Faster We Burn

I wanted her to say it out loud.
    “Bringing a boy like that into this house? With the kids?” My mouth popped open. I couldn’t believe she was actually saying this. I’d thought they’d be upset about Stryker and maybe think he was just a slacker, or a loser. Not someone who would actually hurt children. I worried about how her mind had made that leap with Stryker when she’d let Zack into her house with open arms.
    “Are you hearing yourself right now? You think that just because he’s got a few piercings and tattoos and doesn’t look like an all-American college boy that he’s some kind of criminal? Because I have news for you: That guy? Zack? He’s a criminal. Just in case you forgot, he beat the shit out of me.” Every now and then, I still had a twinge of pain as a reminder.
    “Keep your voice down,” she hissed, glancing down the hall to make sure no one had heard my unseemly outburst. “That is an entirely different situation.” I didn’t see how.
    “Oh, and what about Adam, huh? You know nothing about him and you’re ready to let Kayla marry him just because he’s going to be a doctor. For all we know, he could be a serial killer.” I was pretty sure Kayla wouldn’t be engaged to a serial killer, but I had to make my point somehow. Mom’s face went red and I prepared for another verbal assault.
    We both shut up when Kayla came walking down the hallway, the happiness fading from her face.
    “Look, if you two are going to have a fight, you should probably be more quiet about it. I can’t hear exactly what you’re saying, but everyone can hear that you’re fighting. Seriously? You can’t even let it ride for one day?” Mom and I had a habit of choosing the holidays to have our knock-down-drag-outs.
    At least Mom had the sense to look guilty for being admonished by her own daughter. She dropped her angry face.
    “I’m sorry. I was just worried about your sister after everything she’s been through.”
    Kayla put her hand on Mom’s shoulder. “I know, Mom, but you really have to stop being so judgmental. I mean, I have a tattoo.”
    “Oh my God, Kayla. You didn’t.” Mom clutched her heart. You’d think Kayla announcing she was marrying a guy Mom had never met would cause that reaction, but no, it was the tattoo.
    Kayla rolled her eyes like she did when she used to come home after her curfew and Mom would ask her where she’d been. “Jesus, Mom. Everyone has tattoos now.”
    Mom started looking Kayla over, walking around her, searching for the tattoo. It was kind of funny. “Where is it? How big is it?”
    Kayla looked over her shoulder and then walked toward my parents’ bedroom. Mom and I followed, and Kayla closed the door behind us.
    “I just didn’t want everyone to see,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head. On her left shoulder was a quote and a picture of a dandelion blowing in the wind, the fluff floating toward her spine.
    Not all those who wander are lost .
    “It’s awesome, Kayla. When did you get it?” I said. It rivaled Stryker’s for the intricacy of the work. She must have gone to someone really talented.
    She smiled back at me. “Few months ago. It was a present from Adam.”
    Mom was still looking horrified.
    “It’s nice lettering, I guess. And it isn’t too big.” Wow, big compliment Mom.
    Kayla pulled her shirt down again and put one hand on my shoulder and one on Mom’s.
    “So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, can you two call a truce, just for today? After that you can go back to normal.”
    I would if she would.

 
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Stryker
     
    “What do you think they’re talking about?” Adam said to me as we waited in the living room for our respective girls to come back. He’d gravitated toward me, since we were both outsiders. He’d found some beer in the fridge and had brought one back for me. Normally I would have turned it down since I wanted to make a good impression on Katie’s parents, but I could use a little liquid courage right about now.
    “Probably not recipes,” I said. The rest of Katie’s family and neighbors gave Adam and me some space, including Katie’s Dad, who was busy dealing with the dishes.
    “So what’s your story?” he said, sitting down on the couch. I joined him, setting my beer bottle on a leaf-shaped coaster.
    I shrugged. “Katie took pity on a guy who didn’t have a family to spend Thanksgiving with.” More or less.
    He smiled and shook his head. “Yeah,