Exiled (A Madame X Novel) by Jasinda Wilder

Author:Jasinda Wilder [Wilder, Jasinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-08-01T18:00:00+00:00

* * *

The sun is hot, blazing hot. Baking my shoulders and the top of my head. My feet are cool, though. The waves crash and wash up over my feet and calves, licking up to my knees. I am sitting in the dark brown wet sand at the water’s edge, digging a hole. Digging, digging, digging. It’s futile, of course. The ocean rushes up and over me, into the hole, filling it and caving in the edges, smoothing away the hole so there’s barely even a divot remaining. And then I dig, dig, dig all over again, watch the hole vanish as if by magic. Behind me, a sand castle sits half ruined, partially obliterated by my own feet, after an hour of careful, painstaking construction. I was a giant, of course, and the castle was full of nasty little mortals. They had to be crushed, of course. I am hot enough to consider going in the water now. It will be cold, and the salt will sting my eyes and crust my skin when I get out, but it’s worth it to cool off.

Behind me, I hear a giggle. It’s a low, soft sound. Happy, delighted, amused. Mama. I stand up, brushing sand off my butt and hands. Turn, watch Mama and Papa. She is lying on her back. She is lovely, so elegant. Sexy. I learned this word at school recently, and I think my mama is sexy. Her bathing suit is rather small. I would never wear anything like that, I would be too afraid of people seeing me in my underwear. That’s all it really is, Mama’s bikini. She looks like a supermodel, I think. Her hair is loose, because it’s always loose unless she’s washing dishes. It’s so long it comes down to nearly her bottom, and it’s black as a crow’s wing. Straight, thick, glossy. Her tummy is flat, but her boobies are big, and so is her butt. I’ve heard kids talking at school, and that’s how women are supposed to look, they say. I wonder if I will look that way? Probably not. I’ll never be as beautiful as Mama.

She’s laughing because Papa is kissing her. She’s lying on the big blanket Abuela made by knitting. Or crocheting? I don’t know. She made it before I was born, and we always bring it to the beach with us. Mama is on her back, one knee up, the other leg straight out on the blanket. Papa is lying almost totally on top of her, like I saw them doing that one time by accident, only this time they have their clothes on. He’s kissing her, all over. All over. Her mouth, her neck, her shoulders. She’s laughing and laughing, telling him to stop, but not really. She doesn’t actually want him to stop, I can tell, so I’m not sure why she’s saying so. She’s slapping his shoulder with one hand, but her other hand is in his hair. Adults are confusing. She tells him people are watching, that I’m watching.

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