Laced Steel - M.J. Fields Page 0,24
the table for, as Dad calls it, Steel Sunday, feeling like I should be doing my part.
When Momma Joe, our grandma, and her husband Thomas come in carrying two huge pans of lasagna and two baskets full of garlic knots, I feel even worse.
“Where’s Truth and Justice?” Momma Joe asks as she kisses Patrick on the cheek after he takes the baskets from her.
“Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Tara asked to trade up,” Patrick jokes.
“Is that so?” She laughs as she makes her way to Brisa and kisses her, as well.
“JT is on his way here. He spent the night with—”
“Carter and Bella, honing his craft,” Momma Joe finishes for her. “So many of you now. It’s hard to keep track, but not impossible. And Truth?”
“She fell and jacked up her ankle,” Brisa answers, looking down as she wraps silverware.
“Over here, Momma Joe,” I call to her and wave.
She quickly kisses Dad and Mom before walking over. She removes the cold compress, lifts my ankle, moves the pillow, sits down, and rests my leg on her lap.
I lean in and give her two quick kisses then shrug. “Honestly, it’s no big deal.”
She nods once as she looks over my bruises then looks back at me.
You know the game never have I ever? Yeah, well, never have I ever lied to Momma Joe, and I can’t start now, so I say nothing at all.
After a few seconds, she pats my knee. “You’ll need to get it looked at if the swelling doesn’t go down by school tomorrow. Don’t want a small fracture to heal wrong. It could mess up your dancing, Truth. And there’s nothing I love to watch more than you dancing.”
I’ve yet to break the news to her that I don’t think dance will be in my future. It’s hard enough to admit to myself, let alone out loud to another.
I nod. “No gym class tomorrow, so I’ll be sure to hit the clinic if it still looks like this after school.”
She leans in and asks quietly, “But otherwise, you’re okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, of course.”
Within fifteen minutes, the table is set, the house is noisy, and everyone is seated around two tables, chatting as we wait for Justice, Bella, Luna, Tags, and his friend.
Kiki sits next to me, looking exhausted but happier than I have ever seen her. Both she and her sister Bella are pregnant and seem to carry their babies up front. Bella is all belly, whereas Kiki seems to have twins up top and a soccer ball under her shirt.
“Is it the baby hormones or all the newlywed sex?” I ask.
She leans in, ignoring me completely, and asks, “Have fun last night?” She then casts her eyes to my ankle then looks back up at me, frowning.
“It was interesting.”
“Fun interesting, or a mesh up of drunken TikToks that ended in a messed-up ankle interesting?” she whispers.
We both look to the head of the table where we see Dad, sitting back, arms crossed over his chest, as he averts his eyes as if he hasn’t been suspiciously staring at me for the past hour.
“Chat on our way to school tomorrow then?” she suggests.
I nod.
Through the ever-thickening cloud in my head and heart of lies and deceit, I hear the door open then Carter’s, aka Tags, voice comes through the entry. “He fell, little moon. He’s okay.”
“But he needs a bunch of Band-Aids,” Luna says in her little voice with a tinge of demand.
“I’m good, little bit.” The guest that Dad spoke of chuckles.
“But you have whole bunches of boo-boos.”
“Hand to God”—he laughs—“it’s all good. But you know what will make me feel better?”
Luna asks, “What?”
“Eating whatever smells so good.”
“It’s basagna,” Luna tells him. “Come on.”
He chuckles. “Lead the way.”
Bella is the first to appear, with Luna behind her, still looking back.
I get kicked under the table and look at Brisa, whose eyes are wide and nervous.
“Ankle,” I hiss.
She doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking straight ahead as she whispers under her breath, “Shit, shit, shit.”
“What the hell is wrong—”
“He’s here,” she whispers.
I snap my head back, expecting to see one of the horsemen and should be relieved when I don’t, but it’s Manbun.
I look back at her and whisper, “We are so fucked.”
Kiki nudges me and whispers, “What’s going on?”
“I’m sure you’ll know soon enough, and, Kiki, I’m moving in with you and Brand when shit hits the fan.”
“Jesus, man,” Dad says, standing up. “Luna’s right; you do need a Band-Aid … or twenty.”
“Big fall.” Manbun winks and