"Stop it," she said. "*Now*."
He fell silent and narrowed his eyes as he dangled there, thinking about
this. Then he spat in her face. Marci shook her head slowly as the gob
of spit slid down her eyebrow and over her cheek, then she spat back,
nailing him square on the tip of his nose. She set him down and wiped
her face with a glove.
Davey started toward her, and she lifted a hand and he flinched back and
then ran behind their mother, hiding in her tangle of wires and
hoses. Marci gave the flashlight a series of hard cranks that splashed
light across the washing machine and then turned to Alan.
"That's your brother?"
Alan nodded.
"Well, I see why you didn't want me to come home with you, then."
#
Kurt was properly appreciative of Alan's bookcases and trophies, ran his
fingertips over the wood, willingly accepted some iced mint tea
sweetened with honey, and used a coaster without having to be asked.
"A washing machine and a mountain," he said.
"Yes," Alan said. "He kept a roof over our heads and she kept our
clothes clean."
"You've told that joke before, right?" Kurt's foot was bouncing, which
made the chains on his pants and jacket jangle.
"And now Davey's after us," Alan said. "I don't know why it's now. I
don't know why Davey does *anything*. But he always hated me most of
all."
"So why did he snatch your brothers first?"
"I think he wants me to sweat.
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