Page 146 of On a Fault Line

“There’s a lot.” Angie says what I’m thinking.

A whole hell of a lot…

Claire grabs the big pitcher of a brownish liquid. “Oh, just some special tea. I’m experimenting with the recipe.”

And we’re the guinea pigs. Yay, us.

I nudge Angie. She isn’t saying anything. “Are you in shock?” I whisper.

“What’s that?” Claire jumps in.

“Oh, nothing,” I cover. “I was just saying that I love tea. But what makes it special?”

Claire reaches behind her and grabs a pink and white canister that has a cow printed on the front. “Collagen,” she answers enthusiastically.

I can’t contain my hesitation. “Umm…”

“It’s found in your connective tissues under your skin. All natural.” She takes a capful and adds it to the first glass, along with some of the tea from the pitcher.

I stare at the cloudy mixture. “What’s the point of this again?”

“To collect our life insurance money,” Angie finally chimes in, making me almost laugh, which then makes Claire glare at us.

“To keep your youth intact,” she snaps. She stirs the cocktail, creating a murky tornado within the glass. “Once I’m no longer pregnant, I’ll be back on this regimen. It will do wonders for your body.”

“And you promise it won’t taste bad?” I pry.

She grabs the canister, rotating it until she can find the section on the label she seems to want. “See?” She taps the side. “Package says odorless and tasteless.”

“Yum.”

“Just try it,” she coos, smiling so excitedly that I don’t think I can resist. No wonder she has my brother wrapped around her finger. He probably can never say no to her. I know I’m afraid to disappoint her.

Claire hands Angie and me our individual portions.

I slowly bring the glass up to my lips, peering inside at the cloudy contents swirling about. Shit. This looks fifty percent congealed and one hundred percent nasty. I close my eyes, tipping back the chilled mixture. The bitterness of the tea hits my taste buds first, followed by the texture of gelatinized slime slipping past. My eyes pop open in shock, as I feel my stomach lurch. Did I just eat a mussel? Or a slug?

I just ate a slug.

I’m so grossed out that I quickly put the glass back down onto the counter and close my eyes again.

“I can’t believe we survived this,” Angie says, her voice barely a whisper.

“Good, huh? Everyone swears by it.” Claire pats me on my back.

I’m going to throw up. I can just feel it. “Hmm,” I hum, trying so hard not to yack all over the kitchen.

“It’s going to make your already amazing skin look kissed by a baby angel.”

What does that even mean? I think I just consumed chalk-flavored Jell-O.

“How about we take our baby angel skin to a real girls’ night out?” Angie asks. “I feel like we are wasting our youth away.”

Claire pops out her hip, placing her hand on it for emphasis. “Wow.”

Angie looks at her with confusion. “What?”

“I’m not used to you being the one with the good ideas.”

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