That Which Binds Us by Amanda Richardson

Author:Amanda Richardson [Richardson, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2016-06-18T22:00:00+00:00

Rubbing my hands together, I blow warm air into them as I use the brass knocker to knock on Benny’s door. Silence greets me, and a knot of nervousness wraps around my stomach. I wait, holding my breath, listening for any movement behind the door.

“Ben!” I knock again, fearful that Mr. Adler might open the door and do to me what he does to Benny on a daily basis. I don’t know that many curse words yet, but whenever I learn a new one, I always think of Mr. Adler.

Footsteps.

One, two, three…

Benny swings the door open, and I gasp.

“Let’s go,” he growls, taking my hand and pulling me along after him. I look back at the wide-open door, and then back at him. He has a large cut right underneath his eye. Anger begins to boil inside of me, and I pull my hand away violently.

“What happened to you?” I already know the answer, but he never voices it directly to me. A part of me wonders why he’s ashamed of telling me. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me. “Benny?”

He ignores me, and instead raises his eyebrows and scowls. “I’m fine.”

I stop walking. We’re almost thirteen, and if we’re going to continue to be friends, I need him to be honest with me. “I’m not moving until you tell me what happened.” I cross my arms and sigh loudly.

I think I see the twitch of a smile forming on his lips. “Not now, Nina. I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice is low—it’s gotten lower in the recent months—and he sounds… older. He continues to walk forward.

I feel tears sting my eyes. “Why won’t you tell me? Is it because you don’t trust me?”

Benny falters, quickly turning around with an angry scowl on his face. I’ve only ever seen him angry on a couple of occasions—and we’ve only fought once or twice. But those were stupid things, like who got to pick which movie, or how we were going to cross the river last summer. We never fought about real things. Not until now.

He stalks over to me, and I’m reminded of the inches he’s gained on me recently. “You really think I don’t trust you?” he asks, his voice surprisingly quiet. I expected him to yell.

I shrug. “You tell my dad, so why can’t you tell me?”

He’s breathing heavily, and he bites the inside of his cheek while he ponders my question. “I tell your dad because he asks—because he helps me. And because you already know, so why should I bother bringing it up again?” His voice breaks on that last sentence, and my stomach drops.

“Because I’m your friend,” I whisper, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Because… I want to hear it from you.”

“Best friend,” he replies, giving me a small smile. “Best friend, always.”

I smile back. Something clicks as he watches me, his eyes roving across my face. “You don’t have to tell me,” I concede, beginning the walk forward.

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