Playing Hurt

Clint

breakaway





I slam on the brake in front of her cabin, feeling scraped-up inside.

As we sit in the truck, the seconds pulsing like a toothache, I wonder why Chelsea won’t just get out of the cab. Why she won’t give me some peace.

Why would she expect me to help her out of the truck after what happened last night? I don’t want to kiss her again. I don’t want to—anything—with her. Didn’t I just make that perfectly clear?

“What do you want, Brand?” Chelsea moans.

My head shoots up and I realize that her brother’s standing just beyond the passenger side door, some enormous black roll under one arm. Kenzie’s standing beside him, cradling a stack of paper.

They’re both looking into the cab with identical horrified expressions. Like they’re afraid to find out what they’ve just interrupted.

“You can drive Brandon out to Pike’s, right, Clint?” Kenzie says. “I told him you wouldn’t mind.”

“What do you need to go to Pike’s for?” Chelsea asks.

Brandon shifts his weight, points to the roll in his arm. “Kenzie helped me print up a giant banner. For the Dwellers. And flyers, too,” he says, nodding at the sheets in her hands. “Up in the office at the lodge. And Earl was there—he said Clint didn’t have anything booked this afternoon. And you’re—done—canoeing, right?”

The word canoeing hangs in the air. I can feel my soaked shorts sticking to my legs. Chelsea still smells like the river. My sneakers have lakes in them. Canoeing—I just hope that to Brandon and Kenzie, that’s exactly what it looks like we’ve been doing.

“I thought—we could hang the banner in the front window, and put some more flyers up in town,” Brandon says.

“Brand, did the thought ever occur to you that his parents might not want you to mess up their place with your junk?” Chelsea asks.

“Only way to find out is to ask,” Brandon says. “But they have to see the banner before they can refuse it.” A squeaky groan erupts as he opens the passenger side door. He pushes Chelsea across the bench seat, closer to my side. Stupid Brandon …

“I—don’t have anything else going on right now—I could help hang some of these,” Kenzie offers, holding up her flyers.

“We’ll get them. It’s fine,” Chelsea says.

They’re not going to fight over me, are they? I shake my head. The whole thing’s just so stupid. How many times does a guy have to tell these girls no?

“Thanks, Kenz,” I say. “We got it, right, Brand?”

Kenzie’s face falls a little. But what am I supposed to do? There’s no room for her in the cab—three’s pushing it as it is. And if I kick Chelsea out, it would look bad—wouldn’t it? It’s not that I want Chelsea to come with us. Right?

Kenzie hands Brandon the stack of flyers. “Come on, already,” Brandon says, his voice bouncing against the dash. “Let’s go.”