One girl compressed her heart-shaped lips into a thin line.
And so she resolved to help her brother, because when it's your
fault that something has turned to shit, you have to wash
shit. And so she resolved to help her brother, which meant that,
step one, she had to get him to stop screwing up.
"He took off," the girl said. Her pancake makeup had sweated away during
the day and her acne wasn't so bad that she'd needed it. "He took off
running, like he'd forgotten something important. Looked scared."
"Why don't you go get more beers," Link said angrily, cutting her off,
and Alan had an intuition that Link had become Krishna's Renfield, a
recursion of Renfields, each nesting inside the last like Russian dolls
in reverse: Big Link inside medium Krishna inside the stump that
remained of Darrel.
And that meant that she had to take him out of the company of
his bad companions, which she would accomplish through the
simple expedient of scaring the everlasting fuck out of them.
She sulked off and the remaining girl looked down at her swinging toes.
"Where'd he go, Link?" Alan said. If Krishna was in a hurry to go
somewhere or see something, he had an idea of what it was about.
Link's expression closed up like a door slamming shut. "I don't know,"
he said. "How should I know?"
The other girl scuffed her toes and took a sip of her beer.
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