Read Online The Voice inside My Head by S.J. Laidlaw - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S.J. Laidlaw
Ads: Link
look down the path to the dock and notice for the first time that the Shark Center boat is out. It must have left while I was in the shower. The sun looks hot on the dock, but it might dry my clothes faster. I can’t go anywhere till I have something to wear.
“Thanks,” I say. “Will you tell your brother I need to speak to him?”
“He knows that.” She smirks. “You told him yourself last night when you were … busy.”
I blink. “Right, well, see ya.” I stomp past her down to the dock and walk straight to the end.
The water beneath me looks about ten feet deep but could be deeper. The ocean’s so clear, it’s like looking into yourbathtub, if you had creepy coral heads and bizarre fish in your tub. Near the shore it’s pale blue; then, about thirty feet out, it gets darker all of a sudden. The coral’s still visible, but it’s shadowy, like monsters lurking under the bed. If a shark attacked in this water, you’d see it coming long before it bit you. You’d still be dead, but it’d be quite the sight.
The wind is strong and I can’t feel the pricks of sand flies anymore, so I lay out my clothes and settle down to enjoy a few moments of relief. There are at least fifty docks, some only a few feet apart, jutting out from one end of the town to the other in a curve around a natural harbor. There’s constant coming and going, mostly fishing and dive boats leaving and narrow rickety dories arriving, a few loaded with people but most with a single boatman. Like the buildings in town, most of these boats have peeling paint and chunks out of them. They don’t look very seaworthy, but the grizzled captains handle them with relaxed confidence.
I hang my legs over the edge of the dock and watch a steady parade of fish swim underneath. The colors and shapes are amazing. My sister had some unusual fish in her aquariums but nothing like this. There’s a couple I’ve only seen in books — big boxy things, with elaborate spots and patches. I pull my feet up fast as a huge dark shape approaches from the deep. It’s about five feet wide and quite a bit longer, with winglike fins that undulate slowly. My heart speeds up as it glides beneath me, turns under the dock and swims out again. It’s the first time I’ve seen an eagle ray in the flesh.
P AT:
The spots look like constellations in the night sky
.
M E:
You know those things leap into boats and kill people
.
P AT:
Freak events. How often does that happen?
M E:
Do you want the national stats or worldwide?
P AT:
You used to love sea life as much as I did. We watched
National Geographic
specials together. You read almost every book I did
.
M E:
That’s the difference between you and me, Pat. Just because I read about a dangerous activity doesn’t mean I want to try it. You act like nothing’s ever going to hurt you. I would have thought living with a depressed alcoholic mother would have given you a more realistic perspective
.
P AT:
Is that what it gave you, Luke? Or are you just a coward drowning your fears in booze and drugs?
M E:
“What’re you doing out here all by yourself?”
I look up in surprise to see Reesie looming over me.
“I’m drying my clothes.” I prepare to be told off again, even though it was her idea I come out here. If I’m breaking some kind of moral code sitting here in nothing but a towel, she should have thought of that earlier. Not to mention the fact that Tracy didn’t have a bikini line. What does that tell you about the local dress code? I may not bring that example up, though.
She doesn’t say anything, just plops down beside me and joins my fish-watching. She’s probably trying to get my guard down before launching another attack.
“That’s not what I meant.” She takes off her sandals, swinging her bare feet over the water. “What are you doing here in Utila?”
“We’ve had this conversation. I’m looking for my sister, remember?”
“No.” She turns to me and doesn’t continue
“Thanks,” I say. “Will you tell your brother I need to speak to him?”
“He knows that.” She smirks. “You told him yourself last night when you were … busy.”
I blink. “Right, well, see ya.” I stomp past her down to the dock and walk straight to the end.
The water beneath me looks about ten feet deep but could be deeper. The ocean’s so clear, it’s like looking into yourbathtub, if you had creepy coral heads and bizarre fish in your tub. Near the shore it’s pale blue; then, about thirty feet out, it gets darker all of a sudden. The coral’s still visible, but it’s shadowy, like monsters lurking under the bed. If a shark attacked in this water, you’d see it coming long before it bit you. You’d still be dead, but it’d be quite the sight.
The wind is strong and I can’t feel the pricks of sand flies anymore, so I lay out my clothes and settle down to enjoy a few moments of relief. There are at least fifty docks, some only a few feet apart, jutting out from one end of the town to the other in a curve around a natural harbor. There’s constant coming and going, mostly fishing and dive boats leaving and narrow rickety dories arriving, a few loaded with people but most with a single boatman. Like the buildings in town, most of these boats have peeling paint and chunks out of them. They don’t look very seaworthy, but the grizzled captains handle them with relaxed confidence.
I hang my legs over the edge of the dock and watch a steady parade of fish swim underneath. The colors and shapes are amazing. My sister had some unusual fish in her aquariums but nothing like this. There’s a couple I’ve only seen in books — big boxy things, with elaborate spots and patches. I pull my feet up fast as a huge dark shape approaches from the deep. It’s about five feet wide and quite a bit longer, with winglike fins that undulate slowly. My heart speeds up as it glides beneath me, turns under the dock and swims out again. It’s the first time I’ve seen an eagle ray in the flesh.
P AT:
The spots look like constellations in the night sky
.
M E:
You know those things leap into boats and kill people
.
P AT:
Freak events. How often does that happen?
M E:
Do you want the national stats or worldwide?
P AT:
You used to love sea life as much as I did. We watched
National Geographic
specials together. You read almost every book I did
.
M E:
That’s the difference between you and me, Pat. Just because I read about a dangerous activity doesn’t mean I want to try it. You act like nothing’s ever going to hurt you. I would have thought living with a depressed alcoholic mother would have given you a more realistic perspective
.
P AT:
Is that what it gave you, Luke? Or are you just a coward drowning your fears in booze and drugs?
M E:
“What’re you doing out here all by yourself?”
I look up in surprise to see Reesie looming over me.
“I’m drying my clothes.” I prepare to be told off again, even though it was her idea I come out here. If I’m breaking some kind of moral code sitting here in nothing but a towel, she should have thought of that earlier. Not to mention the fact that Tracy didn’t have a bikini line. What does that tell you about the local dress code? I may not bring that example up, though.
She doesn’t say anything, just plops down beside me and joins my fish-watching. She’s probably trying to get my guard down before launching another attack.
“That’s not what I meant.” She takes off her sandals, swinging her bare feet over the water. “What are you doing here in Utila?”
“We’ve had this conversation. I’m looking for my sister, remember?”
“No.” She turns to me and doesn’t continue
Similar Books
