Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,2

cloth is, but as the cloth itself.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” I mutter. I have. Several hundred times. All from Maya.

Mom tells her to be nice, and I smile and stick my tongue out like a child even though I’m a grown woman now. I wonder when I’ll actually feel like a woman. My body certainly hasn’t gotten the message that femininity should’ve reached its peak within me by now. Exhibit A being my chicken legs and exhibit B being my lack of graceful...anything.

Papa tells us all to stop walking and take in salty air.

While we’re both intelligent, and share the same ridiculous sense of humor, this is where we differ. Papa is sentimental in a way that’s almost whimsical. He can put aside logic for feeling.

While I watch him close his eyes and take a deep breath, I realize I envy him. That he can have the best of both worlds where as I manage to live within the boundary lines of just the one.

Normally, I’d roll my eyes or just pretend to go along with it, but it’s my last summer here before I head back to college and begin my new research project, and who knows, maybe my last summer here ever, and I made a promise to myself that I’m going to savor each and every minute I have left in this place. So, I do what Papa says, and stop, face the water, and close my eyes. The salt is so thick in the air that I can taste it in my mouth before I even have a chance to inhale.

I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t. My lungs are already full, but not with air. I cough one of those gross wet coughs where you can feel stuff moving around in your lungs. And the air might as well be a like a salt lick because what I cough up tastes like I’ve been licking at one all day.

My mother comes to my side to ask if I’m okay. I nod, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and flash her a smile, reassuring her that I’m fine. She reminds me that I always get a cold at the end of the summer. She’s right. I always do.

So much for my attempt at being a free spirit.

I smirk to myself. Mallory will be wearing her surgical mask the entire trip home so she doesn’t catch my cold. She’ll be giving me her usual raised-eyebrow, side-glances every time I sneeze like I’ve got the zombie plague. I make a mental note to throw in some additional fake sneezes and coughs for good measure.

We continue walking. My feet are aching to the point that I’m limping. I do my best to hide it so Mama won’t worry. I don’t want to complain either, she’s heard enough of that today. Besides, she said we’re almost there, so I’ll be able to rest them soon.

The white and yellow of approaching headlights spread wide in the light of dawn like portals of blurry suns. I pause and shield my eyes for a moment before we all continue on. A loud horn blasts from a passing car, making Maya jump and Mallory curse as it fades off down the road.

After a few more miles, the road becomes thin and cracked with no markings separating the lanes. There are no more lights or bars or people.

Mindy whines to Papa, and he assures her again that we are almost there, but I’m beginning to think there doesn’t exist.

A black truck pulls up beside us and stops. It’s on big, lifted tires. I crane my neck when the window rolls down. A man appears although he’s so high up I can’t make out his face.

“Miss, you need a ride?” he asks, sounding concerned.

I smile, and my lips crack. A trickle of blood runs down my jaw, and I wipe it away with my wet shirt. It stings from the salt but my smile doesn’t falter. I’m just so happy to be with my family. To be here. I have to be happy.

I can’t not smile.

But why am I bleeding?

All three of my sisters are begging my parents to let us get into this stranger’s truck, but I know they’ll never allow it. So, as much as I appreciate the offer, I politely decline.

“Thank you so much, but no thank you.”

My sisters giggle, and although I can’t see the man, I realize that he must be decent