Dick!
After rinsing my mouth, I went up to my room and grabbed my brass knuckles. Staring at them in my grasp, suddenly the attic felt stifling, so I went outside while thinking it was only a matter of time before I was going to have to face some Tallulah fans and defend myself.
“What’s with the brass knuckles, kid?” asked Dale from over my shoulder.
I was sitting in Harmony’s gazebo, staring at the Life Date metal in my hand. “Strengthening a weakness.”
There was not an ounce of surprise in his voice. Dale had been there, too. “And if they ain’t in your pocket?”
Squinting at the sunrays trying to reach me, I peered up at him. “What are you saying?”
Casually, he warned, “Taking those to school is an automatic expulsion.”
Fuck. Didn’t think of that. Wait—“How’d you know?—”
He laughed. “Fighting over girls is as old as time, Brass.” He sat on the bench across from me, like I had with Blue. “It’s very appropriate.”
I thought of my damaged hand, hence a lip curling.
He waved me off. “Nope. No self-pity allowed. That can blind you.”
Blinking through his hidden meanings, I said, “Huh?”
Dale pointed to what was in my hand. “If I had to guess, whoever gave you those knew you well.”
That stuck my heart in a blender. I swallowed. “You guessed right.”
The wise bastard smirked. “Brass. A metal with many purposes and abilities.” He stared into my soul. “It gives instruments… a voice.”
Even though I wasn’t totally comprehending all of his meanings, chills took over my body. I couldn’t move. I just listened.
“It can be tricky, appearing beautiful yet holding so much strength.”
My throat tightened. Noma, were you telling me something?
“It can be a conductor, allowing electricity to flow…” His eyes squinted as if making sure I was truly hearing him.
I was hearing nothing but him.
His voice softened. “Most of all? It’s forgiving, easier to bend in certain circumstances—conditions.” His voice lowered as if to make sure this last part socked me in the chest. “It is corrosion resistant. It won’t rust… even when drowning.”
I stopped breathing. My ears rang. Dale knew. Dale knew of my accident.
He took in a breath so deep his expanding lungs made him sit up straight. “So, yeah. That gift giver knew you very well.”
I thought of Noma’s last note to me. We put on our brass knuckles and swing because we sinners have the grit it takes.
Jaw locked to fight forming tears, I kept staring at the man I would never forget.
As if the silence between us was screaming my understanding, Dale dipped his chin. Then he said, “Ready to get back to your immediate problem?”
Taking a deep breath myself, I stretched my right hand and its scars. “Yeah, what can I do?”
Dale was up for the challenge. “Let’s make your left hook a dangerous one for when that weapon isn’t in your pocket.” He winked.
And he did. Growing up in a foster home without caring parents like he and Harmony, he had to learn how to make a punch count. Most of us wanted to learn. Even Sarah. Blue was a little more timid, but Dale convinced her it was only for play. At least that is what he told her. Although his inquisitive eyes spoke of wanting this little girl to have a fighting chance if ever faced with what brought her to him in the first place.
“I don’t like fighting,” Harmony announced from her gazebo while drinking hot tea.
