do the same thing to me when we were kids, a stupid prank. But apparently I could do stupid, so I called on them. Because now that I'd felt the sand between my toes and the fading heat from the setting sun on my skin, all the longing was back, and with it, the responsibilities I’d abandoned to go in search of the brother I never found. And it only seemed fair since it was all her fault, this girl with short hair and freckled skin and her compelling Song.
So when the tiny army of crabs assembled, I didn't feel the least bit guilty.
Three
Caris
C aris .
I ignored the voice. I didn't want to wake up, not yet. This dream was too nice, too real. The kind of dream that when you woke up, the only thing you remembered was the feeling it evoked and none of the details. I knew even in my dream state that I wanted to remember the details.
"Caris?"
My eyes opened through a haze of confusion. A tickle on my chest brought my head off the sand, and I found myself staring into the blue, beady eyes of a crab. His claw snapped in the direction of my nose and I leaped to my feet. A dozen crabs scurried for safety. They escaped through my dancing feet but not before something crunched under my foot, pricking my heel.
"Ugh." I slowly lifted my foot, revealing the cracked crustacean underneath. "Sorry." I winced in sympathy. It looked like a baby crab.
Laughter floated on the wind and my head snapped up, eyes searching for the source. The beach was empty except for an older couple walking hand in hand too far down for me to hear. I looked over my shoulder and found my dad jogging toward me, his brow creased over soft sympathetic eyes. He'd been looking at me like that often lately, as though I were the victim of some unspeakable disease.
"What are you still doing out here?" His voice carried a hint of alarm, as though I’d been caught somewhere I shouldn't have been. The sky was now a dusky gray, evidence I had been out here longer than I’d intended.
"I’m sorry." I brushed the sand from my legs and the back of my shorts. "I must have fallen asleep." Gone comatose was more like it, as if a spell had been cast over me. Maybe it had. The wind and the waves had lulled me into a state of hypnosis. I shook my head.
"I've got most of your boxes already in your room."
He sported a v-shaped patch of sweat under the neckline of his t-shirt, and I instantly felt a pang of guilt. I'd fallen asleep and left him to unload the car by himself.
"You should have gotten me to help you," I said around a stifled yawn. I lifted my hands over my head and stretched through a twinge in my back. Lumpy sand didn't make the most comfortable bed.
"There wasn't much." He draped his arm over my shoulder and he guided me back toward the house. "And your room has a better view than mine does. I think you'll really like it."
I resisted the urge to look back at the Gulf. My spine tingled and I imagined the water had eyes and was watching me. When we were inside the house, I sprinted up the stairs certain something chased me.
The whole upstairs was mine. Boxes containing all of my worldly possessions were piled haphazardly across the floor. My record player, as the first order of business, found its home in the center of the built-in bookshelves, and my vinyl collection was housed on the shelves next door. The rest of the shelves were destined to remain empty. My dad and I had argued, but I had finally agreed to leave my books in storage. My iPad would have to suffice, and though I had nothing against technology, like my music, I preferred it the old-fashioned way—paper and print over digital.
It took all of twenty minutes to empty my two suitcases of clothes, most of which I hung in the closet—a handful of dresses, jeans, and some tops. Any non-hanging items were stuffed on the shelves. One pair of broken-in cowboy boots stood next to my ever-growing collection of flip-flops and Toms. Placing my laptop on the desk across from the bed, I was done, with
So when the tiny army of crabs assembled, I didn't feel the least bit guilty.
Three
Caris
C aris .
I ignored the voice. I didn't want to wake up, not yet. This dream was too nice, too real. The kind of dream that when you woke up, the only thing you remembered was the feeling it evoked and none of the details. I knew even in my dream state that I wanted to remember the details.
"Caris?"
My eyes opened through a haze of confusion. A tickle on my chest brought my head off the sand, and I found myself staring into the blue, beady eyes of a crab. His claw snapped in the direction of my nose and I leaped to my feet. A dozen crabs scurried for safety. They escaped through my dancing feet but not before something crunched under my foot, pricking my heel.
"Ugh." I slowly lifted my foot, revealing the cracked crustacean underneath. "Sorry." I winced in sympathy. It looked like a baby crab.
Laughter floated on the wind and my head snapped up, eyes searching for the source. The beach was empty except for an older couple walking hand in hand too far down for me to hear. I looked over my shoulder and found my dad jogging toward me, his brow creased over soft sympathetic eyes. He'd been looking at me like that often lately, as though I were the victim of some unspeakable disease.
"What are you still doing out here?" His voice carried a hint of alarm, as though I’d been caught somewhere I shouldn't have been. The sky was now a dusky gray, evidence I had been out here longer than I’d intended.
"I’m sorry." I brushed the sand from my legs and the back of my shorts. "I must have fallen asleep." Gone comatose was more like it, as if a spell had been cast over me. Maybe it had. The wind and the waves had lulled me into a state of hypnosis. I shook my head.
"I've got most of your boxes already in your room."
He sported a v-shaped patch of sweat under the neckline of his t-shirt, and I instantly felt a pang of guilt. I'd fallen asleep and left him to unload the car by himself.
"You should have gotten me to help you," I said around a stifled yawn. I lifted my hands over my head and stretched through a twinge in my back. Lumpy sand didn't make the most comfortable bed.
"There wasn't much." He draped his arm over my shoulder and he guided me back toward the house. "And your room has a better view than mine does. I think you'll really like it."
I resisted the urge to look back at the Gulf. My spine tingled and I imagined the water had eyes and was watching me. When we were inside the house, I sprinted up the stairs certain something chased me.
The whole upstairs was mine. Boxes containing all of my worldly possessions were piled haphazardly across the floor. My record player, as the first order of business, found its home in the center of the built-in bookshelves, and my vinyl collection was housed on the shelves next door. The rest of the shelves were destined to remain empty. My dad and I had argued, but I had finally agreed to leave my books in storage. My iPad would have to suffice, and though I had nothing against technology, like my music, I preferred it the old-fashioned way—paper and print over digital.
It took all of twenty minutes to empty my two suitcases of clothes, most of which I hung in the closet—a handful of dresses, jeans, and some tops. Any non-hanging items were stuffed on the shelves. One pair of broken-in cowboy boots stood next to my ever-growing collection of flip-flops and Toms. Placing my laptop on the desk across from the bed, I was done, with
Similar Books
Big Shot
Joanna Wayne
The Silver Falcon
Evelyn Anthony
Eureka
Jim Lehrer
Ruined
Scott Hildreth
Sheila Connolly - Reunion with Death
Sheila Connolly
Seeds of Rebellion
Brandon Mull
The Alchemical Detective (Riga Hayworth)
Kirsten Weiss
Specimen 313
Jeff Strand
Eejit: A Tale of the Final Fall of Man
Andrew Hindle
Blue
Lisa Glass