Page 35 of Snowman

"Fresh cherries! Sweet, fresh, buy!" And his voice boomed louder and louder, breaking through the morning fogginess.

"We don't want your damn cherries! Go away!" Mel shouted, leaning out the window. She turned to me, grinning, a laugh bubbling from her chest as she collapsed onto the bed.

"Malaka!"the man barked, shuffling off with a glare, his muttered curses fading as he went.

"You really pissed him off," I said, biting my own laugh back.

Mel looked at me, her face softening into that knowing gaze she always wore, the look that made her seem so much older than fourteen. She was always the wise one, seeing through the world's little tricks when I clung too closely to the stories told to me, trusting too much by half.

She wordlessly crawled to her bed and pulled something from underneath the mattress. The glossy magazine she had taken when Mom wasn't looking. She flipped it open to a page with a model draped across a page in his underwear.

"This," Mel said, poking her finger at the picture, "this is why we're going to the beach alone today." She gave me a wicked grin. "And don't give me thatsaintlook."

I tried to keep a straight face, but a giggle managed to sneak out. "You think anyone will even notice us?"

Mel didn't answer right away, instead tugging my hand to pull me to my feet and spinning us toward the mirror on the old wardrobe. The reflection showed two girls caught in a moment, dark blonde hair falling wild around her face, my lighter locks brushing my shoulders. She rested her chin on my shoulder, her eyes following mine.

"Are you kidding?" she whispered, "Look at you. You're fucking beautiful."

Her words hit me, and I turned to her, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I fucking love you, you know that, don't you?" I murmured against her hair.

"And I love you,malaka," she said, giggling, the word spilling from her mouth. "Even though I have no idea what it means."

She pulled back and spun us to face the mirror again, her hands clamping down on my shoulders. "This is our year. No more locked doors. No more rules. Justus,and maybe some of those gorgeous men out there."

Her squeal of excitement echoed through the room, her hands clapping together as she bounced on her toes. For the first time, I let myself believe her. Maybe this really could be our year.

The beach was supposed to feel like freedom, but it didn't. Not with our parents at the bar above, watching us from their shaded perch in case we disappeared if they happened to look away.

"Minors need supervision,"Dad told us before we left. Their rules clung to us, every step we made.

Mel didn’t seem to mind. Lying on her towel, her arms outstretched, seeking the sun, her skin already a deep pink. But she didn’t move, she lay there, and her body needed to feel it, to leave a mark on it. All I could do was sit and wait, let the rhythms of the sea sway me, like a melody I couldn’t help but hum.

I stood and wandered toward the shore, my feet falling onto the hot sand, and eyes searching smooth cool rocks at the edge of waves. Restless, the sea was crashing into rocks, sending sprays of salt water upwards, through the air. I let mist stay on my skin as it settled from it, closing my eyes to the roaring sound of the ocean.

When I opened them, I wasn't alone.

A woman was standing there, leaning on rocks with the shimmering sea acting as a backdrop, her blonde hair pulled back into some sort of ponytail. She wore sunglasses propped high on her head. Her eyes caught mine, an odd feeling of being stuck in her cool blue-eyed stare. She seemed strange to me, familiar and at once unattainable, like a momentarily forgotten dream.

She took a step closer, again not very sure if she should approach. Her gaze did not waver, nor did it shift to another place. My chest tightened a little because I did not know what to do, whether to leave or stay when she suddenly spoke. "Zara?"

Her voice had cracked and was barely more than a whisper. Then louder, with rising desperation, "Zara, is that you?"

I froze.

The name hit me like an unexpected cold wave. I turned slightly, looking behind me, certain she was talking to someone else. But when I looked back, her eyes hadn’t left me.

She took another step closer, then another, her pace quickening. Something, hope, lit up her face. Before I could say a word, her arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace.

"Zara!" she sobbed. "Oh, Zara, mommy found you!"

I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat. "I'm not Zara," I managed to say, my voice shaking. "You've got the wrong person."

But she didn't let go. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to me, her grip tightening. "Mommy found you," sherepeated, words tumbling out like a plea as if she could make them true if she only said them enough.

I tried to pull back, panic rising in my chest. The desperation in her voice made me want to comfort her, but I couldn't. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad. He was coming down the stairs from the bar, his strides long, fast, his face dark with anger.

In an instant, he was beside me. He pulled my arm, whirled me behind him, and stepped between the woman and me. "Leave her alone!" he shouted, his voice edged, a cutting sound.

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