“Naw,” she said. “But I can pretend.”
Danny came into the small trailer and closed the door. With him and us and his gun, it was close, stuffy, and uncomfortable.
“I think she might really be hurt,” I said.
I didn’t, but I wanted him to think so. The blood had soaked through the kerchief.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” I asked.
“Naw,” he said.
“There’s one in my backpack,” Lydia said.
Danny went to her and began pulling things out of the backpack while he kept a hold of the gun: snacks, water, then a small first aid kit. He opened the kit.
“What am I looking for?” Danny asked.
“First let’s wash it,” I said.
“I don’t have water here,” he said. “Here’s an alcohol pad. That’ll wash it.”
“Are you gonna do it or will you take off these cuffs so I can do it?” I asked.
“You do it,” he
