Swans Landing #1 - Surfacing (14 page)

But Miss Gale didn’t give me that kind of feeling. From her, I could believe that maybe she actually cared whether I really was okay. I rubbed my bottom lip roughly across my teeth, considering the idea of admitting to Miss Gale that I hadn’t had a full night of sleep in I didn’t know how long. That every time I did sleep, I woke up with nightmares of my mom’s withered, skeletal body as she breathed her last breath.

But that would only cause Miss Gale to worry about me, and I didn’t want to give her anything else to worry about when she had Sailor on her hands.

“Miss Gale?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What happened to Sailor’s parents?”

Miss Gale’s face paled and her eyes darted toward the front of the shop. She tried to regain her composure, but clearly my question had shaken her up.

“They’ve...” Miss Gale sucked in a deep breath and pushed her braid back behind her shoulder. “They’ve passed on,” she finally said.

My mouth formed into an O shape as I absorbed this. So that was what Sailor’s comment in the locker room on my first day of school meant. One dead parent didn’t make me special...because she had two.

“How did they die?” I asked.

But Miss Gale turned away and scrubbed at the old stove along the wall. “It was a long time ago, Mara,” she said. “No good can come out of digging up the past now. Let the lost souls lie in peace.”

Miss Gale kept working at the stove and began humming again, very softly, almost too low to hear. I had more questions I wanted to ask, but suddenly I couldn’t remember what they were. The low song seemed to melt away all of my irritation and curiosity and my eyelids grew a bit heavy. The temptation to put my head down on the counter and listen to Miss Gale’s low humming all day was almost too strong to resist.

When I closed my eyes, my mom’s fingers gently brushed through my hair and the scent of her lilac and vanilla perfume wafted around me. Through half-open eyes, I could see the air around me shimmering, rippling. My mom’s voice was in my head, softly calling my name.

“
Mara,”
she said. I could see her smiling, feel her presence on the barstool next to me. Her fingers trailed over my head, smoothing away the unruly locks of hair. She looked whole, healthy.

“Mom,” I whispered. My mouth opened, gasping for air. My body craved salt water and my tongue felt like coarse sandpaper along my gums. Leaning back, my arms and legs flailed, trying to kick through the heavy air that surrounded me.

The bar stool fell backward, slamming me hard into the wooden floor. Sharp pains shot like tiny spiders from the back of my head and down through my body, tingling in my fingers and toes. Now the shimmering was in my own head as lights from the pain danced before my eyes.

“Mara!” Miss Gale gasped. She ran out from behind the counter and knelt at my side, gently clasping her hands around mine. “Are you okay, honey?”

I laid on the floor, blinking up at her. It took a moment for the fog to shake away from my mind, but when it did, I leaped to my feet, pushing her away and putting some distance between us.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“Mara, honey, sit down,” Miss Gale told me gently, groaning a little as she stood back up. “You hit your head real hard.”

“No,” I said, backing up as she moved closer to me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember the last few minutes. Something weird had happened when Miss Gale hummed. Everything was hazy still and I didn’t feel like I could trust my own memory. But hadn’t something strange happened the last time Miss Gale hummed her song? I wasn’t sure. The days seemed to blur together in my mind the more I tried to think about it.

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to focus. “What’s happening to me?” I whispered.

Miss Gale gently wrapped her hand around my arm and steered me to another stool. “Sit down,” she commanded. “I’ll fix you some tea. You’ll feel right again soon.”

All I could do was sit while Miss Gale worked behind me to get some tea ready. My hands shook and my mouth still felt like I’d eaten a handful of sand.

My gaze flickered up from my lap and I caught sight of the old man from the front register hiding behind a shelf of flour and sugar. His eyes narrowed as he watched me sitting there. I stared back at him, unblinking, until finally he turned away and his footsteps retreated across the plank floor.

“Here you go,” Miss Gale said, slipping the cold glass of iced tea into my hand. I sipped it, surprised to find it salty instead of sweet. Like Miss Gale had read my mind.

But that was crazy. Who would put salt into a glass of tea?

It had to be my own taste buds making me think the tea was salty, since I craved it so badly. Maybe anything I ate right then would taste like salt.

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking another long sip.

Miss Gale’s eyes examined me. “You sure you’re all right?”

I nodded and wiped a few drops of tea from my mouth. “I’m fine.”

“You sure do say you’re ‘fine’ a lot,” Miss Gale told me, her hands on her hips. “Now how are you really?”

I leaned over the counter and squeezed my eyes shut. How was I really? I wasn’t sure that I even knew. For a moment, I was certain my mom had been there next to me. I had felt her and smelled her, heard her breathing in and out. Like if I had turned my head—slightly—she would be in the seat next to me, ordering a peach milkshake.

My hand shook as I reached out for the glass of tea. A bit sloshed on my chin when I tried to take another sip. The cool liquid filled my stomach and did actually make me feel better.

Miss Gale still eyed me, waiting for a response.

“I’m okay. Really. I think...” I didn’t know what I thought, except that maybe I was going crazy. “I think I’m going to go home,” I said, sliding off the bar stool. “Thanks for the food and everything.”

When I dug into my pocket, Miss Gale held up her hand. “It’s on me,” she said.

But I shook my head and continued to count out my money. “I insist on paying this time. You’ll never make any money if you keep giving food away.”

Miss Gale relented and took my money. “Go home and lay down,” she told me as she handed over my change. “But don’t fall asleep for a while. You might have a concussion. Call me if your daddy ain’t home when you get there and I’ll come over to take care of you.”

