Skin Walkers

Chapter Four

            I sit for a long time by the creek, looking through my pictures. Most are landscapes: sides of the mountains, the trees, some of the lake, and the sky and clouds. I have a few of myself. I just liked the way my shadow cast against the rock, or the way a person looks, overlooking scenery from atop a great ledge. Of course, I’m nude in all of them so I don’t share with anyone, but maybe someday I’ll find the courage to do something with them.

            When the sun finally starts to set, I make my way home. Cleveland will be awake by now and probably gone for the night, but Mom’s still working, so maybe I’ll order something for dinner. Or take Cleveland’s beater for something in town if he doesn’t have it.

            I love the nighttime bugs. They chatter and click amongst themselves, calling out to each other and quickly shut up, awaiting a response. As I come closer to the house, I see lights on downstairs. Either Cleveland has friends over, he forgot to shut the lights off when he left, or Mom’s home.

            Before I can get a good look at anything, a voice whispers to me from across the yard.

            “Hey, Tuesday.”

            Through the dim I make out a small figure. It’s Skye. She motions me to come to her.

            I walk through the thick grass to where she stands.

            “What’s going on?” I ask. It’s weird for her to visit me. We aren’t exactly close anymore.

            “Just stopped by for a visit. Vivian let me in. Want one?” She holds out a pack of cigarettes.

            Not sure where this is going, I shake my head. “Why are you out here?”

            She shrugs. “I knew you were out for a run or something.” I can make out a smile. “It’s been a while since just you and me talked.”

            Neither one of us are much for talking to begin with, so I just nod. “Yeah.”

            She takes a drag, and her face faintly glows orange. “I didn’t know you still took pictures.”

            “Yeah, I don’t get to too often, so…” I trail off, nodding and glancing down at the camera.

            “Remember when you first got here, and Chris would take our pictures all the time?” She giggles, and I feel like my dad’s name is some long-forgotten word that I’m hearing for the first time. “We’d be riding bikes—oh, you know how I sucked so bad—and when I would fall he’d be like, ‘Wait! Don’t move! Let me get the camera.’” She laughs, and I find myself grinning at the memory.

            “We had so much fun, me and you,” she continues. “When Antoinette wasn’t around to ruin it by starting shit.”

            “She was an annoying brat, wasn’t she?” I laugh, then add, “She still is.”

            She giggles again, nodding. “She has her moments, though. I just think she was always jealous of you.”

            I roll my eyes. “Why?”

            “You always had the best stuff. Cleveland had those drums that we’d sneak playing when he was at practice, remember? And Vi had her makeup that she always let us play with because neither one of our moms would.” She cracks up. “We’d always look like fucking clowns when we went home.”

            I laugh, probably louder than I should have. “Remember how hot we thought we looked? We’d stand in front of the mirror, posing and shit.”