Blameless

CHAPTER 1 "Oh my God," she cried. "Oh my God," with heaving, gasping, snot-filled sobs. "It's all right, Sharon." I pulled my visor down low over my face. People up and down the beach were looking at us. "It has a happy ending." "Oh Jesus!" Two tears raced one another down her cheeks. "What's the matter with her?" asked a voice by my left shoulder. I lifted my visor and looked up. Julianna stood over me dripping lake water all over my towel and staring at Sharon who continued weeping into her hands. "Hey Juli-Wuli," I said. "How's it going?" "Going all right." Julianna's eyes were pale hazel to the point of yellow, and tilted up at the comers. She wore a ragged old fishing hat with a white band around it that she'd found earlier in the summer and hadn't taken off since. She was twelve years old on that Sunday afternoon in August and, like all girls before puberty erupts, she seemed indestructible. "Is she sick?" she asked, still watching Sharon. "She's reading," I answered. "Wow." Julianna turned on her heels in the sand and scuttled back to her grandma twenty feet away. Nana was large and soft with a grandmotherly braid wrapped around the crown of her head. Her swimsuit was modest with a pleated skirt sewn in. Upper arms swayed when she handed Julianna her plastic bottle of Seven-Up. I wanted to be pressed to that bosom, enfolded in the old-woman smell of Jean Nate or Lemon Verbena. I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my arms. Sniffles continued on my right. "You okay, Sharon?" "No," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I'm not okay." I handed her a mini-pack of Kleenex out of my bag. The sun was relentless. My skin was tightening like a baked chicken. "Come on," I told her. "Let's get in the water." "Let me finish the chapter," she said, blowing her nose. It was Middlemarch, the scene where Dorothea goes to her rival Mrs. Lydgate and reassures her as to Will's affections. I made a mental note to buy more Kleenex. Sharon had insisted that an afternoon at the beach would be just the thing to cheer me up, take my mind off the upcoming trial. I lay on my stomach, chin in my hand, and gazed at the prickly woods beyond the edge of the beach. The leaves on the trees were nibbled and torn, the squirrels nicked and ragged from playing too rough, flowers had had their nectar sucked dry by the hungry bees. God, I hated these dead August afternoons. When Sharon closed the book we headed for the water. "You coming in?" I called to Julianna. "Nah," she hollered back. Now she and her mother were playing badminton while Nana dozed. They played without a net, just hitting the birdie back and forth, counting to see how many volleys they could make before it hit the ground. Her mother was younger than me. She nodded to me the way you do to someone you only know by sight. A tanned little boy ran past, leaving a trail of Cheese Doodles from the Snack Bar farther up the beach. They sold hamburgers, hot dogs, even nachos. When I was a kid they had licorice chains, candy cigarettes, and wax lips in the glass counter at kid-eye level. My favorite was the giant diamond ring made of solid Sweet-Tart. To this day I gnaw on my index knuckle when I'm tired or anxious, almost tasting the sugar that melted pink or blue or green on my numbed tongue. Sharon and I walked down to the water and waded in. The lake was warm at my ankles, chilly at my knees, freezing at my thighs. I dove into the water, my skin shrieking and gasping with the shock. My head came up and I breathed in the hot sunshine. Sharon bobbed up about ten feet back. She was not a strong swimmer. I took first place at the State SwiReardon, Lisa is the author of 'Blameless' with ISBN 9780375504051 and ISBN 0375504052.