I nodded, but as I slipped out of the shop with the old man’s stare hard on my back, I knew that the last thing I would do right now was call Miss Gale. Things seemed to get too strange whenever she was around. I looked up at the dull sun in the gray afternoon sky. Everything seemed hazier than it had before, as if I were still stuck somewhere halfway between dreaming and awake.

I wasn’t sure at all anymore which world was real. Or which one was less frightening.

Chapter Fifteen

“We stayed out too long,” Sailor said.

“Why?” I squinted to see ahead in the darkness, at the small fire and group of people that she eyed as we drew closer. They sat just outside Moody’s Variety Store, the orange flames casting shadows on their faces. The light melody of guitars and fiddles drifted toward us. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Dylan said, though his body had clearly tensed at my side. “A few people like to play music at the Variety Store on Friday nights this time of year. Keep walking and don’t talk to them.”

We had spent the afternoon after school hunting seashells along the area by the lighthouse. Dylan carried a heavy bucket full of shells, sand dollars, and dried seahorses, thanks to the recent storms. He said that the first couple of days after a storm were always the best times to gather shells because the water churned up more pieces from the bottom.

But night had fallen before we’d realized it and our walk back home was cold and dark in the little light from the tiny sliver of moon in the sky.

I recognized a few faces when we got close to the group seated in ratty folding chairs around the small fire. Jim, the old man that ran the store, blew into a harmonica cupped in his weathered hands. Across the fire from him stood some kids from school, including Elizabeth, Jackie, and Josh.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from Josh’s face. He stared back at me as we approached, hugging his guitar to his stomach, fingers paused over the strings.

“There she is, Daddy,” Elizabeth said to a wide man seated nearby. She cast a disgusted look in my direction. “The new girl I told you about.”

The crowd fell silent, their stares watching our movements down the road toward them. Sailor crossed her arms over her chest as if shielding herself from them and huddled closer to Dylan’s side. He walked tall, his shoulders back, but I detected a twinge of nervousness in his jaw.

Something wasn’t right here. The group at the fire no longer and talked and laughed easily as they had before we’d gotten so close.

Elizabeth’s father stood from his chair, facing me over the fire. The shadows of the flames made him look fearsome in the dark night.

“So you’re Westray’s daughter,” he growled, eying me up and down.

My gaze drifted toward Josh, who stood rigid, with Elizabeth cuddling up to his side. She sneered at me as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. My hands rolled into fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Mr. Connors pointed a thick finger at me. “Tell your daddy to leave my crab pots alone,” he said. “Or next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

“Let the kids pass, Harry,” the old man named Jim said over his harmonica. “They ain’t done nothing to you.”

Mr. Connors turned on him, his face contorted in a vicious snarl. “Ain’t done nothing? Tell that to my children, who wonder why their daddy ain’t bringing home as much money as he used to. Tell that to Isaac Wood, who had to close down his oyster operation because
those people
drove him out of business.”

Jim looked unconcerned as he polished his harmonica on the edge of his shirt. “If you’d learn to be a better fisherman, you might catch something. Now sit down and let them pass.”

Mr. Connors huffed at the old man, but he sat, scratching his thick brown beard and staring hard at the three of us.

“Get on home,” Jim growled, shooting us a dark scowl and nodding into the distance. “It ain’t the new moon yet. Give us this one night in peace to play our kind of music.”

The three of us edged forward, Dylan’s hand on my arm guiding my way while Sailor remained huddled close to his other side. He was our beacon through the ocean of tension surrounding us.

I willed myself not to look at Josh, who had remained quiet throughout the whole exchange. But just as we passed, Elizabeth spoke up.

“Freaks,” she muttered. The boy that had slammed me into the wall the week before stood on Josh’s other side, cracking his knuckles as he sneered at us.

I should have kept walking, but I stopped, pulling myself from Dylan’s grasp and stepping toward Elizabeth.

“What did you say?” I demanded.

She looked back at me with a cool expression and lifted her chin. “I said,
freaks
,” she repeated. “That’s what the three of you are. Disgusting mutants. Something that shouldn’t even exist.”

My fists itched to pummel her face in. My right arm raised, drawing back, but Dylan grabbed my elbow and pulled me back to the safety of his side.

“They’re not worth it,” he muttered in my ear. “Keep walking and let it go.”

“See what a psycho she is?” Elizabeth asked, her voice loud enough to ensure that everyone heard. “Those people are a danger to society. They shouldn’t be allowed to walk around here like they own the place.”

I lunged toward her, but Dylan tightened his grip, holding me back. “Let. It. Go,” he growled.

My gaze slid to Josh. He met my eyes for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looked at Dylan behind me, scowling, and he bent his head over his guitar as Dylan led me away.

Chapter Sixteen

“What exactly is it you do that requires you to be gone all night?” I asked.

Lake moved around the kitchen/living room, checking to make sure I had food, checking that all the windows were locked, checking for I didn’t even know what. It all seemed like a lot of preparation for one night away.

He had informed me earlier in the afternoon that he would be leaving before sunset and wouldn’t be back until late the next morning. He wouldn’t say why he was going, only that he had to.

“Just some fishing thing,” he told me.

But he walked around the house, murmuring to himself and giving me reminders about what to do, things like “brush your teeth” and “don’t let strangers in”—obviously forgetting that almost everyone on this island was a stranger to me. He acted as if he thought he may be gone for a very long time, despite the small duffel bag he deposited next to the front door.

I took a sip of my salt water. The cravings had grown stronger over the course of the day, probably stronger than I’d ever felt them before. If anything, living near a huge ocean of salt should have eased the cravings a little, but it had only made them worse.