Shine - Lauren Myracle [98]
“One,” Beef said.
“Never mind, I don’t wanna,” Robert said, trying to worm past Beef again.
My limbs weren’t working, but I had to make them work. I stepped backward, since what was true for Robert was just as true for me. Without a running start, I’d have no chance.
“Two,” Beef said, drawing it out.
Robert, his back to the water, started to cry.
“Oh, the little baby’s crying,” Beef said. “You’re just a poor little baby, ain’t you?”
“And you’re a”—Robert was struggling to get the words out, he was gasping and sniveling so much—“just a fucking fraidycat faggot!”
Oh shit, I said to myself. I saw Beef’s triceps flex as he gripped Robert’s scrawny shoulders, and I ran.
“Cat, no!” I heard my brother call as I charged across the overhang. He must have come around the swimming hole and hiked to where we were from the other side. He was close, from the sound of it, but not close enough.
Beef released Robert with the slightest push—a baby bird thrust from the nest—and time spun away. Robert grabbed for Beef, but Beef stepped nimbly to the side. And then . . . And then I was in the air, launching myself at Robert’s torso before I knew I was doing it. I flung myself around him, propelling us as hard and as far as I could.
Limbs flailed. My shin scraped stone, and the pain was like fire. Eons later, we smacked the cold water, and it slapped the breath out of me. We went down. Down and down, and scrawny Robert grasped and twined around me like the laurel tree branches on the bank, the twisted lovers. I shoved at his warm flesh. It made him cling harder. His face in the murky water was the face of a river fairy. The bad kind of fairy, not the fairies I made gardens for once upon a time. Robert had bulging eyes, and he wanted to pull me down and keep me down, forever.
My vision blurred, and I felt my lungs bursting.
My feet touched bottom. They sank into cool, wet river mud. I bent my legs, and with my strong thighs, I shoved us up. The water grew lighter. Sun glinted on the surface, and we burst through, gasping and coughing. Snot dribbled from Robert’s nose. He was a baby clinging to my chest, but I fought the weight of him and got us to the log.
“Let go now,” I told him. He wouldn’t. “Let go, Robert.” I pried his arms off me. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He threw himself over the log, arms stretched long and cheek pressed to the bark, and he let himself sob.
I sobbed, too. I couldn’t believe we’d done it. I’d done it. I’d propelled us over the death ledge below.
Six inches away, the water jumped. I jerked my head reflexively. What the . . . ? There was another spray of water, and almost simultaneously, the sound of the first shot registered. Still, my brain couldn’t process it. Was Beef . . . was Beef shooting at us?
I looked up and saw Beef standing at the edge of Suicide Rock. His feet were planted wide, his arms rigidly extended. His face wasn’t his own.
He aimed his Colt, and my senses shot into overdrive.
“Robert, get down,” I cried, tugging to get him off the log. He blinked, not making sense of what was happening. I threw myself at him and pulled us both underwater, fishtailing my legs to get us deeper. Robert struggled. His face was green, with seaweed hair—my hair—twining around him.
He fought free, bursting back above the surface and coughing out water. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I could see Beef. Robert couldn’t. Behind Beef, I saw Christian wrestling to get the gun. He was arguing with him, and his voice seemed to alternate from loud to not loud as it bounced off the rock. Beef shrugged Christian off, his eyes fixed on me and Robert. His mind was no doubt racing overtime with meth and rage and a single-minded compulsion to shut us up for good. He probably thought he could deal with Christian later, if he thought about it at all.
A bullet kicked up the water right behind Robert’s shoulder. He turned at the splash, and once again I shoved him under, which was why I, and only I, saw Christian grab Beef by the shoulder and spin him around, so that Beef’s back was toward the water. Christian