She said, “I double dare you,” and I drank the skunk juice.

That’s all I remember because when I came to, a nurse had implanted an IV into my arm, and I could feel my heart beat through my finger. Mom was on my left and Dad, on my right. I tried rubbing my eyes, but my finger was tethered by the heart monitor, and the other one — missing?

“Where’s my left arm?” I cried out. My voice sounded like it was coated in dust.

“Oh, honey,” Mom cooed, and then draped herself over me. “You’re awake!”

Dad grabbed my right hand and squeezed. I had a feeling he was going to be doing that a lot here lately.

“But my arm?”

“It had to be amputated,” Mom said, lifting herself back up. My hospital gown was wet from her tears.

“I don’t understand, " I said.

“It could’ve been much worse,” Dad said. “You had a violent reaction to that skunk juice you drank.”

Oh. The skunk juice.