At the Bottom of the Bay

Chapter Eleven

Sofia wasn't addicted to Kelsey McQuarrie.

Kelsey wasn't a drug; she was just a girl. Sofia could get more relief from a blunt than from the four-eyed little freak.

Sofia spent too much of the afternoon watching the search party on the water. Around the time Bosco reappeared and waved to her in the window, she decided she needed a break.

She dug out her old gym sneakers, the left ripped on the inside to expose the arch of her foot, but that was all she had. She walked to the 7-11, unsurprised to find that side of town quiet and empty. Kenny started his shift at eight, so she waited outside, taking out cash at the ATM with her old debit card, surprised she remembered the pin, smoking and cursing the pack she'd lost to the waves, then feeling bad for caring. A kid was out there, and she didn't have any hope that he would be found alive.

Kenny acted strange at first, a little cold, a little mean. He must have heard that she returned from someone else, and finally wrapped his head around the fact that she wasn't a ghost. When he realized she was just there for weed, he relaxed, sold her bag and some papers, and offered to roll for her if she could just wait for his break.

She couldn't, and his shoulders fell dejectedly as she turned to leave the store.

Halfway down Main Street, she spotted a lone walker heading the opposite direction on the same side of the street. She considered crossing, getting out of the way, for their peace of mind and hers. She hadn't changed her shirt, and the now dry fabric hung wrinkled and rough from the salt water. She was sure anyone who saw her would make a wide berth.

But not the lone walker. He followed as she crossed the street, falling into step next to her, and she finally saw under his hood, recognized him.

She stopped walking. He stopped walking, hands deep in his pockets, eyes on the pavement.

"What the fuck do you want?" Sofia didn't look away, even as she thought she should be scanning her surroundings. If someone was going to run out and jump her, spotting them ahead of time would hardly help her; she'd once been a good runner, but years of smoking had ruined that.

Jack pulled one hand from his pocket and she flinched, but he just grabbed the back of his neck, a painfully familiar gesture. "Sofia, I... Can we talk?"

A phantom pain coursed through her, an echo of her miraculously healed injuries. Her face, she knew, was still a mess of bruises, but they'd already turned from ugly red and purple to green and yellow, and didn't hurt at all besides. Still, he didn't know that. And if it were up to him, she'd be dead. Well, Kelsey would be dead. But wasn't that the same thing?

"Fuck off." She meant it to come out bitter and hard, but she just sounded tired. She didn't have pockets, so she held her recent purchases in one hand behind her back, as if Jack would even care.

"Sofia..." He took a deep breath, looked at her with teary, big eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Ha. Yeah, right. Fuck you." She started walking again, dismayed when he kept pace.

"It wasn't supposed to be you. You shouldn't have gotten in the middle of it. Sofia!" He darted ahead, stopping her in her tracks. "Listen to me!"

"I don't need an explanation, Jack. I was there, and I'm not an idiot." She stepped close, keeping her voice low. "I know you feel bad now, I knew you would even then. Chugging beer to numb yourself. Did it work? Did it fucking work, Jack?"