Kids These Days

Chapter 31: Finn

"If there's anything still in the wound -- dirt, debris, bits of metal -- the skin is going to close around it and cause you a lot of grief. I wasn't joking about the dangers of infection. This could destroy your arm. Permanently."

Ronan nods solemnly. "I understand."

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? If it's the cost you're worried about, I can move some money around --"

"We can't go to the hospital," I repeat, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please. You have to take our word on this."

Floyd looks like he wants to ask a million more questions, but settles for a sigh and a mumbled curse. "Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this, but... alright. I'll do it." At the sight of our relieved expressions, he continues in a more serious tone, "On one condition. When I'm done stitching Ronan up, you two are going to tell me what the hell is actually going on. I've been around the block enough times to know this isn't a skateboard accident. I don't like it when people lie to me, but I know you two are probably scared out of your minds, so I'll let it slide. For now. But when I ask for the truth, you better tell me the truth, 'cause otherwise we aren't going to the hospital. We're going straight to the police."

***

An hour later, Floyd and I are sitting on the kitchen bar-stools, nursing our cream sodas. We're the only two people in the family who drink them, which is fine by me. More for us.

Ronan is in the attic room, presumably sleeping off one of the worst days of his life. I don't want to think about how much it hurt to disinfect and stitch his shoulder. My stomach rolls over when I picture the needle jabbing in and out of his skin, or the way he gritted his teeth so he wouldn't cry --

Floyd puts a hand on my shoulder, like he can tell what I'm thinking and knows it isn't pretty. Suddenly I feel like the one who should be crying. Which doesn't make sense at all, because I didn't get shot in the shoulder. I'm the reason Ronan got hurt. I lost my cool in the parking lot. I put my friends in danger.

I thought Fish was the one with the magical powers, Ronan said. But he was wrong. The only magical power I have is the ability to screw everything up.

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind," says Floyd. "Wanna talk?"

I don't. All I want to do is close my eyes and forget today ever happened. But I made a promise to tell the truth, and I don't want to add "liar" to my list of moral failings as well.

So I tell him everything. I tell him about the woman in the desert, our conversation with Dolores, Rachel's obsession with owning the town... even though half of it sounds like bullshit I made up on the spot, Floyd listens along politely, interrupting for clarification and nothing more.

When I'm finished with my story he pats me on the back again. "I'm sorry you and your friends went through this," he says. "That's too much for six high-schoolers to handle alone. You should be enjoying your summer, not worrying about Rachel Clairvaux."

"I never told you her full name," I say, sniffing slightly.

"It's not the first time I've heard of her. Rachel Clairvaux has been a plague to this town long before you showed up." Floyd's wind-burnt face darkens, and I think back to the first words he spoke to me: I'm not getting involved in this Clairvaux nonsense. If she makes an offer for my ranch, I'm selling.

My hands go clammy around the soda bottle. "You're not still thinking of selling the ranch to her, are you?"

"What? Of course not. I changed my mind after I saw what she did to that historic house on Main Street. No respect for the past, that woman. She'd rather replace this town with a casino and suck all the life out of the desert to satisfy her own ambitions."