Page 12 of Something Like Winter

“Right.” Finally dressed for the occasion, Ben stood. “How do we do this?”

Tim looked up the hill he had fallen down. “You pull me up there, I guess.”

“Pull you how?”

Ugh! Tim would die down here before he got this guy to do anything. “Just grab me under the arms and pull. I’ll help as much as I can.”

Ben scuttled behind him, and Tim lifted his arms. After another uncertain pause, Ben’s arms hooked beneath his and pulled. Tim moved half an inch. Maybe. Now he was sure Krista could win that brawl. Ben pulled again, and this time Tim kicked with his good foot. Now they were getting somewhere! After some grunting and no doubt a ton of grass stains on his backside, they made it to the top.

They both panted from the effort before Tim asked for help standing up. Ben handled this much better. Soon Tim had an arm draped over Ben’s shoulder for support. His ankle was still too sensitive for any pressure. Tim could kind of hop along with assistance, but it was slow going.

“Okay.” Tim sighed. “I guess we make it to the nearest house and have them drive me home.”

“Your house is really close if we cut through the trees there.”

Tim tensed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? If Ben had only known his name, Tim wouldn’t have been surprised. That was one of the perks of being popular. But how could Ben know where he lived?

“Let’s go, then,” Tim said. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could forget this had happened.

Ben held tightly to him as they made their way through the trees, and for a moment Tim imagined himself being led to some pit dug in the woods where no one would see him again. Instead they reached a privacy fence. Left and right, that’s all there was—one long row of fences.

“Fuck,” Tim swore. “How much further would it be if this fence wasn’t here?”

Ben looked away, ashamed at having been called out. “Half a block.”

Tim hopped toward the fence and grabbed its top. If they couldn’t get around it, they would go through it. “Support me,” he said. Tim yanked on the plank, muscles flexing with effort. Ben grabbed him just as the board came loose. Cheaply built, the fence only had two nails holding it in place. The plank fell to one side, so he worked another free, and then a third. Now they had plenty of room to squeeze through. If the owners saw them and came running, at least they could give Tim a ride the rest of the way home.

As it turned out, the place was empty, not having been lived in yet. They were close to his neighborhood, all right. In fact, when they made it to the street, Tim saw they were just a few houses away.

“Which one is yours?” Ben asked.

“You tell me,” Tim snapped. A little late to play coy, stalker boy. He glared at Ben, who was staring at the ground, cheeks red. The rest of his skin had a nice tan, the edges of his blond hair bleached platinum from the sun. Tim’s hair never changed color like that. A sheen of sweat covered Ben’s upper lip, either from the heat or the exertion of supporting him. Was it the pain that rendered everything in such stark detail? Maybe they should head to the studio instead. Tim watched in fascination as Ben’s mouth formed a sentence.

“Is anyone home?”

“No.”

“Then shouldn’t we drive straight to the hospital?”

Which would involve his parents being called, and them being angry with him, like last time. Tim turned his attention back to the goal. “I just need to take the weight off my leg.”

The front door was unlocked, the cold air inside already feeling good on his ankle. Thank god for air conditioning! Tim had left the curtains closed last night to keep the house cool. By this time of year, Kansas was usually dropping hints about fall, but summer seemed to reign eternal in Texas.

He flipped a light switch and headed for the couch in his mother’s living room. That’s how he thought of it, since it was just as flowery and dainty as his father’s den was masculine. After lowering himself to the couch, wincing with every inch, he told Ben to fetch a washcloth and first aid kit from the bathroom. Once he got his leg cleaned up, it should be a lot easier to see the damage.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Ben held out a washcloth and a little first aid kit. “Or call a doctor at least?”

“No need. Same thing happened to me freshman year.” And that was the other reason Tim wasn’t interested in football. “I still have a brace upstairs. A couple of days with that on, and I’ll be fine.”

Ben was staring at him with saucer-sized eyes overflowing with guilt. “It’s just—”

Tim cut him off. “Thanks for helping me get home.” Ben took the hint. Well, first he apologized about ten more times, but then he finally headed for the door. Tim was about to sigh in relief when Ben turned around.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right? When do your parents get back?”

“In about two weeks. They’re in Switzerland.” Tim worked on wrapping a cloth bandage around his shin. He made sure not to look up again until he heard the front door close. Then he leaned back on the couch and sighed.

What a weirdo.