Warding gesture

Not a scratch on this car, brain boy,’ he warned me as | loaded the last bag. ‘Not one little scratch.’
Like I'd be the one driving. | was twelve. But that didn’t matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he’d find a way to blame me.
Watching him lumber back towards the apartment building, | got so mad | did something | can’t explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, | made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement towards Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he’d been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but | didn’t stay long enough to find out.
| got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.

TLT ch.3