Dutifully, I held out my finger, biting my lower lip in anticipation of the pain. Grabbing my finger, she firmly clamped it between her index and thumb before deftly stabbing it with the warm needle. It hurt just like the needle they poke into your finger at the doctor's office, except this was more prolonged because the needle was dull and she had to work it in under the skin. After a moment she sat back and released my hand. Pinching the skin between my fingertips, I looked down at where she had pricked me and squeezed my finger until a bead of blood welled at the surface.
“Now you’re turn,” I said, waiting for her to stab herself. But she shook her head and handed the needle to me with an intense look flashing across her face.
“No, you have to do it. It seems right,” her voice was muted, but she spoke with authority as if she performed blood sister rites every day. I frowned; I really didn’t want to stab her finger. Doing it to myself was one thing, but the thought of doing it to another person made me shudder inwardly.
“Really? I don’t think I can stab your finger,” I voiced my thoughts aloud, although making sure to keep my voice at a hushed level to show the proper veneration for the moment.
She rolled her eyes. “You can do it; I just did it to you,” she pointed out. “Think of it as payback for always taking you down,” her full lips curved up mischievously, and I knew she was referencing drunken wrestling matches. She always got me to beg for mercy.
Sighing, I nodded.“Fine,” and took the needle from her outstretched hand. I felt my face cringe as I took her finger, and without waiting, stuck it into her skin. She hissed between her teeth but made no other sound. Unlike mine, she didn’t need to squeeze to get the blood out, instead a pinprick point bubbled on the top of her index finger and rolled down.
Raising my eyes, I met her gaze as she smiled. “Okay, let’s do it.” I nodded, and without a word we pressed our bleeding index fingers together and allowed our blood to mingle, becoming blood sisters forever.
The idea had come to us earlier in the night while we sat outside passing a joint back and forth, staring up at the stars while alternately casting paranoid glances toward the house in the event one of my parents awoke. We had snuck around the shed so were one of them to come looking for us we’d have enough warning to ditch the joint.
It was one of those summer nights when the night air was just the perfect mix of warm and cool, so that it felt like a balm on bare skin after the heat of the day. It was one of those nights that made crazy young girls feel free and reckless as if we were untouchable and only the present moment counted.
We were deep in conversation that varied between topics like the meaning of life and death, cute boys and what we were going to eat once we got inside. Kona, my family’s Labrador mutt, paced nervously around us as if he were more paranoid about getting busted than us. If we had left him inside he would have barked and woke the whole house, so we had to bring him with us. I was exhaling a particularly large plume of smoke when she blurted it out. “Okay, I lied. I totally slept with him.”
My jaw opened wide, and I threw up my hands in dramatic expression. “Avery!” I said half chastising, although I wasn’t particularly surprised. “I just knew you weren’t telling me the truth. Please tell me you at least used something.” Her glassy eyes slid guiltily away as she took the joint from my outstretched hand. “Avery,” I sighed in disapproval. I was sometimes jealous over how easy she had it with boys with her quick wit and teasing personality. But she was also prone to her impulses. This wasn’t the first time she’d shamefully admitted to having sex with her monthly crushes.
“Well at least you’re on birth control,” I said, tucking my legs beneath me and taking the last drag before snuffing out the rest of it in the grass. At least now if we got busted only our eyes would give us away, and we could hide that in the dark.
“I know, but I’m nervous about diseases, like he’s been with a lot of girls.”
“He usually uses condoms though doesn’t he?” That’s what Avery had always said in the past. Avery and Liam had been an item off and on again for months. She’d just promised not to sleep with him again given his penchant for dumping her and then wooing her again in a never-ending cycle.
“Yeah,” she nodded, looking lost in thought, the weed making us more somber than usual.
“Then you shouldn’t worry.” Although I tried to be reassuring I could tell it wasn’t helping.
“It was stupid, I should have stopped it but I can’t stop myself when I’m around him. What if he has AIDS?” She suddenly asked panicked.
“He doesn’t,” I was mostly convinced, mainly because I couldn’t imagine anything horrible like that happening to people we knew.
“But what if he does? What if I get it? Would you go on a trip with me around the world? Would you stay with me?” She gazed at me intensely, the depth of our friendship weighing on me so that I felt an almost spiritual connectedness with her.
I nodded. “I’d even share your blood so that if you got it I got it too. That way, we would always be together.”
At my offer, her eyes lit up and she nodded. “We could be blood sisters!”
That’s how we’d ended up here; our fingers pressed together in a blood promise to suffer and die along with the other one. Friendship was forever after all.
We pulled our fingers apart, and I stuck mine in my mouth tasting the copper hint of our blood. “Now if I’ve got it you’ve got it. Sisters forever,” she said staring at me.
I nodded, the effects of the pot and the magnitude of our pact were making me slightly lightheaded, but I silently reveled in the profoundness of our friendship. I was startled when she broke the silence with a laugh, but I looked at her and grinned.
“Let’s go make a turkey potato chip sandwich,” she said blowing out the candles and flicking on the lights. The mood of the night was swept away and I blinked, glancing around my room and finally back at her, my vision clearing. “I’ve got the munchies,” she giggled.
“Me too,” I said and grabbed the needle, tossing it into the garbage as we trotted down the stairs for a midnight snack.
Note to Readers: I'm so swamped lately I've sadly neglected my blogs, so as an alternative I decided to share a quick, off the cuff YA short story I wrote. My novel writing is mostly fantasy, but I like to try different styles of fiction once in awhile. So I hope you enjoyed, and hopefully I'll get my self in gear to write some insightful (more likely ranty) post on the writing life soon. -K.M. Randall