Spring Tide by K. Dicke Read Free Book Online Page B

on the bland, commercial carpet of the hallway. She was wearing a tiny black dress, a red silk scarf draped over one shoulder, and four-inch heels. Her bleach-blond hair was pulled up, her makeup flawless. I rarely got to see the before snapshot of her, was more familiar with the after.
    “Oh hey, yeah you. I know you.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re the little elf that did my dishes yesterday and took out the trash. You sorta look like the girl that feeds Bongos.”
    I’d done her dishes over a week prior. “Why’d you name him Bongos?”
    “You don’t know? Well come on.” She latched my arm to hers and took me to her unit. “We’ll have to hurry. I’m meeting Joel and he’s too good to disappoint, you know what I mean? Everything about him makes my toes curl, the things he says, the way he says them, how he touches—”
    “We’d better hustle then.”
    Her place was worse than before, the smell of litter box and tobacco heavy in the air. She wandered around the clutter, put a small set of bongo drums on the coffee table, and made a brash meowing sound. The cat came out from under the sofa and hopped up onto the table. Holy cow. The animal was actually thumping the bongos with its paws. After thirteen seconds and a wicked little jam, his furry face turned up to her.
    She petted him, scratching behind his ears. “I’ve had him since he was a kitten. He’s a talented little bastard, isn’t he? Good kitty!”
    “He really is.” I went to the door. “Hey, Sylvia, go easy tonight. I’ll see you later.”
    When did my life get so weird? Random lightning, spooky mist, dwarves, cats that play reggae … what’s next? As long as I’m losin’ it, breakdancing leprechauns would be cool.
    I walked into our condo and found Sarah in our living room with a bottle of aloe vera in her hands.
    I leaned against the wall. “Sylvia’s cat can beat drums. It’s worth the visit, but she might make you drink vodka with her.”
    She looked up. “That’s what that noise is?”
    “Yep. Hey, I didn’t want to say anything during the rockin’ pity party y’all had for me earlier, but what’s up with the burn? Sunscreen’s your religion.” I scrutinized the area of her face where her sunglasses had been.
    “I fell asleep lying out this morning.” Her mouth turned down. “Look at me. I’m a clownfish. I have stripes, Kris. Stripes.”
    Her legs were streaked in shades of red, tan, and hot pink. She showed me her stomach, which was worse, and I showed her my bruises to make her feel better.
    “That looks ouchy. You’re okay? You’re sick of being asked that, huh?” She resumed rubbing gel into her skin. “So who called Derek? I didn’t get that part.”
    “Me either. The only thing I can gather is that I pulled up his number before I passed out and the paramedic called him for me. But why would he’ve done that?”
    “Maybe you were in shock and asked him to?”
    “Maybe.” Did I? I started toward my room. “Don’t mean to be antisocial but …”
    “It’s okay. And, Kris, I am really sorry and not just about your hair.”
    “Thanks.”
    As I walked up the short hall I mulled over the porpoise story. When I was sixteen I had an accident with my skateboard, had hit my head pretty good. At the second of collision I’d thought for sure that I’d broken my entire face and it’d scared the holy crud out of me. But by the day’s end the swelling had gone down, the bleeding had stopped, and there’d only been a cut and some bruising on my cheek. I hadn’t remembered the drive from the skate park to Derek’s house, but did remember seeing stars: concussion. What had happened at The Bakery might’ve been the same kind of thing. Maybe I’d freaked so hard when my attacker had dropped me that fear made the beating seem much worse than it actually was. Maybe the blinding light I’d seen was from my head hitting the floor. I was grasping at straws and knew it, but those were the only