Belle didn't last long on that porch. Belle never lasted long once she stopped pretending she wasn't keeping score, and when she finally ran out of insults I set her down on the boards, took two steps down, and offered Naomi my hand. Her bell chimed once as she took it.
I pulled Naomi up the steps and she came willingly, her bell chiming with each stair, her hand warm and trembling in mine. Not from fear. From the same thing that had turned her panties dark while she watched Belle lose the ability to form sentences.
Belle lay sprawled across the porch boards with milk pooling in the hollow of her collarbone, breathing like she'd just finished a marathon. She lifted one hand and waved it loosely in our direction.
"Don't mind me. I'll just be here. Dying. On wood."
