The Missing Sister by Marr Elle

Author:Marr, Elle
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542006057
Published: 2020-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Ready for your burial, Moon?

My toes still poked through mounds of sand. The coolness of the lapping waves rushing my ankles was refreshing, although it made Angela’s job harder; each time she succeeded in covering my toes, water would rise and wash away her progress.

We were ten years old, sprawled across the bumpy sand along the water of our inlet. The sun bore down harder than usual, but a breeze kept things bearable, dancing across the skin exposed by my one-piece swimsuit. Angela started pouring sand on me with her toes—finger toes, she called them. The better to grab you with. It turned into a game: I’d lie still while Angela covered me with as much sand as her finger-toes could grab in one footful. The sand kept spilling off, creating triangles along my body. Angela suggested she could use one hand and one foot to make it go faster, to build on the triangles, and I conceded.

Clear blue reigned above us, with only one airplane toting a banner passing by in the ten minutes that followed. The sound of wind chimes carried from somewhere close. Sunshine bathed my face, a delicious contrast to the cool sand cascading down my legs. It was a relaxing summer day—until suddenly it wasn’t. Tiny stinging rocks woke me. They were attacking my cheeks, my eyes, my mouth. I tried to open my eyes, but the constant stream of sand made it impossible. I moved to shield my face from the sand, but my arms were pinned. Panicked, I screamed and kicked, fueled by sudden terror, and succeeded in rolling onto my stomach. I threw off a mountain of silt and a driftwood log. Angela stood over me with a soda can and plastic pail filled with sand. Horror drew her face long. “I’m so sorry, Moon. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry,” she repeated, over and over again, gulping sobs stifling her words until she lay down beside me. I stayed on my hands and knees and threw up a mouthful of sand. Apart from the thousands of grains of beach stuck in my hair and my irritated eyes, I was okay. Okay but confused. Scared, when I remembered Angela had been angry with me that morning for playing with her doll, the designer one I loved. Her retribution, delivered. We ended our visit to the beach earlier than usual that day, but not before she swore up and down she would never do anything to hurt me. That I was her best friend and the most important person in the world to her. Even as our mother separated me from Angela for days afterward, until it was safe to play together again.

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