An hour later, Penelope and her brother were sitting on the steps in front of a supermarket, each eating an ice cream bar.
Timothy glanced at her. “So, when exactly did you go blind?”
Penelope rubbed her scalp, which was still sore from having her hair pulled. “A few years ago. My vision just recently cleared up.”
“Hmph. Your fighting skills have gotten rusty, too.”
“That’s because they don’t fight fair. You should have seen me with those thugs—” She caught herself and quickly shut her mouth.
Timothy snorted. “I was going to handle it myself.”
“You’re a student. You can’t get into fights. But your big sister is a working adult. I won’t get suspended if I get in a brawl.”
“But you could end up in jail.”
“It’s fine. I’d be out in a day.”
Timothy had come to see their father. When he heard he wasn’t there, he stood up to leave.
“I’m getting married in ten days. You have to be there,” Penelope said, grabbing his arm.
He shook her off. “If it’s with that Zebulon guy, I refuse.”
“Of course it’s not him. I found a new husband. He’s pretty decent.”
“Tch. That’s what you said about Zebulon.”
“My brain was waterlogged back then.”
“Shake your head now, and I bet you’d hear even more sloshing.”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Just be there. You have to.”
“I’m busy.”
Timothy got on his bike and rode off. Even she couldn’t do anything about her stubborn younger brother.
When she got home, she saw Zebulon helping a groaning Mr. Sullivan out of the house. He was clutching his lower back, his face twisted in pain. During the fight, she’d seen Timothy land a solid kick right to his spine. A young man in his twenties, full of testosterone and brute strength, hadn’t held back. Mr. Sullivan probably hadn’t felt it at first, but now the pain was setting in, forcing a trip to the hospital.


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