“We’re going, we’re going,” Rusty said.
I said, “I’ll leave the door open a crack.”
“Fine.”
We hurried out of her room and I pulled the door almost shut.
Rusty quietly mouthed, “Did you see that?”
I gave him a dirty look.
He mouthed, “Oh, like you didn’t look.”
Speaking in a normal voice, I said, “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and wash your blood off? I’ll start cleaning up the glass.”
He shook his head. “I’ll help.”
“You’ll get blood on stuff.”
He inspected his hands. They looked as if they’d been smeared with rust-colored paint. Palms up, he closed and opened his fingers. The stickiness made crackling sounds. “Maybe I better,” he admitted. “But you’ve gotta come, too.”
“You’re not scared, are you?”
“Up yours,” he said. He gave me the finger, then turned his back on me, marched to the bathroom at the end of the hall, and vanished through its doorway. A moment later, the door bumped shut. I heard a soft, ringing thump as Rusty locked it. Soon, water began running through the pipes.
I stood alone in the hallway.
And didn’t like it.
Even though we had searched the house, we weren’t necessarily safe. Separated like this, we could be picked off one at a time.
“Slim?” I asked.
“Yeah?” she said from inside her room.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You almost... ?”
She swung the door open so quickly it startled me. She grinned.
She now wore a clean white T-shirt and cut-off jeans and a pair of old tennis shoes that must’ve been white on a distant summer when she’d been Dagny or Phoebe or Zock. Through the thin cotton T-shirt, I could see her bikini top.
Stepping out of her room, she looked down the hall. “Rusty in the john?” she asked.
The water still ran.
“Yeah. He’s washing up.”
She nodded. “Thought so.” Then she looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m sure glad you guys are here. This stuff would’ve scared me silly if I’d been by myself.”
“Are you kidding? Nothing scares you.”
“Everything scares me.”
“Yeah, sure. You’re the bravest person I know.”
A smile broke across her face. “That’s what you think.” She glanced toward the bathroom.
The door remained shut. The water still ran.
Tilting her head back slightly, she stared into my eyes.
Slim’s eyes, pale blue in sunlight, were dark blue in the dimness of the hallway—the color of the summer sky at dusk. Intense, hopeful and nervous, they seemed to be searching for something in my eyes.
She had never stared at me quite that way before. I wondered what it meant.
What if she wants me to kiss her?
Could that be it? I wondered.
Do it and find out.
But maybe that wasn’t what she wanted.
We kept gazing into each other’s eyes. Soon, I was sure that she did want me to kiss her. She didn’t just want it, she was waiting for it. Waiting for me to catch on and take her into my arms and put my lips on hers.
I wanted to do it, too. I ached to do it. I’d been longing to kiss her for so long, and now she was almost begging for my lips.
I couldn’t force myself to move.
Do it! Come on! She wants me to!
I stood there like a tump—except that lumps don’t sweat and tremble.
I felt more frightened than when we’d been searching the house, but this fear was mixed with desire for Slim and disgust with myself for being such a coward.
Just do it!
Making an excuse for myself, I thought, If I try to kiss her now, Rusty might catch us.
The water still ran.
What’s taking him so long, anyway?
Then I thought, Who cares if he sees us kiss? Just go ahead and do it. Do it now before she changes her mind....
A toilet flushed.
The sound of it came like a signal for Slim to shut down the power of her gaze. Whatever’d been going on, it was over. A mild smile lifted the comers of her mouth. With her eyes and smile, she seemed to be saying, “Oh, well. Missed our chance. Maybe next time.”
At least that’s what I think they were telling me. They might’ve been saying, “You dumb jerk, you missed your chance.” But I don’t think so.
Then she reached up and flicked my nose the same as she’d done to Rusty, but not as hard. Not nearly as hard.