The Lake and the Library by S. M. Beiko Read Free Book Online Page A

evident rattling I could hear in her chest as she clutched me to it.
    â€œI know I’m the kid, but you’re the one with the bad habits.”
    She just smiled and made me hand over my muddy sweatshirt. “Worry about yourself for a change. Where were you? Rolling around in the receiving ponds by the plant?”
    She moved away, depositing my sweater in the laundry on the way to the kitchen. I was glad she left me alone, because I couldn’t hide the muscles tensing in my face. Where had I been? It was a straight enough question. After I wriggled out into the open, into the deepening dark, I knew that I had walked and walked, but until Mum had asked, I had no idea how my feet got me home. I felt completely detached, like I’d been sleeping, like it was suspended above me but it hadn’t happened at all. I do remember looking back though, seeing the building like I always had, except now it looked less solid, like a mirage about to fade away.
    â€œ
You
okay?” Mum chided from the kitchen, the kettle clicking off. My mouth couldn’t form the words, and the dream memories hung full of holes around me, trying to coalesce into sense, and failing.
    I shrugged it off, tried to look convincing, huddled around my mug when she offered it. “Fine,” I finally got out. I didn’t have the constitution to deal with phantom boys and abandoned libraries right now. I needed to prove it wasn’t a dream before I let anyone else in.
    â€œI’m sorry I was out so long, sweetie. I had to take a split shift for the new nurse and had to sign some papers at the real estate agent. Oh, and were you in the garage, earlier? You left the door open, scatterbrain.”
    I slumped into a rickety chair at the table, letting my lungs deflate through chilly lips. “Sorry,” I muttered, closing my eyes and relaxing as the heat of the tea washed through my marrow.
    I could feel Mum watching me through her half-lidded eyes, the way she watched her patients while their IVs dripped and they made it through the night. She was looking me over for vital signs, or the lack of them. “Things’ll be different soon,” she said.
    I perked up, forced a reassuring smile. “Sooner the better, right?”
    Unable to catch the words from spilling out, I suddenly thought of Tabs. I imagined her lying on her bed with
The Slider
album playing behind her thoughts, dreaming hard of cosmic dancing right out of Treade in my wake. If I could whisper her into a bottle and carry her away with me, I would. But there’s no enchantment in Treade, remember?
    Or is there?
I cast an unsure glance to the bandaged hand in my lap.
    â€œSo where were you? Waiting things out at Tabitha’s? In the mud?” Mum smiled, her smoker’s creases crinkling deeper. Past the smoke, her smells of LypSyl and the lemon disinfectant from Treade General where she spent her days — and most nights — were usually comforting. They didn’t help me now, though, just put me on edge as I tried to wake myself up.
    A mouthful of tea inspired an evasive reply. “I get the feeling I’ve ruined the summer for her. Leaving at the end of it, and all.” I sighed, because this was the truth, but it wasn’t what was at the forefront of my mind.
    Mum eased back into her chair, fiddling with her half-blonde, half-mousy locks. “You’ve been best friends for ten years, sweetheart. It’s a hard hit, but she has to learn to deal with change.”
    I prickled, seeing Tabitha’s set mouth when she said she and Paul had made other plans without me, had given up on me without warning. “Well, it’s her problem, isn’t it? Guess I’ll just let her deal with it . . . I’ll wait
that
storm out here for a while, thanks.”
    I wrapped my pruney fingers around the mug, making sure to conceal my bandaged hand behind my back as I groaned to my feet, kissed Mum gratefully, and headed to