Marney in the Middle

Chapter 19: The Aftermath

The back door flings open, crashing against the outer wall and making me jump. I tear my gaze away from Donny to see who's come out.

Malcolm. He's all glares as he looks at us. At me, actually. When his gaze shifts to Donny, his glare eases up a bit to almost a frown.

"Uh, Marney."

"Hmm," I mumble and look back at Donny as he snakes his arm around my shoulders. His murky blue eyes are turned away but my heart still stutters. His cheeks are tinted with a light pink, and his lips have more color in them, too. My face feels as if it matches.

"She's fine," he says.

I nod to no one in particular. A shiver climbs up my back and arms as a little bit of heat recedes. How late is it anyway? All the street lights and house lights are one, which means it's not bedtime late. But it must be past 8 o'clock. For the first time since.. whenever, I wonder where everyone else is. The house is still empty. I don't even see Reese when I peek inside. A party with no guests isn't a par-tay. It's not even a part. I giggle at my own joke, drawing the attention of both Malcolm and Donny to me. Biting my lip, I stifle the remainder behind my teeth.

Malcolm's big eyebrows knit together, "Marney?"

"I'm fine," I say with a shrug. And I am. I know what I'm doing. Rule number.. three? Wait, no – rule two. There was – er, is a third but hell if I remember what it is. Some of my hair gets blown into my face with a small gust of wind. I bring my hand up to sweep it away, but Donny catches me by the wrist.

"What happened?"

"Huh?" I squint at him and shake my head. He nudges his head toward my hand.

In the center of my right palm is a smear of fresh blood. It's still dripping out around a large, almost toothpick size splinter, imbedded in my pale skin. "Oh."

Malcolm appears beside me, practically wrenching my wrist free of Donny's grip so he can inspect my palm as well. I want to resist him because, well, that's rude, but my muscles feel stringy and useless.

"Must've been from the table," I mutter with a shrug.

"Come on," Malcolm says. "Let's go clean this up."

I let Malcolm lead me away from Donny without a second thought, my mind too wrapped up in the fact that I sorta resemble a pin cushion. The skin around the base of the splinter is pink with irritation where it isn't slick with blood. And walking is difficult in my heels and bone-chilled legs. I wobble like a newborn deer. It's not until we're at the door that I even think about looking at him.

The bad guy is posted up beside the picnic table still, a red cup in either hand. I catch his gaze and a smile flutters to my lips. He appears to return it, but it appears predatory somehow. Which is kind of a weird thought that makes me squint. Donny says something like 'see you in a few,' but we're inside and Malcolm is already closing the door when he opens his mouth to speak.

"What the hell?!" Malcolm whirls around and glares at me.

I jump back from him, gaining freedom from his grip. "What?"

"Why did you kiss him?"

"Ooohh," I say aloud, mainly to myself. I'd actually sort of forgotten about that. My mind flashes fresh with the sensations, my cheeks gaining heat and knees losing strength. I settle into a chair and bite back a smile.

"Well?"

"I don't know," I say in a low voice. It sounds more ashamed than I think I actually feel, but I don't make a move to correct it. Let him think what he will.