my bare fingers like a crack addict sucking on a dirty pipe.
If only I'd thought to grab a fork ...
I set the cake down beside me. "Hey, Peach."
She kept jogging in place, then said, "I'm sorry about before."
I shrugged. "It's okay."
"No, it's not. I was being jerky, and I suck. I'm sorry."
I looked at her and smiled. "Apology accepted."
She grinned back, slowing from jogging in place to just moving her legs a bit. "Good." She waved me toward her. "Come on, run with me and we can talk about everything. I was almost done, but I can squeeze in another mile or two without dropping dead."
I busted out with a sharp laugh. "Seriously? You think I'm going to run a mile?"
She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Fine. We'll power walk. But I tell you, exercise is the best thing when you're feeling like hell. You breathe in the air and your heart gets pumping and it's just ... whoo! Invigorating. Know what I mean?"
I stared at her. I had just been contemplating downing an entire chocolate cake in one sitting. Of course I didn't know what she meant.
"Yeah, you're probably right, but I don't think so."
"Okay." She touched her neck with two fingers, glanced at her wristwatch, and slowed down the jogging to walking in place. After a few seconds, she stopped moving altogether, then rested both palms on the tree, stuck one leg straight out behind her, and stretched.
"So, are we doing Confessional on Saturday? I really think we should. If you want, I can host, I just have to get all of Nick's landscaping crap out of my living room." She switched her stance, stretching yet another muscle group, although I couldn't tell which one. "Did I tell you about the solar walkway lights he bought when Dunlop's went out of business? Two freaking thousand of them, to sell in a town that gets six weeks of sunlight a year."
I stared down at the chocolate cake by my side. Was I really so insecure that I couldn't snarf a little cake just because Peach was a health nut? I was just about to pick it up when I heard wood creaking, and looked up to check where the swing hooks were attached to the porch ceiling. Jeez. You know it's bad when your house starts making commentary on your weight.
"Anyway, of course, he ran out of room in his storage space, so guess where the extras ended - ow!"
I jolted at the thunk sound. Peach pulled back from the tree, rubbing her shoulder, then bent over and picked up what looked like a pale wooden lime from my yard.
"Walnuts?" she said, picking it up and twirling it in her hand. She glanced up at the tree. "This isn't a walnut tree ... is it?" She stepped back, staring up into the branches of the tree.
"No. It's an oak," I said, and then I heard it again ... that creaking. I got off the swing, and the creaking continued. I looked up at the tree, and saw in the light of the streetlamp what looked like long fingers of dark gray smoke swirling oddly around one branch. Then, out of thin air, another walnut appeared and flew down straight at Peach, who jumped out of the way at the last minute. She looked at me. "Are you throwing walnuts at me?"
I shook my head, then looked up and down the street; it was quiet, almost ominously so, and the hair on my arms shot up.
"Peach, come up here on the porch, please," I said, trying to keep my voice firm but calm as the creaking sound started up again, louder this time. The trunk of the tree behind her seemed to be shaking now, and the gray smoke was starting to spread through more branches.
"Not if you're throwing things at me. Jeez, Liv, I said I was sorr - ow!" A walnut bounced off her head, and she looked up into the branches of the three. "What the hell? Is there a bird or something in there?" She stopped talking suddenly, seeming to freeze where she was, then said slowly, "Liv, is your tree smoking?"
The creaking got louder, the sound approaching violence, and the smoke began to swirl around the branches, weaving between them with will, like snakes.
"Peach, get up here!" I yelled, but Peach just stood there, staring up into the branches, dumbfounded.
I dashed inside and grabbed my biggest umbrella from the holder by the front door, then shot