Hide and Seek

time now. Not just what happened. But how I felt about Casey, how

I feel about her still. I don't know which is worse, really, but I

guess

I'm going to find out.

Starting now.

I'll tell you how I knew she was crazy. It was the business with the

car.

It was June, a Saturday or Sunday it must have been, because Rafferty

and I were both off for the day. I remember it was unusually hot for

that time of year, so we'd stopped at Harmon's for a six-pack and

headed for the beach.

There's really only one good stretch of white sand around DeadRiver.

The rest is either stone or gravel or else a sheer drop off slate cliffs

nearlythirtyfeettothesea. Soon hot days just about everybody you know

is there, and this was maybe the second or third good day that year, so

naturally she was there too, way behind us by the cliffs, near the goat

trail. The three of them were there.

We were hardly aware of them at first. Rafferty was a lot more

interested in Lydia Davis, lying on a towel a few feet away. And I had

my eye on a couple of tourist girls. Occasionally the wind would slide

down the cliffs and pull the music from their radio in our direction,

but that was all. The beach was pretty crowded, and there was plenty

to look at.

Then I saw this girl walk by me to test the water. Just a glimpse of

her face as she passed. The water was much too cold, of course. Not

even the little kids were giving it a try. You wouldn't find much

swimming here till late July or August. I watched her shiver and step

backward when the first wave rolled over her feet. The black bikini

was pretty spectacular. Somehow she'd already managed a good deep tan.

From where I sat, I could see the goose bumps.

I watched her step forward. The water was up to her calves by

Rafferty was watching too. "More guts than brains," he said. I

mentioned that she was also beautiful.