Read Online Mayday by Jonathan Friesen - Free Book Online Page B

beginning, she was my protector. I never witnessed this until I came as Shane, but I always felt it to be true. She wouldn’t let anybody near me. I loved her so.
    Dove poked her head out the door. “Come on in, Basil, Shane. Don’t make too much noise.”
    We followed her into the trailer. Inside, it was dark, not a light on, and we stumbled toward the back bedroom.
    â€œCrow?” Basil called. “It’s me. You back here?”
    â€œYeah, I want to see Shane.”
    Crow’s outline sat on the bed cross-legged. I pushed in front of Basil, toward the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol, and sat on the foot of the bed.
    â€œGood to see ya, Shane, you little witch.”
    â€œKeep talking,” I said.
    There was silence here, and finally I turned to Basil. “You can go.”
    Basil shifted. “It’s my mom’s place. I’ve known Crow a lot longer than—”
    â€œYou can go, Basil.” Crow said quietly.
    He tongued his cheek and backed out. “Yeah, right. I’ll be with Mom if you need me.”
    Our shadows looked at each other for five minutes. “So, how are you getting along? Do you need anything?” I asked.
    â€œWhy didn’t you let me kill her?”
    Kill her? Oh, Jasmine.
    â€œI appreciate how enjoyable that would have been for you, but I’m telling you that in the long run, murder’s more a negative than a positive.”
    Her voice quieted. “Maybe. What time is it?”
    â€œSix or so.”
    â€œI need to get home.”
    â€œI know.” I shifted on the bed. “Why’d you do it? Why push Jasmine through?”
    Crow gave a heavy sigh. “She called me a psycho bitch, and I held it together. But then she called you one, too.”
    â€œThere was no more?” I asked. “That’s it?”
    She hung her head. “Nobody says anything about my sister, real or you.”
    I scooted up next to Crow. “I’m gonna turn on the lamp. Close your eyes.”
    Click.
    â€œHoly . . .”
    Crow’s skin was ashen, her cheeks drawn. She sat amid beer cans and cigarette boxes and books. She winced and slowly opened her eyelids. Crow had no whites, only reds.
    I reached over and hugged her, felt her collapse against my side.
    â€œShane, Jasmine said your name, but inside I heard Adele’s. I looked at her face, but I saw Jude’s. I couldn’t help it. I lost it.”
    I know. You’ll always protect Adele.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    It was my first memory and, oddly, one of my most potent.
    A Dad memory. It should have been precious.
    Mom worked late at the library, while the two of us struggled to get Adele into bed. A number of obstacles stood in the way, the largest being “the tub”: a soapy, drippy experience that left all three of us soaked.
    â€œRun the water, Coraline.” Dad frowned at Adele’s diaper. “I’ll go to work on the back end.”
    I jumped to the tub and soon had it filled with foam. “Ready, Daddy!”
    He nodded. “Okay, here we go. One. Two . . .” He yanked off the diaper. “Three!” He hoisted her off the counter and plunged her deep into the water.
    For a second all was quiet.
    Then little Addy wailed.
    â€œIt’s all right, darlin’. Just a bath.”
    She arched her back and screamed. Dad repositioned her and swore. “That water is scalding hot!” He drew Addy out, her skin mottled and red, and wrapped her loosely in a towel. “To the car, Coraline! We need to take her in.”
    I remember little about that urgent-care visit, except for the fish tank. I plastered my face against the glass and cried.
    Addy’s skin eventually returned to a proper shade, so the episode turned out well.
    Until Mom came home, heard the story, and flew into a rage. Dad slept on the couch that night. I know, because I snuggled with him.
    â€œI can’t do this,