Mary and Halley (sequel to When Mary Met Halley)

sixteen

We ran outside to where their friend was attempting to rise from his place on the sidewalk. His little yellow car was parked at the curb facing the wrong way and the driver's door was open. The dome light had attracted a moth, which banged itself senselessly against the ceiling.

We surrounded him as I searched the area for whatever danger had befallen him, Charlotte taking one of his arms and Joey the other. "I'm okay," he lied, spitting a wad of bloody phlegm off to the side. "Got jumped at 7-Eleven by some good ol' boys." He groaned as he got his feet under him. "I drove here fine, just got a little dizzy when I got out." But he allowed his friends to each get under an arm, and when he staggered again Joey picked up his slim form fairly easily and received no protest.

I reached in to grab his back pack off the passenger seat, swiping the moth out before I shut the door, then followed them into the house. Luckily Char's entrance hadn't woken the kids, because we didn't need that added drama. Halley held open the door and I rushed to clear the couch off so my brother could lay the hurt boy there. Nate's arms were wrapped around his midsection, his face a mask of pain, and I thought we were probably in for another ER trip.

But Charlotte was voicing this and he shook his head before she even completed the suggestion. "I'm okay," he said again. "They couldn't do much damage before the 7-Eleven guy came out and scared them back into their giant truck with the nine by twelve confederate flag," he said wryly. "I missed what they were saying, what with the kicking and all, something about making America great again. Pretty sure I heard a heil Hitler, but again, the kicking was distracting." 

"Motherfuckers," Charlotte said, murder in her eyes as she broke away to go into the kitchen.

Joey turned around and kicked the arm chair, hard. His face was thunderous too. "I should have been there," he said in frustration as Char returned.

"Don't be dumb," she said mildly, kneeling to dab softly at the blood coming from Nate's split eyebrow with a damp paper towel. "Also, mind your energy."

Joey's jaw clenched but his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry." He joined her kneeling on the floor. "Should we call your mom?"

Nate's eyes widened at that. "No, you absolutely should not, she has enough to worry about. And her plane leaves in like three hours." He coughed, cringing a little at the pain it caused. "Don't let my blood stain your favorite shirt, girl," he told Charlotte.

She glanced down at it and continued to doctor him with a dismissive "Whatever."

I left to get the first aid kit from the bathroom, fighting my own anger. I couldn't stop flashing on a very real scene in my head of generic guys with pale faces kicking the sweet boy. While my med adjustments were already helping a little, it was still difficult to rid myself of the sickening vision so vividly playing in my mind. A dull fury crept up my spine.

When I got back, Halley was talking. "We should call the police," she pointed out, which I had also been thinking. Much as I hated to. "Not that they'll do anything, but still."

He didn't want us to. "They're probably related to the guys who did this or something," he said dismissively, closing his eyes and wincing a little while Char deftly applied a butterfly bandage to his eyebrow. "Proud fathers and all. Either way, I've yet to meet a cop who was on my side. I'd probably get cited for bleeding on the sidewalk."

Char put another bandage on him, so gently. "Last week we got pulled over, because I had  that taillight out, right? And the cop asked what nice kids like us were doing with 'a guy like this'," she said bitterly. My heart jumped with indignant fury. "How many times have you been pulled over, Nathan? For DWB?"