Yes, Purdy used to have a snake attached to her leg. She went camping when she was a kid and woke up one morning and there it was, fangs dug into the outside of her right thigh.

I saw it soon after. It was just a little thing, baby rattler. A diamond back, I think. It hung there, straight and narrow by its teeth, little rattle at the end shaking a bit as she walked. Purdy said it didn't hurt. No blood escaped where it bit her, and she never dropped dead from the poison.

It wasn't the first time she'd been bit by a snake. She sat on a whole bed of baby rattlers once. She went to cop a squat in the tall grass in her daddy's pasture, but didn't see the nest. She had little two-pronged bites everywhere. Her mama was pretty worried, calling out to the Lord, getting the preacher to lay hands on her. The most Purdy did was ask for lima beans, which was strange because she'd always hated them.

At first Doc Hampton tried to remove the snake, but the more he pulled on its head, the deeper it dug in. Purdy cried at first, not because she was in pain, but because she was afraid the thing would get hurt. Doc wanted to burn its head off, but she wouldn't hear of it. So, one night while she slept, her mother rolled on the floor praying while Doc lit a match to the snake's tail. The funny thing was, they told me, it wouldn't burn. The flame just made its skin light up like a Christmas tree, red and gold. All night long Purdy's mother sat in the corner of the room watching it glow. It was a sign from God, she told Doc. After that night, she stopped praying for deliverance. That little snake held the light of God; it was going to keep her baby strong.

The next day, Purdy came to school wearing a blue dress that went down to her knees and new white patent leather shoes. The snake's tail showed below the lace hem of her dress.

"What's that?" Red Mitchum asked, pointing to the snake's rattle that was swaying back and forth beneath the fabric.

I elbowed him in the ribs for being rude.

"It's my cousin, Lucas" she said.

"What does it eat?" Red asked.

This time I kicked his shin.

"My blood," Purdy said, adjusting the sash on her dress.

She had sweet blood. I knew because several years before we had sat under the oak tree in her pasture, pricked our fingers, and pledged our undying loyalty to each other. To seal the pact, we sucked each other's blood. Purdy sucked my finger for a couple seconds and spat. I slurped hers and didn't stop until she pushed me away.

"What the hell are you doing?" she had said, pushing my head.

I didn't want to stop. Her blood was so sweet and thick and warm. This was why all those baby snakes bit her, not because they wanted to kill her, but because they wanted to taste her. This was why Lucas, the snake, couldn't let go.

The bell rang, and we all went inside. Reading, math class, P.E. For lunch we traded sandwiches, my bologna and ketchup on Wonder for her turkey and cranberry sauce on rye.

Eventually we all got used to Lucas, the way he swished within the folds of Purdy's dresses, how he stiffened whenever Purdy got in trouble with the teacher and rattled during music time.

Over the years, the snake grew longer until his tail reached the top of Purdy's shoes. While the rest of us traded our knee-high skirts and pinafores for bell-bottom jeans, she had to wear long skirts, on account of not wanting to squish Lucas inside a pant leg. Sometimes it was hard for her to walk or do P.E. because she'd trip over his tail. We could tell she was getting sick of her constant companion. Every so often she'd "accidentally" bump a table or door with the right side of her leg, making Lucas rattle furiously. Then there was the time she tried to light his tail on fire on a Bunsen burner, but his body just absorbed heat and made him glow through her skirt all afternoon. We couldn't help but stare at the long, thin silhouette curved around her right leg.

Her desire to detach herself from the snake grew hottest when Jeremy came along. He was a transfer from Filigree High School, and we all loved his square jaw and tight jeans. He sat in the back of the class with the other smart alecks, ignoring us, no matter how many times we walked to the back to sharpen our pencils. He did have eyes for Purdy, though. His first day in class, he asked her where the lunch room was. She excused herself and offered to show him, taking his arm at the elbow, like they do in the movies, and led him down the hallway. Jeremy didn't seem to notice the progressive rattle under her skirt.

After the last basketball game of the season, we partied in William Razor's woods. We all sat around the bonfire on hay bales, drinking beer, and throwing bits of straw into the flames. Trees around these parts were scarce, so we brought our own wood, scraps from the garage, old dressers, a kitchen chair with a vinyl-covered seat. The yellow-flowered print melted all over the frame, liquid dripping on a white chifforobe.

As we got warmer, Jeremy took Purdy into the darkness among the tree stumps, spread out a wool blanket, and lay down beside her. The light from the fire barely reached them, coloring their faces orange. He could see her eyes sparkling, reflecting the dancing flames, which were reaching up high now since Red had thrown a piano bench atop everything. Purdy lay on her left side, facing the boy, and discreetly, pushed the snake's body behind her. Jeremy traced the curves of her face with his finger, then moved slowly down her neck, between her breasts, to the base of her sweater. He let his hand linger on her waist and leaned in to kiss her.

He tasted like soap, she said later, unscented but clean. She lifted her skirt to allow him to reach up under it and rub her leg lightly. She shivered.

The snake, then, perhaps in jealousy, let go of Purdy's leg and gouged Jeremy's hand. The boy jerked his hand out from under the skirt, yelping and trying desperately to shake the reptile off. In all the commotion, he didn't see Purdy convulsing, didn't see her body stiffen and thrust backward, back arching. Didn't see the white foam slip out of her mouth and down the side of her face. Didn't see her fall unconscious.

Some of us heard his cries and rushed into the woods. We saw him trying to shake Lucas off his hand, saw him bang the creature's head on a stump over and over and over, until we were sure he'd bashed its head in. Even after all that, it still managed to rattle. Red rushed to help by grabbing the snake's tail and pulling. Jeremy stood on one side of the stump while Red stood on the other, putting his foot up on the wood to brace himself, then they both pulled with all their might. It worked. After a few seconds, the snake let go Jeremy's hand, carrying a glob of skin and muscle in its mouth. Jeremy cried out in pain and tried to stop the bleeding with his good hand. Tracy, who had been waiting in the shadows, walked to him, took off her bandanna and wrapped it around his hand, keeping her eyes on his face. Red tossed the snake to the ground and stomped on its head. Someone handed him a burning branch and he proceeded to bash its brains in. The torch made Lucas burn a determined yellow-red as he twitched and hopped with each blow, still trying futilely to slither away.

No one heard Purdy's gurgling sounds as Red delivered one final blow to the snake's head, number 40. It lay in the flattened grass, curved and still, glowing softly. It was funny how the light pulsed with its fading heartbeat until it grew dark.

While Tracy walked Jeremy to her car–(She had offered him a ride home, of course.)–we turned our attention to Purdy.

Red placed his ear to her mouth. "She's still breathing," he said.

The group let out a sigh of relief.

He picked her up and held her limp in his arms, her head leaning back, mouth open, legs and arms dangling. We tried to fold her arms over her chest but they wouldn't stay. Luckily, her house wasn't far away.

"I'm going to take her home," Red said, and began to walk into the night.

A couple of us grabbed torches and walked beside him. Purdy's skirt was tangled up under her, exposing her legs. We saw the two red marks where the snake's fangs had been. The skin around them was beginning to bruise.

Sandra Hosking