“I’m shy, and honestly, it’s not just that. You seem a bit wrapped up in your brother.”
“Yeah. I haven’t seen him in three years. I’ve missed him.”
“Maybe I don’t get it because I’m an only child.”
“Maybe.” I straighten, now that he’s out of my face.
“I guess that’s why you love him unconditionally.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s a gnarly looking bastard, isn’t he?” Shane laughs.
“Is that a joke?” I ask, totally missing the humor. “I don’t find it funny.”
Balled fists have my nails pressing into my palms.
“It’s not a joke. The scars are just a bit in your face.”
“They don’t make him ugly, and I don’t appreciate you saying anything that implies that.”
A car horn honks outside.
Shane sighs. “That’s probably my dad. I am sorry. I won’t comment on him again, and no more clown talk from now on, either, okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He kisses my forehead and stands. Pulling me up, my palms sticky against his, he quickly breaks our hold and swipes his hands down his pants, wiping the hand I touched with my left hand—the scarred one—slightly longer, and I can’t help but notice.
The car honks again. “Your dad is getting impatient.”
“Yeah.”
I follow Shane to the foyer, where he quickly steps into a battered pair of sneakers before opening the front doors to blinding car lights.
Something comes from his mouth as I stare out into the night, but it’s silent to me.
A brightly painted figure, standing in front of the car, has all my attention. Stains cover his polka dot shirt and striped pants. Blood on the fingertips of his gloves that wave to me. The stark white paint on his face cracking on his weathered skin. Black eyes become lost to the night as Shane snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“Lancie, I said I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Right. Okay.” I force a smile.
He leans in and places a kiss on my cheek that I don’t reciprocate.
“Night.”
“Night,” I reply, granting his dad a wave.
He doesn’t notice, he’s too busy watching the dials on the car dashboard, probably eyeing the time.
It’s getting late—at least eleven by now.
Shane stepping out of my line of vision reveals nothing but lit-up darkness—the painted figure, nowhere to be seen.
The car reverses down the gravel, Shane’s dad driving that way he always does, which sets my nerves on edge.
I step outside, lingering on my porch, accompanied by a chill that makes it to my soul.
