Good point.
"Waste of time," Ben said. "You'll never be able to read it. The lettering's too far gone." He checked his watch. "We should head out. I found the way back."
"We found it." Shelton shrugged and tossed the tag.
The boys moved off.
I stared at Y-7's prize resting in the leaves.
Why not try to clean it? It's not that different from a seashell.
The tag held someone's name. Not trying to decipher it? Crazy. I scooped it up and hurried after the others.
Man.
If I hadn't done that, everything would have been different. Everything.
That whim changed my life.
Opened the door for what came.
Paved my path to monsterhood.
CHAPTER 9
At home, disaster lurked.
Terror. Horror.
Her.
The conversation was always the same. Bombast. Then reproach. Followed by thoughtlessness. Always draped in tones as syrupy as molasses.
And she was off and running.
"Why, Tory, look at you! You're gettin' to be so lovely! Angel eyes!"
Oh God.
"But, dear thing, why not a sundress? Girl as pretty as you shouldn't slum around in T-shirts and shorts."
Stop.
"I cannot wait to take you for a proper haircut. My girl Da'Nae will know exactly what to do with that tangle."
Kill me. Kill me now.
Dinner plans had taken a dreadful turn. Kit's "lady friend" had been added to the guest list. I was not consulted, perhaps because my feelings on the issue of Whitney are clear.
I stared full bore at Kit. He kept his eyes on his plate.
Thanks for the heads-up, jerk.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Whitney Rose Dubois.
"Have you thought about what I said last time, sugar?" Whitney feigned nonchalance. Failed.
"Yes, Whitney, I did." I tried to be diplomatic. "I don't think it's me."
"Not you?" Mascara-laden lashes fluttered. Bleached hair swished. "Not you!" A manicured hand fluttered to rest on jacked-up boobs. "But of course it's you!" Saucer eyes conveyed total lack of understanding.
Swing and a miss. How to put this delicately?
"The whole idea is ridiculous. Stupid."
There. Oprah would be proud.
"Tory!" Kit said. "That's enough."
I resisted an impulse to sigh theatrically. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm just not into the whole 'deb' thing."
For a month, Whitney had worked to convince me to make my debut as a lady. I had zero interest. White dresses. Satin gloves. Being displayed like cattle. No thanks. I'm just not that into you.
My mind raced to find a new topic. Blanked.
"But sweet pea, you'll soon turn sixteen. You simply must be introduced to society." Whitney trained her baby blues on Kit. This was clearly the most obvious thing in the world.
"I'll meet society later."
"Nonsense! And Tory, darlin', I'm your lucky day!" Looking pleased with herself, Whitney placed her hand on Kit's. Gross. "Now, we only have six months left in this season, but I happen to have considerable influence on the committee. You're a shoo-in to be selected." The woman positively beamed.
"Tory, Whitney's offering you a special opportunity." Kit, trying to smooth the waters. "You could use a little branching out. These are the nicest families in Charleston."
I felt a twinge of sympathy for the old man. This wasn't his idea, and he worried about my level of "girl time."
Nevertheless, I crushed the feeling like a bug. Eating with Whitney only reminded me that Mom was gone forever. She had no right to play at being my mother. Out of bounds.
"I go to school with those girls, Kit. They aren't that nice."
"But I can help with that!" Whitney looked so eager it was painful. "I know all the etiquette. I can teach you the dances. I'll find lovely dresses for you to wear." She leaned close. "I'll coach you the whole way."
Scramble. Change subject.
"Kit, uh . . . how's the turtle?"
He blinked. "The what? Oh! The turtle that took on a propeller. It's fine, just a scrape. Those shells are tough."
Kit downed a forkful of Whitney's lasagna. Which, admittedly, was excellent.
Grrr.
"Sea turtles are such beautiful creatures." I encouraged the current line of conversation. Kit took the bait.
"Yes. Boaters really must be more careful. But the pilot thought enough to bring the animal to us, so he's not a bad sort. Surgery took about an hour, and . . . " He stopped. Pointed with his fork. "Wait. Who told you about the turtle?"
Shoot.
"Who told me?" I stammered.
"How did you find out about the injured sea turtle?" Kit spoke slowly, as though addressing a toddler.
"We sort of motored out to Loggerhead this afternoon. Coop has been missing, and I wanted to figure out what's upsetting the pack, so--"
"Stop. Who is 'we'?"
"Just me and the usual guys. Hi, Ben, and Shelton."
A sharp tsk from Whitney. She had strong feelings about my being with boys unescorted. Puh-leeze.
"I didn't see you," Kit said.
"We went straight to Dead Cat. No big deal." Here goes. "We did chat with Dr. Karsten for a few minutes."