Page 50 of Tell Me Softly

Prologue

Kami

There we were getting into trouble again. But this time, it was the older one’s fault. The one who was supposed to be more responsible.

He’d made us come out here in the wee hours of the night, and the first thing he’d done was take some metal thing, a lighter, and a first aid kit out of his backpack.

It didn’t bode well, but that was just how Thiago Di Bianco was.

And we always did what he said. He was older, and that was his right.

He got to be the boss: it was as simple as that.

I had problems sticking to the rules sometimes though, especially when they came from a guy who had no problem pulling my hair or making me cry.

But I had to admit I always felt safe with him, no matter how dangerous our adventures were.

He was almost a father figure, and he always gave you that reassurance that told you that you weren’t screwing things up.

The way he treated me had changed since we’d gone on our candy raid and I’d given him a kiss though. He didn’t bully me as much as before, but he’d turned bossier, and it seemed like he was always either pushing me away or trying to get my attention.

“What are you gonna do with that?” I asked, looking at the lighter.

Thiago’s ideas were getting riskier and riskier, and it took courage to keep up with him. I was open to adventure, but even I had my limits. Or maybe it was the age difference––I mean, I was only ten and a half.

“Nothing you can’t handle,” he replied, getting up and walking over to the lookout, where he’d left his backpack.

I looked up at Taylor, who was watching the scene nervously.

We were in our tree house; we sometimes called it the fort . Thiago had put tons of effort into it, but it still looked like it could fall apart at any second. This was the first time Taylor had been up there, and you could tell he was impressed.

He took my hand and said, “Don’t be afraid, Kami. I’m here with you.”

I smiled just as Thiago brought his own hand down on top of ours.

“You don’t even know what we’re doing yet,” he said, sitting down.

He was still clutching the lighter, and he showed us the piece of metal wire he’d been trying to hide earlier.

At one end, it was bent into a triangle.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked. And since neither of us answered, he responded, “It’s proof of our friendship. ”

“How is that piece of metal supposed to be proof of our friendship?” I asked, looking at it and the lighter and wondering what on earth he was up to. Thiago stared me down and said, “There’s nothing more lasting than a tattoo, is there?”

And he flicked the little wheel on the lighter, drawing a spark.

“And since we’re going to be friends forever, what’s the best way to show it…?”

Starting to worry, Taylor asked, “What are you getting at, Thiago?”

But his brother didn’t answer.

He held the triangle over the fire, long enough for it to glow orange, and when he was sure I was watching him, he pressed the burning metal into his wrist, pursing his lips and closing his eyes as it seared his flesh.

“Thiago, stop!” I shouted, I couldn’t help myself, but he didn’t listen. He managed to take it for a few more seconds, then he pulled the brand away. Taylor and I bent over to see the result. It was bright red and a little wrinkly.

“Are you crazy?” I asked. I couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

Tay wanted to know if it had hurt.

“Not so much…” Thiago responded, turning his wrist back-and-forth. The triangle was now a part of him, clear as day, and would be forever. “So who’s next?”

Taylor and I stared back-and-forth at each other, both terrified.

“There’s no way you’re burning that into my hand!” Taylor shouted.

“It’s your wrist, not your hand, dummy,” Thiago corrected him.

He didn’t seem to care what his brother thought, though––his eyes were on me.

“What do you say, princess? You want to get a tattoo like a grown-up or you want to be a little bitch like Tay here?” I couldn’t believe how little his brother’s feelings mattered to him, but I also wasn’t going to let anyone see me scared.

“Don’t call me princess,” I said, took a deep breath, sat up on my knees and rolled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “Get to it,” I told him, not even blinking.

I can still remember how proud he looked then.

How proud, and how bad I let him hurt me just because I wanted to look cool.