“—ARTHUR RIMBAUD, “Does She Dance” She’d only ever brought one other person to the Glass Swamp. The summer when she was nine and Janet had taken to constantly teasing her about her imaginary friends, Kaye had decided that she was going to prove they were real once and for all. Janet had stepped on a half moon of bottle glass, cutting through her sneaker and jabbing into her foot on the way to the swamp. They’d never even made it down the ridge. It had not occurred to her until now to suspect tha...t Lutie or Spike or even poor, dead Gristle had something to do with that. Darting lights were easily visible from the street, and shouts carried through the still air. She couldn’t hear the voices well enough to discern whether they were about to stumble down into a bunch of kids drinking beer or into something else. Roiben was all in black—jeans and T-shirt and long coat that all must have been conjured up from moonbeams and cobwebs because she was sure they didn’t come from any of the closets in her grandmother’s house.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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