Page 37

36

POLLY

I scream.

Of course I do. The woman stabbed me with a fork . I’m sure glad I never gave her a knife!

I yank my hand off the tray table, the fork still jutting out of the skin between my thumb and forefinger. Thankfully, a second later, it falls out, because I would definitely have not enjoyed pulling that out of my skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” I cry.

“You need to call an ambulance,” Tegan says through her teeth. “You need to call right now .”

I’ve had enough of this tomfoolery. I race up the steps of the basement, clutching my right hand, which is oozing quite a bit of blood by now. Can you get tetanus from a fork? I’ll have to look that up, although I do think I’m up-to-date with my tetanus booster.

“Polly!” Tegan screams after me. “Call an ambulance!”

I slam the door to the basement behind me, breathing hard. I certainly didn’t need to run, since there was no way she could follow me. But it seemed like there was some chance she might summon superhuman strength and chase after me with her broken ankle. After all, I never expected that she would stab me with a fork, for goodness’ sake. That girl has more spunk than I thought she did.

Hank is coming down from the bedroom. He passes me on his way to the kitchen but then stops and does a double take. “Polly?”

That’s when I notice there’s blood all over my shirt.

“Polly,” he gasps. “What did you do to her?”

I glare at him. “I didn’t do anything. This is my blood. She stabbed me with a fork.”

I show him my wounded hand as evidence. He winces. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s fine. Could you just… Could you bring me the first aid kit? I need to get it disinfected.”

Hank obediently marches over to the hall closet where we keep the first aid kit. I follow him into the living room, and he opens up the kit for me on the coffee table. I sink onto the sofa and sift through the kit with my left hand, searching for the Betadine swabs while he watches me.

“Why did she stab you?” he asks.

“She’s a little confused.”

“Maybe it’s time for her to go.”

“Hank…”

“I just don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish here.” He peers at me from the other side of the sofa. “The roads are clear now. She needs to go to the hospital.”

“You never trust me,” I grumble. “I’m doing this for her own good.”

Hank is quiet for a moment, watching me fumble with the bandage. Finally, he scooches over and helps me get it secured on my hand.

“Next time,” he says, “I’ll go down there.”

I shake my head emphatically. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. She doesn’t like you.”

“Well, she can’t do anything worse to me than what she did to you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Anyway, if she’s mad at you, you should give her a chance to calm down.”

I’m not thrilled about this idea, but then I remember about the Benadryl in the mashed potatoes. If she eats that, she’ll be groggy by the time Hank comes down to collect her dirty dishes. It’s not like they’re going to have a big conversation, which is something I would rather avoid.

And right now, I’m really not excited to go down there again.

“Fine,” I say.

I hope this isn’t a mistake.