Family
The tea leaves formed brown clumps on the side of my cup.
Finally the fortune-teller spoke. "The leaves nearest the rim tell us about the future," she said. "They form the shape of a dagger."
Ashley pushed her on the next large rock and almost knocked her over. As her cousin leaped from rock to rock, Tabitha tried to follow but wasn't as sure of herself, especially on the slippery surfaces of the boulders.
"It's not a race," she said.
Ashley spun around on one foot and said in a sing-song voice, "Is the wittle baby getting tired?"
Before Tabitha could respond, Ashley spun back and jumped for the next rock. As she did, her back foot slipped out from under her. Her body landed flat across two rocks, and her cheek whacked the stone.
Tabitha winced.
Ashley lay still.
There he stood, my grandmother's Spirit Man. He came up to my thigh, carved out of wood so dark it was almost black—wearing a scowl and a ring through his nose and a grass skirt that should have looked silly but didn't. He looked angry and strong and mean. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry.
