Free Center Ice by Cate Cameron Page A

was so doped up on them that I couldn’t talk. I lay on my bed with my arms bandaged up and stretched out to the sides like I was about to make a crooked snow angel, and I stared at the ceiling. The scratches on my arms stretched from the top of my elbow to halfway down my forearm, and once they scabbed up, it’d hurt like hell to change the angle my elbows were set at. The doctor had suggested keeping them almost straight, just bent a little, until they scabbed, so I was trying to do that, even if I looked like an idiot. And even with all of that to worry about, I still had a good chunk of my brain that was wondering about Tyler and why he hadn’t been in the park that morning, and whether I’d somehow scared him off.
    I dozed off at some point, and when I woke up Sara was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a paperback.
    “Hey,” I said groggily.
    She smiled up at me. “Hi. You were asleep, but I wanted to be here in case you needed anything.”
    I knew I should stay strong, but I was drugged, and hurt, and, damn it, the kid was really sweet. So my words were as gruff as I could make them, but my tone was way gentler than I’d intended when I said, “I’m fine.”
    “Do your arms hurt?”
    “Not right now, no. I think they might if I tried to move them.”
    She beamed. “That’s why I’m here! So you don’t have to. I already asked Mom, and she said it was okay to bring the TV in here from the rec room, if you want. We’d have to keep it by the door, I think, because all the hookups are in the other room, but still…we can if you want.”
    “Is she trying to keep me out of the rec room? In case Miranda goes in there?”
    Sara’s eyes widened. “No! It was my idea. I just thought you might be more comfortable in here. But you’re not in jail. I don’t think you’re even grounded…but I don’t really know about all that.”
    What the hell would I be grounded for? I was the victim here. “Where’s Miranda?”
    “Working on the garage,” Sara said. “Mom said she had to do half, and you could do the rest when your arms healed, but Miranda said there was no way to just half do it because she had to take everything out to get it organized right, so Mom said fine, she should do the whole thing. I helped her for a bit, and so did Matt, but she was being so crabby we both quit.” Sara stopped talking just long enough to take a deep breath, then said, “She’s not normally like this. She’s just…” She shook her head. “She’s having trouble adjusting, Mom says. But I think there’s something more.”
    “Look, Sara…” It was surprisingly difficult to sit up without changing the angle at which my elbows were bent, but I managed it. Abs of steel. “I appreciate it that you’re trying to make me feel welcome. And I know you love your sister. But she doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her. I don’t care what she’s upset about, I just want her to shut up and leave me alone. You know?”
    “Yeah, but you guys are both nice, really. Right? You could get along if you would just stop being so…” She stopped talking when she saw my expression and grinned nervously before making her face serious again. “ Both of you,” she said in a quiet, firm voice that reminded me of her mother. “You’re both ‘having trouble adjusting,’ and you’re both mad about stuff, and it’s making both of you say stupid, mean things.” She checked over her shoulder and then leaned in. “Did you seriously pour a bag of birdseed on her head?”
    “She started it!”
    “And who would she say started it?”
    I flopped melodramatically back onto the bed. “Oh my god, you’re like a tiny guidance counselor. Leave me alone.”
    She giggled. “Mom’s trying to help, too,” she added. “It’d be…” she stopped, then rolled onto her knees and crouched there at the side of the bed like she was getting ready to say her prayers. “It’d be good if you could stop talking about…you know.