Outcast (Adrienne Kress) by Adrienne Kress

Author:Adrienne Kress
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction / Paranormal
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-06-02T07:00:00+00:00

25.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in the swamplands. I’d driven through them a lot, to get to other places. But turning off the main road, going deep into the bayou where the air was as thick as the plant life, I hadn’t done that since I was kid.

The only way to get there was to take that one long winding road. It pulled you in, sucked you in, like stepping into warm wet mud. You might try to pull away, but that makes it hold you even faster. The trees here dripped with Spanish moss above and all around you. If the muggy air didn’t make you feel claustrophobic, the trees certainly would.

I’d borrowed the car the second I got home from school, and, now driving along with the sun low, I realized that finding Gabe’s place might be a little trickier than I thought. What’s more it occurred to me, as I slowed down, trying to scan for houses, that I had no idea where I was going or what I was looking for. Well, obviously it would be something house-like. It wasn’t like it was going to be a bucket affected by our power.IidDJor anything.

The swamplands were pretty under-populated, and homes were usually well hidden off the main road, which by this point was little more than a thin lane with vegetation seeping its way onto it, so I had to drive pretty slowly and look through the trees for a glimpse of life. When I did pass the rare homes, they were obviously lived in, with trucks parked on the lawn, or fresh gardens, or somebody sitting on the front porch. I was starting to think that maybe I’d gone wrong somewhere, or that worse, maybe I’d been wrong in my conclusion, when I saw the bike in the distance. I slowed the car down to turn in beside it.

I pulled onto the overgrown patch of land next to the bike. There was just enough space for a car. I climbed out and instantly felt uncomfortable. For someone growing up in this part of the world, you think I’d be okay with bugs. And I am, sort of. I can handle mosquitoes, even though they’re annoying. Little spiders are okay too. I guess my problem was with big bugs, juicy bugs, bugs that when you squashed them made a crunch sound, bugs with intentions, motivations and philosophies. Those bugs I could do without.

There were a lot of those bugs in the swamplands. Wetlands. Lowlands. Bayou. I never knew what to call it. Teachers always referred to that area as different things. Basically we have a lot of swamp down here. Makes it hard to build up anything, so the people in this part of the community have homes on patches of land surrounded by water, like the little house I was now standing in front of.

It wasn’t a shack. But it wasn’t much more than that. One floor, two windows in the front, paint almost entirely stripped from the walls because of the humidity, totally overgrown.

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