“Just seeing how deep the cut is.”

Kanzi’s mother started trying to cut the food on her own plate. She gave up, throwing knife and fork down with enough force that they traveled a third of the way down the table. “If you’re going to do that, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“Press your hand down there,” he said, moving her hand into place. Kanzi did, and felt the sting of pain at her cheekbone.

His hand was firm, grabbing Kanzi by the arm, taking her into the living room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom.

“I don’t know, Julien,” her mother said, from the hallway. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

“I don’t know about you,” he said, voice pitched to be heard, “but her antics and this mess has caused me to thoroughly lose my appetite.”

“Yes,” Kanzi’s mother said.

“Let’s step away. I’ll take you to Screwball, we’ll have burgers and shake, like way back when.”

Kanzi’s eyes widened. Screwball was a place with the best burgers. They had ice cream floats that were Kanzi’s favorite thing.

“And you’ll stay,” he said, his voice quiet, just for Kanzi, and stern.

She felt a kind of outrage well in her chest at that. Stay?

“You’ll only agitate her if you’re there, and you really, really could have done better tonight.”

The outrage faded to about half of what it had been, mixed with confused, choked guilt.

“Keep that there,” he said, pressing a wad of white bandage down to the part that hurt. “Hold it until the bleeding stops. Then I want you to clean up and put yourself to bed.”

She didn’t dare reply. Her heart was pounding, the bright crimson of blood she kept seeing in places startled her in a way that stabbed right to the middle of her heart, and tonight felt like one of those nights where there was nothing she could do that was right.

She only nodded.

Julien huffed out a sigh, going back to the hallway.

Kanzi remained where she was, seated on the lid of the toilet, a bandage pressed to her cheekbone. Still, inoffensive, quiet, up until the door slammed.

If they came back to mess, they might get mad.

One hand pressed to the bandage, she started to clean up. The smell of dinner still made her want to hurl, as she cleaned up the plate and began to clear the table, so she grabbed one of the towels from by the oven, holding it so it pressed against the bandage and covered her nose and mouth, keeping the smell from being so strong.