“You penis!” April shoved him upright by his throat.
He didn’t even feel it. “You shoulda seen where that thing crawled,” he performed a fist bump behind her head, “before you woke up.”
April reared her leg back, but her brother twisted away and her knee rammed plaster instead of crotch. “Ow!” That would hurt later, but the pimpled, sniveling testosterone surrounding her made everything blood-rushing numb.
“Alright, alright.” A voice deeper than rest, steady and kind. “You okay, April?”
April’s jaw worked, but no sound escaped her lips—lips pulled tight in a clown grin. How could Zach Michaels be in her room, her pink gingham curtains fluttering against his back?
“We tried to get video, but it was too dark,” someone cackled from behind her.
Mute and humiliated as she was, all April could think to do was kick the wall between her brother’s legs. Who cared if she broke a toe? At least she found her voice, “How could you do this to m—”
BANG! POP POP POP!
Her brain voided while her ears rang in the silent aftermath, toes sunk in canvas.
“Shit, the snap’n pops,” Nick breathed. “My backpack…”
Limbs went statuesque, breath arrested.
Yellow light flared under April’s door. Her father’s muffled exclamation sent shivers up her spine, “…the hell is goin’ on, dammit?”
Bodies flew, window slammed and blanket fell around her, a cool kiss of air settling over her bare shoulders. She rolled onto her side, tucked a hand under her cheek, and smoothed her face in mock sleep. Just as a warm body slid in behind her.
This flash fiction is a part of the A to Z Challenge. A new installment arrives every day in April, following the alphabet; check the calendar below to see which letters post on which days. Read more about this blogfest HERE.