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Back Devotion Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Publisher

“We have to go to the beach.” I grabbed Lonnie’s shoulders—my shoulders?

“That’s where we’re going.” She laughed. Of course she already knew what I needed. She pulled on a bookcase, which swung out, revealing a dark hole in the wall, a secret passage. “They were paranoid about burglars,” she said, pushing me forward, into the dark, the breathing salt-smelling dark, hanging on to my waist, moving me like a doll, like a puppet, my flesh like mud, like clay, not fully formed. I could watch my body as I could watch Lonnie’s. “An escape route,” she whispered.

The passageway led up and then steeply down. The candle blew out, so I felt along the sides of the passageway, to make sure they weren’t narrowing. I tried to pay attention to what it felt like to be in her body. I understood that I was being given a rare gift, but I could only manage to think of movement—all the different motions that lead to a step—the knee bending, straightening, the foot pointing and then flexing, the hips swinging. I could feel the sting of the little X on the bottom of my foot.

When the next door opened we were outside, on the edge of the woods, near the boathouse. I watched myself run up and down on the wet sand just past the trees, my feet creating sparks, the brutal waves crashing beside me, still glowing green. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t find Sienna. I started yelling for her. If I was on the beach, she should be too. That was where we met.

But she wasn’t there. I couldn’t find her. I knew I’d never see her again, would never be able to save her from any of this. My clay legs gave out eventually. I watched myself lie down in the earth, clay to clay, earthworms surfacing as they had in Oregon during a rain. Stones surfacing around me too, pushing up through the ground, as well as other things, the bones of birds and rabbits and mice, arrowheads, the anglerfish. The big slimy body of the anglerfish at the feet of that clay person in the ground.

I picked up a stone from the ground, wiped it off, expecting it to be jagged, but it was smooth like a river rock. I knelt beside the girl in the ground, opened her clay mouth, and slipped it inside.

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