the night ended, and I felt like a stranger in my own house.
No, more like a ghost. No one even noticed I was there.
I just floated from room to room, looking for a place to exist, but eventually settled in my favorite chaise by the window in my room with a good book.
“Okay. Well, you got to come to the game at least. Thanks for coming with me,” I said as we parted ways and headed to our own cars.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Of course! Pedicures at eleven!”
She gave me an excited squeal and ducked into her car.
I slammed my own door and sat in the cold, my breath fogging up the windshield within seconds.
I turned on the ignition and shivered until my old car warmed up before making the trek to my house.
My favorite spot in my room beckoned to me the whole drive, and my thoughts ran so far ahead of me, they reached home before I did.
I glanced at the clock on the stove as I darted through the kitchen and scurried up the stairs before my house filled with people.
I slipped into my baggy flannel pants, oversized T-shirt, and wool socks, switched my contacts for glasses, and pulled my hair into a messy bun.
Then, to finish my complete transformation into a really bad “before photo,” I brushed my teeth and clicked in my retainer.
I jogged down the hallway toward my room, and just as I reached my door, a voice stopped me.
“Sera, what are you doing? Everyone is going to be here in, like, twenty minutes and you haven’t done the dishes.”
I turned toward Bash and pushed my glasses up on my nose. “What dishes?” I asked.
“Did you not see Mom’s note on the kitchen counter? She asked you to do dishes when you got home. Her and Dad are at the Donnellys’ house playing games.”
I imagined half of the cool kids at school seeing me all nerded-up, and my chest tightened.
“Will you do them for me just this once? I’m in my PJs!” I asked, my voice carrying the tension my body was feeling.
“Nope. I still need to shower.”
“Come on, Bash. I do yours all the time! Please?” I begged.
“There is no way I’m going to smell like sweat and stinky shoes. Bailey Jackson is coming tonight, and I heard from a few people at school that she has a crush on me,” he said, his stupid face grinning from ear to ear.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Bash interrupted me.
“Tick-tock, Sera. If you keep arguing with me in the hallway, I’ll be indisposed in the shower when people arrive, and you’ll have the pleasure of welcoming our guests—looking like that.” His eyes looked me over and he snickered.
“Fine,” I huffed, grabbing my phone and earbuds.
As I stomped past him on the stairs, he punched my arm and said, “Good luck. Mom made pancakes, and there’s a ton of things to hand wash.”
I ran to the kitchen, popped my headphones in, and turned on my nineties pop playlist. I frantically filled the sink with hot, soapy water and the dishwasher with everything it could hold.
Every few seconds I glanced out the window toward the driveway to see if anyone had arrived, then breathed a sigh of relief when no one had.
The chorus of the Goo Goo Dolls’ Iris really sucked me in, and by the second verse I was singing at the top of my lungs.
That was my first mistake.
My second was leaving the back door unlocked.
Just as I was really taking the song home, Thane crept up behind me and joined in on the harmonies. I screamed, whipped around, and before I could come to my senses, I stabbed him firmly in the hand with the fork I was holding.
I gasped when his scream matched my own. Where our voices had been harmonizing in song one second, they were harmonizing in terror the next. When I came to my senses about what I had done, I yanked the fork out from his flesh and dropped it onto the floor.
Thane’s eyes grew wide. “You stabbed me!” he yelled.
“You scared me!” I yelled back.
“So you have free will to just stab me, then?”
“I didn’t mean to! I had no idea you were there, and I acted on instinct. I’m so sorry!” I reached for his wounded hand. “Here, let me see it.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” He held it to his chest protectively. “You’re not coming within an inch of it.”
I shot him a look that could kill. He hesitated for a moment and then surrendered when blood filled the wound and spilled over onto the floor.
“Fine. But only because I need a bandage. Your mom will kill me if I get blood on her couches downstairs.”
Downstairs. Everyone would be arriving any minute, and I still had a few pans left to wash.
I glanced around and did the only thing I could think to do—besides stab the cute neighbor with flatware.
I grabbed the two dirty pans from the edge of the sink, threw one in the dishwasher—which my mom would kill me for later—and shoved the other one inside the oven.
“There. That’ll have to do for now,” I said, out of breath. I wrapped a paper towel around the four tiny circles of blood between his thumb and index finger and pulled him toward my bathroom. “Now, come upstairs and I’ll bandage your hand.”
He sat down on the toilet lid and rested his hand on the counter.
I set out the cotton balls, antiseptic, and bandages, then pulled off the paper towel.
Thane was quiet while I worked, only wincing slightly when I cleaned it with hydrogen peroxide.
I added ointment to it, then finished it up with gauze and paper tape.
He flexed and balled up his fingers, trying out his new range of motion, and stood. He walked to the door, then stopped.
“Hey, Pidge,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“You will never live this down,” he said with a laugh.
I stepped into his space and poked his chest with my finger. “If you tell anyone about this, especially Bash, I’ll make sure the fork goes all the way through next time.”
The corner of his mouth trembled, fighting against the urge to flash that teasing grin my way.
“Is that a threat?” he teased.
I crossed my arms and pushed my glasses up onto my nose.
“It’s a promise.”