Page 10 of Five Stolen Rings

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Page 10 of Five Stolen Rings

“Wow,” I say again. If Jack can do it, so can I. I hold upone finger, and for a second, he just stares at it, his eyes wide. Then he swallows and nods.

He grabs my hand to hold it steady, and then he pokes the needle into my finger. It stings, a hot shock of pain, and I bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes.

I will not cry in front of Jack. I don’t want him to think I’m a crybaby.

Except—

Itreallyhurts. I sniffle as I pull my hand back, looking at my finger. A bead of blood is welling up; it trickles down to the bottom of my finger as another one rises in its place.

“It’s bleeding a lot,” I say, my voice tremulous. When I look at Jack, his expression is anxious.

“Maybe I poked it too hard,” he says, his gaze darting to mine.

My face screws up, and finally the sting is too much to bear; I start to cry.

“Don’t,” Jack says quickly, waving his own not-bleeding hand to quiet me. “Don’t cry! Don’t cry—it’s okay!”

“You said it wouldn’t hurt,” I wail as I cradle my hand. “You said?—”

“I thought it wouldn’t hurt!” he says, cutting me off with a voice full of worry. “I didn’t?—”

“I’mtelling!”

“No!” he says. “I’msorry!I’m sorry, Stella. Look”—he holds up the needle—“I’ll poke my finger harder too, see? So then you won’t be alone.” And before I can protest, he jabs the needle into his finger.

“Jack!” I say through my tears.

“Ow,” he says as his finger begins to bleed too. His lip puckers out and his chin trembles, and before I know it, he’s crying too.

“I’mtelling!” I shout as I scramble up and crawl to the entrance of the treehouse.

“No,I’mtelling!” he says as tears trickle down his cheeks.

“I didn’t even do anything to you!” I yell. I descend the ladder, wiping my furious tears on my sleeve.

Thirty minutes and two Band-Aids later, both Jack and I are grounded for a full week.

By day two I miss him horribly.

By day four, I’ve scribbled an apology note to him, which I convince my best friend India to deliver. When she comes back, she brings a note from Jack.

Sorry I made you cry and sorry I told on you and sorry I made you bleed too. Let’s not poke the needle so hard next time, or maybe we could just do a pretend blood promise.

I nod as I read his suggestion.

Jack always has the best ideas.

JACK

Stella freaking Partridge.

I loved that girl once—loved her foolishly, desperately, because we were young, and she was beautiful, and I was weak.

She’s still beautiful, but I’m no longer weak.

I thump my chest a few times when I reach my car, catching my breath, trying to get my pulse to behave normally. I’m not a breaking-and-entering kind of guy, whatever Stella may think. I don’t usually enter through windows or dig through someone else’s things.

But Maude Ellery took something from me, something that never belonged to her. So, yeah—I’m going to get it back.