Tigers, Not Daughters - Samantha Mabry Page 0,44

all goo-goo-eyed at John the way Norma was gazing at Rafe across the street.

Jessica told herself: John is a good person because he likes dogs. Good people like dogs.

But then Jessica realized she was still cringing. The expression was stuck on her face. Just as Teddy came up to reclaim his dog, Jessica heard Peter’s stone-skip laugh again, and turned to the sound. She knew she didn’t smile, but it was possible that her expression had softened.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” Jessica said before heading over to the table where Mrs. Garcia and Peter were still setting up cups of iced tea. John had seen it: the way Jessica had reacted to Peter’s laugh. She knew because even though she hadn’t asked John to follow her, she could sense him close behind, and she knew what he’d do before he did it. He reached out and took hold of Jessica’s wrist, stopping her mid-step. He squeezed so that his fingers dug into the place right at Jessica’s pulse point, and her whole arm tensed. She winced as a ribbon of pain shot up to her elbow.

“Time to go,” John said, without raising his voice.

Jessica let out a huff but stayed rooted. Behind her, Kitty Bolander and her friends were still shrieking their joy. Again, Jessica looked over to her dad and Norma.

Norma was stroking a hand up and down Rafe’s arm, lightly. She then threaded her fingers with the ones on his free hand and leaned in to rest her cheek against his shoulder. Norma gave Rafe a kiss on his temple, so tenderly it nearly made Jessica gasp. She was transfixed. She couldn’t stop watching this woman, her neighbor yet a stranger, offer comfort to her father.

Jessica was jealous. She wished she had someone who would hold her hand in a gentle way and lean against her shoulder. She even wished she was a dog so that John would take her face in his hands and gaze at her like she was the sweetest thing in the world. Instead, John was still gripping her wrist with so much force her fingers were starting to go numb.

“Did you not hear me?” John asked. He tugged her wrist, down, and Jessica felt her shoulder jerk out of joint. “I said, it’s time to go.”

Jessica watched a squirrel drop an acorn into a tiny hole at the base of a tree in a neighbor’s front yard. She wished she was at work, under the freezing-cold air-conditioning, stocking candy and humming along to ballads. She wished she was alone in her car, singing at the top of her lungs. Jessica said nothing, and pretended her silence was a revolutionary act. She then realized how sad that was.

“I fucking heard you,” Jessica muttered.

She ripped her hand from John’s grip and continued toward the tables. But John reached out again, grabbing her by the elbow this time. He was trying to get her to stop, of course, but also to turn and face him.

Jessica didn’t do that. She didn’t look over her shoulder at John because she had the buzzy feeling of being watched. She turned her head slightly and locked eyes with Peter. He was still behind the folding table. Only now, he wasn’t filling cups. He was holding one, though, and Jessica watched the plastic buckle under the strain of his grip. His gaze moved from Jessica’s eyes to her elbow—and to John’s hand there. A muscle twitched at the narrow edge of his eyebrow.

John squeezed tighter, and Jessica sagged a little from the sudden hit of pain. She knew that John had seen Peter looking at Jessica. He knew what Peter saw, and that’s why he’d squeezed harder. In the past—like, a couple of days ago—Jessica would’ve been scared. She would’ve anticipated anger and then pain, and it would’ve made her weak with fear. Not today, though. Not on this bright and beautiful day. Peter’s eyebrow twitched again, and Jessica sucked in a breath.

She didn’t know exactly what would happen next, but she had an idea. She lifted her free hand to cover a smile.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” John sneered at Peter.

Peter leapt over the table, knocking over several