The Weight of Blood (45)

They sat in awkward silence. Kenny, staring at his palm, shook his head with a chuckle. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

So distracted with worry over all the prom preparations, an answer slipped out without her knowing. “Or maybe you talk too much.”

Kenny cocked his head to the side and let out a barking laugh.

Mortified, she gasped, hands flying up to cover her face. “Oh! Oh no, oh no, oh no. I’m so sorry!” What was that? The voice was almost unrecognizable.

“Naw, it’s cool,” he said, waving it away, laughter quieting. “I just didn’t know you had it in you. Come on, you don’t have to hide.”

She peered at him through her fingers at his dazzling white smile. Papa always said women should be seen and not heard, but Kendrick didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he liked it. She righted herself with a deep breath.

“There you go,” he chuckled. “Much better.”

Maddy’s shoulders inched up to her ears. She wasn’t used to talking. She remained mute at school. Even at home, Papa spoke at her, not with her. But she should at least try. That’s what normal kids did.

“Uh, do you know where you’re going to college?”

Kenny frowned. “Are you . . . kidding?”

Maddy replayed the question in her head. Had she said something wrong?

He coughed out a laugh. “Did you miss the whole press conference in the gym, where I picked up the hat?”

“The . . . hat?”

Kenny rubbed his face, holding back a smirk. “Okay. Yeah, I’m going to the University of Alabama.”

She nibbled on her straw. “Is that a good school?”

“Is that a good—oh, now I know you’re shitting me!” He laughed. “Yes. It’s a very good school. The top school. Well, at least for football.”

She gripped her cup. “Um, what will you major in?”

“Does it matter?” he scoffed.

Her eyebrows pinched. “But you’re more than just football, right?”

Kenny looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, and a certain serenity melted into him. “English,” he said, with a small smile. “What about you? Where you going to school?”

Maddy stiffened. “Papa won’t . . . I mean, I don’t want to go to college.”

Kenny started to say something, then quickly changed his mind. Just the mention of her father made her hands tremble. She glimpsed over both shoulders, her neck growing hot.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she chirped, pasting on a smile.

He set down his cup and folded his hands. “I got so many questions. About what you did. Or why you did what you did. But . . . I also think I know the answers already. And it really wouldn’t help me get to know you better. Sounds weird, right?”

She shrugged. “A little.”

He cocked his head to the side, amused by something. “Give me your hand.”

Maddy gulped, trying to remain brave, and extended her arm on the table.

“Damn, you’re freezing,” he laughed. He turned her hand palm-side up, pressing two fingers to her wrist. “And your pulse is racing. You’re either lying, or you’re nervous.”

“Or scared.”

Kenny’s mouth dropped, releasing her. “Why are you scared of me?” he asked, seeming wounded.

“Um, not of you, this is just . . . all so wonderful but a bit out of my lane.” She touched her own wrist where his fingers once sat. “That was an interesting trick.”

“My mom’s a nurse. When I was little, she had me convinced she was a psychic palm reader. She knew everything I was thinking. Then . . . my dad told me the truth.” He sighed with a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes.

Maddy yearned for such memories with her mother. Her mother would have wanted her to go to the prom with a boy like Kenny, she told herself. She’d even help pick out a dress and do her hair. If she was still alive.

“Okay, how about a quick game of twenty questions?” he said, drumming the table. “I’ll start. What’s your favorite book?”

He asked her so quick she said the first thing that came to mind. “The Bible.”

He barked a laugh. “What?”

Maddy gulped then let out a small giggle. “There’s so many characters, heroes, and villains all in one book. God inspired a lot of stories.”

“Well, at least I got a laugh out of you. Don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.” He nodded. “Okay, now you ask me a question.”

“Anything?”

“Yup?”

She placed her cup down. “Uh, what are some of your hobbies when you’re not at school?”

“Hm,” he mused, staring at the table. “I was going to say training and running, but that all has to do with the game. I guess I don’t really have any. Other than maybe reading, which I don’t tell people.”

“Why are you embarrassed that you read?”

Kenny started. “I . . . I’m not. And it’s my turn anyway.”

She nodded.

“Favorite song that gets you hyped?”

She assumed he meant excited and could only think of one that Papa liked to listen to when he worked on his car. “Elvis Presley’s ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’”