Page 5 of Envy


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“She’s working. She’s a sculptor. And—”

“What’s that?”

“She has a bunch of clay.” She must see the blank look on my face because she says, “It’s like wet dirt.”

“Oh, okay.”

“She uses it and makes shapes out of it. Like small people and stuff. Anyway, when she’s working, I have to be quiet. So, I left. And she called after me, but she wouldn’t walk into the woods after me because she’s terrified of snakes,” she explains.

“And you’re not?” I ask her. Everyone I know, including myself, is afraid of snakes.

“I didn’t see any on my way here.”

“Where’s your stuff?” I slip my feet into my docksiders. I look up to find her frowning at me. Her little freckled nose is scrunched up, and her mouth is puckered in disapproval. Her hair and bathing suit is nearly dry already, but I notice she’s barefoot. Her little toes are painted the same gold as her fingernails.

I glance in both directions around the shore and don’t see any clothes or anything.

“We should give you a middle name,” she says. She’s got that big smile on her face again, and her eyes roam my face.

“Uh, no thanks.” I roll my eyes.

“Why not?” she asks.

“Because I’m happy with my name, and I don’t know you,” I say and snag my T-shirt from the ground.

“Of course, you know me. I’m Apollo. You saved my life. You’re my hero,” she declares, and I slip my T-shirt over my head to hide my dumb blush.

“Did you hear me? You’re a hero,” she repeats.

“I ain’t no hero. I didn’t do nothing.”

“Your deeds are your monuments,” she says.

I roll my eyes again. “You talk like you’re grown up. What in the world does that e’en mean?” I ask her.

“It’s what Papa used to say that it’s the things we do that make us who we are. I would have drowned if you hadn’t been here. When I was falling all I could think was that maybe it was my time.” She shrugs and pauses for air, and I cut her off.

“Well, you should probably learn how to swim if you’re gonna be here for a month.” I put my hands on my hips and ask again, “Now. Where’s your stuff?”

“Up there.” She points up at the highest point of Devil’s Mountain. I didn’t realize she fell from all the way up there. I look a little at the cliff that I assumed she’d fallen from. I can’t believe she didn’t break every bone in her body falling from that height.

Even I’ve never dared to climb that high up.

“Your aunt is right to be scared. You climbed up there?”

She nods proudly.

“Through that forest?” I ask again just be sure.

Her expression becomes guarded. “Yes, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That part of the cliff is full of rattlers. Diamondbacks are everywhere. I went up there once and turned back after I saw two rattlers back to back,” I warn her.

Her eyes are wide as saucers, and she glances down at the ground before they dart around the wooded shoreline.

“Do … do …” She stops and swallows hard.

“Do I what?” I snap impatiently, my hands on my hips as I wait for her to spit it out.

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