mushrooms, pt 1

   "Dude, there is actual stuff growing out of your arm."

   Liam doesn't usually get concerned, but he is now as he examines your injured arm. His fingers on the little, white lobes and thin healing skin make you shiver with something you can't name, so you pull away and tuck it underneath the table where he can't prod.

   "Yeah, I. I guess." You say slowly, and that's it, even though you can still feel his eyes questioning you. You'd rather Liam get a little ticked than admit you did something as stupid as falling out of a tree and getting scraped like that. You continue talking only after you realize he's gone completely still, his fingers twitching around his pen, just staring. It takes a while, honestly. Your brain's been getting sluggish lately. Maybe you should get some more rest.

  "Hey, no. Yeah. I feel good, okay?" Because you really do. You do feel good. Since you got hurt you've been kicking back a bit. Eating more. Sleeping lots. Your arm doesn't even hurt anymore, though it's still a queasy color and seeping around the tender nubs converging underneath. He doesn't seem too convinced, but he doesn't say anything either and doesn't even sneer when you drop your pencil for the seventh time. Your fingers just keep getting clumsier these days. You probably need more rest.

   When your homework's all done, you give Liam a sleepy wave good-bye and set off home, carefully turning your arm so the delicate, pearly fronds poking out of your skin catch the last rays of light. His eyes follow you all the way out the door.

---

Later, when you're settling down for sleep in front of your bedroom window and brushing your fingers through the small fronds, it occurs to you how much bigger they've gotten. You're repulsed on a distant level when you realize how incredibly good that makes you feel. You thought they were scary at first, your little growths, disgusting and painful, but the initial shock has worn off by now and they hardly hurt at all if you don't pull at them. They're actually sort of pretty, all fragile and opalescent; like living jewelry. And when you let them drink in the sun it feels like you're thrumming all over. You've taken to sleeping in the daytime in front of the window, even though somewhere behind everything else you know there are other things you need to be doing. School, maybe. Liam's voice-mails just keep piling up. But Gramma doesn't notice that you're not going to school or anything, and it feels so nice to know you're taking care of them right.