Read Online Black Dog Summer by Miranda Sherry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Miranda Sherry
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dinnertime.
After three months, we still had not run out of things to say to each other, although sometimes the delicious torture of sitting beside Liam overwhelmed me, and I would go dry-mouthed and silent. He smelt like freshly mown grass clippings, and occasionally the fine golden hairs on his lean, tanned arm would brush against mine.
One afternoon, while we were making the most of the end-of-summer sun on the stoop, Liam challenged me to a climb up the old tipuana tree.
âYouâre on!â I said, and we both jumped up, jostling into each other and laughing like kids as we ran towards the tree, racing to be first to scramble up the trunk.
âIâd forgotten how much fun this is!â I yelped as I swung myself up onto a swaying branch, my hands stinging on the uneven bark.
âWow, youâre like a total monkey-girl,â Liam said, laughing. âI get the nickname now.â
âHey, guys, what on earth are you doing?â
I looked down to see Adele standing on the lawn below. She smiled up at us, beautiful in her brand-new dress, her hair (so much thicker than mine) curled alongside the slender blue ribbons that tied over her shoulders to hold it up.
âWatch out for the spitting bugs, Monkey!â Adele called, but I was watching Liam. He was staring down at the curved, shadowy gap between the bodice of her dress and her creamy skin in such a way that, for the first time in my beloved tipuana tree, I experienced the nausea of vertigo. I tugged at my own sensible, high-necked T-shirt. I was pretty sure there were sweat stains in the pits. Monkey-girl.
âHi, Adele.â Liam grinned down at her, and my nausea grew.Holding my breath, I shuffled my way along the branch and started lowering myself to the one beneath.
âHey, whereâre you off to, Monks?â Liam said. âYouâre not going to leave me here by myself, are you?â
I turned to look back up at him, my chest softening with hope, but his eyes were not on me: they were riveted on my younger sister, who, although still in high school, was already more womanly than I would ever be.
I remember trying to graze away the hurt by pushing my fingers hard into the rough bark as I hurried to reach the ground, but I was biting back tears by the time my feet thumped into damp, bug-spitty grass.
When Liam and Adele officially started going out several months later, I told myself that it didnât matter. But every time I saw him with my sister, it was impossible to maintain the lie: I was in love with Liam Wilding and it was killing me.
CHAPTER SIX
BRYONY IS back on top of the wooden slatted dustbin cabin at the side of the house. The painted plaster of the wall between the Wildings and the Matsunyanes is chilly beneath her fingers as she grips onto it to look over. Lesedi is wearing the beads on her hair again, and sheâs not alone. There is another woman kneeling on the floor by the picture window with her back to the glass. The womanâs hair has been brushed out into a puffy African halo, and her rotund backside squashes out over a pair of callused bare feet that look as if theyâve walked miles carrying heavy loads. There is something familiar about those feet. Bryony squints harder, scrutinizing the black pleated skirt with little roses printed on it and the shiny black pumps placed side by side on the wooden floor, when, suddenly, the guest-woman turns her head.
Bryony gapes at the familiar profile. Itâs Dora! Even with her hair all puffed up instead of the sky-blue head scarf that she always wears when cleaning the Wilding home from Monday to Friday, Dora is unmistakable. Whatâs she doing at Lesediâs? Whyâs she all dressed up like sheâs going to church?
Bryony squirms. The unfairness burns like a thousand little ant bites on her skin. Her room has been colonized by the sleeping zombie, her parents are fighting, sheâs not Jewish, and now, to top it all off,
After three months, we still had not run out of things to say to each other, although sometimes the delicious torture of sitting beside Liam overwhelmed me, and I would go dry-mouthed and silent. He smelt like freshly mown grass clippings, and occasionally the fine golden hairs on his lean, tanned arm would brush against mine.
One afternoon, while we were making the most of the end-of-summer sun on the stoop, Liam challenged me to a climb up the old tipuana tree.
âYouâre on!â I said, and we both jumped up, jostling into each other and laughing like kids as we ran towards the tree, racing to be first to scramble up the trunk.
âIâd forgotten how much fun this is!â I yelped as I swung myself up onto a swaying branch, my hands stinging on the uneven bark.
âWow, youâre like a total monkey-girl,â Liam said, laughing. âI get the nickname now.â
âHey, guys, what on earth are you doing?â
I looked down to see Adele standing on the lawn below. She smiled up at us, beautiful in her brand-new dress, her hair (so much thicker than mine) curled alongside the slender blue ribbons that tied over her shoulders to hold it up.
âWatch out for the spitting bugs, Monkey!â Adele called, but I was watching Liam. He was staring down at the curved, shadowy gap between the bodice of her dress and her creamy skin in such a way that, for the first time in my beloved tipuana tree, I experienced the nausea of vertigo. I tugged at my own sensible, high-necked T-shirt. I was pretty sure there were sweat stains in the pits. Monkey-girl.
âHi, Adele.â Liam grinned down at her, and my nausea grew.Holding my breath, I shuffled my way along the branch and started lowering myself to the one beneath.
âHey, whereâre you off to, Monks?â Liam said. âYouâre not going to leave me here by myself, are you?â
I turned to look back up at him, my chest softening with hope, but his eyes were not on me: they were riveted on my younger sister, who, although still in high school, was already more womanly than I would ever be.
I remember trying to graze away the hurt by pushing my fingers hard into the rough bark as I hurried to reach the ground, but I was biting back tears by the time my feet thumped into damp, bug-spitty grass.
When Liam and Adele officially started going out several months later, I told myself that it didnât matter. But every time I saw him with my sister, it was impossible to maintain the lie: I was in love with Liam Wilding and it was killing me.
CHAPTER SIX
BRYONY IS back on top of the wooden slatted dustbin cabin at the side of the house. The painted plaster of the wall between the Wildings and the Matsunyanes is chilly beneath her fingers as she grips onto it to look over. Lesedi is wearing the beads on her hair again, and sheâs not alone. There is another woman kneeling on the floor by the picture window with her back to the glass. The womanâs hair has been brushed out into a puffy African halo, and her rotund backside squashes out over a pair of callused bare feet that look as if theyâve walked miles carrying heavy loads. There is something familiar about those feet. Bryony squints harder, scrutinizing the black pleated skirt with little roses printed on it and the shiny black pumps placed side by side on the wooden floor, when, suddenly, the guest-woman turns her head.
Bryony gapes at the familiar profile. Itâs Dora! Even with her hair all puffed up instead of the sky-blue head scarf that she always wears when cleaning the Wilding home from Monday to Friday, Dora is unmistakable. Whatâs she doing at Lesediâs? Whyâs she all dressed up like sheâs going to church?
Bryony squirms. The unfairness burns like a thousand little ant bites on her skin. Her room has been colonized by the sleeping zombie, her parents are fighting, sheâs not Jewish, and now, to top it all off,
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