You are nice!

I gave him the best smile I could muster. “Thanks.”

And I think you smell nice too.

I grinned at him. “I’m nice enough that I might even let you try my ice cream. Come on.”

I had a banana split. Oren did taste it, but only the strawberry and chocolate parts because he doesn’t like pineapple. He had a brownie thing with vanilla ice cream and peanuts on top. I got to try it—it was good—but my banana split was better.

It was also way too big. By the time I realized I wasn’t going to be able to finish it, I felt pretty full and gross. I threw the rest of the melted mess in the trash.

I grabbed the bag of clay pieces, and we left the shop and headed home. When we turned the corner to my street, I saw the hearse right away. That meant Mom and Dad were back from the funeral.

“I guess we can’t go over today,” I said, trying not to sound too happy about it. “Want to run through the sprinkler? I can tape up your arm again like yesterday so it doesn’t get wet.”

He looked down at his outfit.

“You can borrow a pair of Nate’s board shorts,” I said.

When we got into the house, I told him to wait while I went upstairs to my brother’s room.

Thankfully, Nate was out of bed and was either in the basement playing video games or had left to meet his friends to…I didn’t know what. Probably to play video games. I tugged open his dresser drawers until I found one with his shorts and shoved my hand in toward the back. The first pair I pulled out had Minions on it. I didn’t remember him ever wearing them, so I doubted he’d care if Oren borrowed them.

“These okay?” I asked when I got back down to the kitchen.

Oren was sitting at the table. He shrugged and reached for them.

“You can use the bathroom. I’ll change in my room and meet you back down here. Then I’ll tape you up.”

After I changed into my suit, I grabbed two beach towels out of the hall closet and returned downstairs. I grabbed supplies for his arm from the junk drawer before heading toward the bathroom and knocking on the door.

“Ready?”

When he opened the door, I put the scissors and tape down on the counter beside his pile of clothes and then turned toward him. “Those fit pretty good,” I said, nodding toward the shorts he was now wearing. I tried not to stare at the bruises on his torso. I didn’t succeed. They were yellow and green and mostly faded, but they covered almost his entire chest. I didn’t know why it had never occurred to me that he might have more injuries than the ones I’d already seen.

“Do those hurt?” I asked before I could stop myself.