Davey stared out his bedroom window; a sheer curtain was the only thing protecting him from prying eyes. His older brother, Kenny, was shuffling to the mailbox, the odd way he moved since the accident. The one that Mom and Dad still fight about long into the night when they think Davey’s asleep. Neither of them knows the whole truth — the dare Kenny’s dumb friend Scott goaded him into, which led to the motorcycle crash. Or how Scott freaked out instead of calling for help, and now never visits. Well, his loss. 

It took Kenny three minutes to reach the mailbox, and then he just stood there like he’d forgotten what he was doing. He’d probably stand there all afternoon if someone didn’t help him. The doctors said it was part of his brain injury because he hadn’t worn a helmet. If he’d broken a bone, people would be more understanding, but his scars were invisible, making people stare.

Across the street, Mrs. Brown sat on her front porch pretending to read, but she was really watching Kenny. Her ploy would be more believable if her book weren’t upside down. Davey sighed and jogged outside. She wasn’t getting a show today.

“Fetching the mail?” he asked before waving at Mrs. Brown.

She turned her book the right way up.

“I. Uh. Mail?” Kenny never spoke in full sentences anymore. 

Stupid broken brain.

“Never mind.” Davey reached for his brother’s hand and gave a gentle tug. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

Word: hand | Action: holding