Out of Breath

Chapter 6

I wait for Desdemona at the pond. She will be here soon. I finally trust her, maybe. Sometimes I even forget how ghoulish she looks. She always lets me fish with her slumps. When they run out, we talk. Well, actually, I do most of the talking. She asks lots of questions and seems interested in everything I say. She won't divulge much about herself. Whenever I ask questions, she gives short, precise answers then turns the conversation elsewhere.

"Hi, friend," she says.

I smile as I look up. She sits next to me and puts her hand on my knee like she always does. Why does she do it? I don't know, but it doesn't disturb me as much anymore. My pants have large holes in both knees. All the kids around here have worn-out clothes, but not at school. We are intermixed into a wealthy district. It is easy to see the distinct difference between the swamp kids, and the rest of the population. Those other kids do everything they can to shame us. I grab the torn fabric on my knee and try to bring the edges together. I used to not care how I looked, but as I get older, I am embarrassed more. I guess my jeans look better than Desdemona's rags.

"Don't be mad at me," she says. "But, I am out of slumps."

My heart sinks. I never imagined she would run out of slumps. "That's okay," I say a little more dejected than I had meant to be. Subconsciously, I rub my hand on my freckles. I have a few, but not like Marty from school. His whole arm is covered in freckles.

I guess it's okay she has no more slumps. I had caught so many fish that we no longer have room in our freezer for them. I keep giving them to the Bumpuses. They love it, because there are so many of them, they can eat all my catch in one day. Desdemona winks. She acts like she has a secret.

"What?" I ask.

"I have some cool bait, but not here with me."

"Your slumps are cool bait."

"Cooler. Maybe I can bring them tomorrow."

Did she really use a word like cool? Maybe she has learned it from me. Who knows?

I have no bait to fish with right now. I stopped bringing bait when she brought me slumps. "Well, I guess I can't fish today. I might just head home." How disappointing.

"Do you want to come to my house?" she asks.

My heart speeds up while my mouth goes dry. What a scary thought. –The house of a witch!

"Don't be scared."

I hate how she reads my thoughts.

"My family aren't brain eaters. We won't eat your brain."

I nervously chuckle. What if this whole time she has been baiting me, only to bring me to her home to kill me?

My lungs tighten. I take a puff of my inhaler. I could sure use a Boost.

I want to say no, but curiosity wins, and besides, imagine the bragging rights I will have when I tell everyone I have been to the Skitler's cottage. Against all my senses, I agree to go with her.

I walk slower than I usually do, dragging my feet and stopping to pick up any shell I see. I want to see her cottage, but I don't. I have snuck to the premises of her property enough, but people leave the Skitlers alone. I realize I have never asked her about her family. Does she have siblings? Does she have a pa? Suddenly, I don't' care. I want to turn and run as apprehension takes over. She is terrifying enough. I can't imagine a cottage full of Skitlers. What am I doing going home with her?

Our path is sandy and shelly. It shows that many feet have traveled here since nothing grows on the path. A bit of the sand sneaks into my socks. I stop and pull off my shoe and shake the sand out. The sand doesn't bother me too much; really, I am stalling.