Sliding On The Edge by C. Lee McKenzie Page B

every topic in
the world.
    I caught some kind of bug—probably
from that fan whipping air down on my head all night—so I’ve
already missed the first week of school. But tomorrow Kay and I
have an appointment with the school principal. I considered begging
off and playing like I’m still sick, but Kay has a nose for liars
that would land her a security job at the Casino Royale.
    I close the book on Mr.
Twain’s advice and turn out the light. Round as one of those old
Vegas dollars, the moon hangs above the trees. It spreads silver
across the floor and the end of the bed. If I melted all the money
Mom dropped in the casinos, it might look just like this. The fan
drones overhead; it sounds like a tired helicopter. Frap. Frap. Frap . I bury
my head under the pillow.
    “ Damn.” I reach up and turn
the fan off. I’d rather roast than hear it droning
overhead.
    A coyote howl travels from a corner of
the ranch, across the pasture, past the barn, and through my
window. It’s a lonely sound that catches me in the stomach. My
memories are stored right there, behind my belly button, just under
the skin, instead of in my brain, like where normal people have
them.
    Sometimes they gather up and push
hard, like they want out. I’d pierce my belly button in a sec just
to shake the total dork image, but what happens if those memories
ooze out?
    Stop it. Don’t think so
much. That always gets you in trouble.
    I bury my head under my pillow. That
used to work when I was a kid and alone, waiting for Mom to come
home. Waiting. That was hard sometimes, and scary.
    Don’t be a wimp. Lock the
door and don’t open it. I’ll be back by three . She always sounded impatient , like I was being
stupid.
    The high and lonely howl comes again,
only from another direction and closer. Another coyote. I picture
two lonely creatures out there, circling, looking.
    Oh, no. I’m getting the
shakes, and . . . I don’t believe it. Monster’s here. So he did
come with me to Sweet River. The sirens in Vegas used to wake him
up. Now it’s coyotes howling in the night. City. Country. He’s
everywhere.
    It’s him, all right. Dark
and shadowy.
    I open the nightstand drawer and for a
moment hold the plastic bottle filled with Mom’s sleeping pills.
Then I pull out the slim toilet paper bundle, unroll the razor
blade, and hold it out to him in my palm.
    “ See?” I whisper to him.
“It’s right here.”
    He creeps out and sits hunched at the
foot of the bed.
    I take the blade between my thumb and
first finger—no easy trick when the shakes come over me.
    I already know how it’s going to feel.
How it’s going to open old scars from other times—those crooked
lines that turn to scabs and pucker the skin under my ankle bone.
But I know once the blade slides inside me, I don’t hurt, I don’t
think, I don’t shake anymore. For one delicious moment, I’m not
afraid of Monster or anybody else.
    I have a half inch red
streak and a tiny trickle of blood that I blot with the toilet
paper. Monster’s slipping away, over the edge of the bed. He’ll be
gone in another second. My hands are steady now, so it’s easy to
wrap the blade and tuck it into the drawer. By the time I turn back
he’s gone, and the coyotes now are silent. Without the frap, frap of the fan,
there isn’t any sound.
    Now I can finally sleep. The memories
will be good. They will be about sweet ice cream on a spoon, and me
laughing.
    The knock at the door sends my heart
to my toes. I’m beginning to think about the downside of
doors.
    “ Shawna, are you
awake?”
    It’s Kay.

Chapter 14
    Kay
     
    Kay worked in her office almost every
night after dinner. And now that the house was filled with Shawna,
her smells, her sounds, but mostly her anger, Kay clung to the
certainty of numbers to help focus on something other than Shawna’s
explosive, unpredictable nature.
    Tonight the numbers weren’t
as certain as she’d like. This darned
checkbook won’t balance , she thought.