You're Always in the Last Place You Look Read Free

had already suffered so much.
    I pulled out my phone, but rather than dialing 911 like I had intended, I heard my Dad’s voice on the line.
    “Dad, I’m at the Cormley’s with their nephew—”
    “That’s wonderful, Gabriel. He could use some guidance—”
    “Dad! Listen, he was stung by a bee and he’s allergic. I gave him a shot of something, but I don’t think it’s helping. The Cormley’s aren’t home, and I don’t know what to do. Maybe you could call them?” My voice cracked more in ten seconds than it had my whole fourteenth year.
    “Calm down, son. How long ago did you give him the shot, and where on his body?”
    I took a breath, taking my dad’s calm voice as a sign Zane wasn’t about to die. He was always good in a crisis, seeming to be right more than wrong when it came to emergency situations.
    “I don’t know, two-three-five minutes max. He wanted it in his side, so that’s where he got it.” I wrinkled my nose. “About the same spot Mrs. Olsen gives herself insulin shots.” Mrs. Olsen was an old widower, whose husband died several years ago of a heart attack while tilling their north field. Now, I swear her only joy was grossing everyone out by giving herself her shots in public. Even Sunday services didn’t stop her. A shiver traveled down my spine at the image of her abundant stretch-marked flesh.
    “I know it can take a few minutes for an epinephrine shot to work. I’m not a doctor, but all the Rudeck’s kids are allergic to bees, and they get stung haying all the time. If I recall, they are usually back working within ten minutes. I can’t come right now, Marice’s son is missing again, but if you have any doubt call 911.” My father was still drawling like this wasn’t a big deal. For some reason, the uneasy feeling hung on. Damn Josie . Stupid kid was always wandering away and getting lost.
    “I think he gave himself the epin—whatever. It was something else he had me give him.”
    “Could have been a steroid. Just watch him, and call 911 if he doesn’t come around soon.”
    “Thanks, Dad. I don’t know, he sounds a tiny bit better. I’ll give him another few minute. See you at dinner.” I hung up, not waiting for his response, and kneeled down in front of Zane.
    He did sound a little better. His breathing wasn’t as rattley. He still shivered though. His hair was draped across his face, tickling the side of his nose. That would have driven me nuts, yet he didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care. Maybe when you have long hair you get used to those sorts of things. I’d never know the answer myself, since my hair was curly, and when it grew too long I looked like I had stuck my finger in a light socket, so I kept it short.
    Zane’s black hair was straight, shiny, and softly curved on the ends where it seemed to always lie along his high cheekbones. Looking at him, I realized he was as pretty as those Calvin Klein models in Mom’s magazines. Well, if not for the tattoo that trailed down the side of his face that is. The bleeding vine really was exquisite, and did appear alive. Nothing like the tats you could get around here. They were always smudgy along the edges, not crisp like Zane’s. Chad’s John Deere tractor was almost unrecognizable for what it was. It looked more like a semi cab.
    I leaned closer, noticing there were five drops of blood. I wondered if they represented his lost family. My eyes traveled to his hands. Kilz lay flat on the parquet flooring while his other was fisted beneath his chin. I felt a pang in my chest when I saw Love scrawled below the knuckles. The tattoos were done so Zane could read them at a glance; as if he had them as a reminder to himself. My mother came out in me then. Poor Zane, to have lost so much, so quickly. The thought of losing my whole family in one fateful accident would leave even my heart forever jaded.
    “What the fuck are you looking at,” Zane croaked, peering at me from under black lashes.
    “Thank God!