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Show m my father's house/ 363 "VJhat happened to your lip?" Brian stood and leaned over me. "It's swollen and going black and blue." I bowed my head/ and squeezed my eyes tightly to keep back the tears. "It's nothing," I whispered. "C'mon. I've been punched enough times to know what it looks like. Are you going to tell me you ran into a door?" I knotted my fingers together. "Someone hit me. I didn't even know it was coming. He wanted me to go for a ride - he said he wanted to talk for a few minutes. He was angry because I wouldn't go out with him anymore, I guess." Brian put a hand on his hip. "You tell me who did it. It won't happen again." I shook my head. "It won't solve anything. I probably asked for it." Silence grew between us. I cleared my throat. "I... I didn't come for protection. I came looking for...a friend. Have I lost you?" He shook his head. "Nobody ~m loses me. Sometimes I get thrown away - but lost, never." I grimaced. "I've been 30 stupid." He shrugged. "2ven girls have to try their wings." I felt disoriented, not so much from the beating of the night before as from this conversation, energy flowing like electric water between Brian and me. The things we were saying seemed to flow out of some other time, as though they had been memorized long ago, speaking parts written for us by someone else. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked. "I have a date...but I'll break it. If you want me to." "I want you to. I've been waiting a long time." I flushed. "You're kidding, of course." |