Page 33 of Restoration

“Wh—” I don’t even get the first word out before he interrupts me.

“Don’t move.” His voice is brisk. Not loud but oddly urgent.

It startles me so much I do as he says. I freeze.

He’s reaching over farther with that stick.

Something terrible is happening. I can sense it in his stiff, tense stance. I gasp instinctively.

There’s still that tickle on my back.

I don’t move my body. He told me not to, and he meant it. But panic is rising inside me, and there’s absolutely no way for me to not turn my head to see what’s going on.

I can’t see very well, but I see enough.

He’s using the stick to flick something off my back. Something dark with way too many legs. Something way too big.

I squeal as he makes the sudden move with the stick.

“It’s off,” he says hoarsely. “I got it off.”

With a series of gasps and whimpers, I jump up and brush my hands all over my body. It feels like every inch of my skin is itching now. Like bugs are crawling all over.

“It’s gone,” Edmund says, standing up too. “Autumn, it’s off.”

“What was it?”

I’m reaching around with both hands to swat clumsily at my lower back.

“Some sort of spider. I don’t know what kind, but I was afraid it might be poisonous and didn’t want it to bite you. That’s why I was being careful.”

He makes perfect sense. He did everything right. And I believe him when he says the culprit is no longer on me. But it still feels like spiders are crawling all over my skin, and I can’t help panicking about it. I’m almost crying as I swat and rub and scratch at my skin. Everywhere I can reach.

I’m wearing just my shorts and tank top, so a lot of my skin is exposed. “Edmund,” I whimper. “Is it still there?”

“No.” He hasn’t lost that urgent note in his voice, but I know at the back of my mind it’s because of my reaction and not because of a potentially poisonous spider now. “It’s gone, Autumn.” He turns me around to look at my back. He rubs his hands up and down from my shoulder blades to the back of my thighs. “There’s nothing there. You can believe me.”

I do believe him, but I’m still scared and itchy. I hug my arms to my chest, shaking and trying not to cry and occasionally slapping myself.

“Why don’t you get back in the water?” he suggests. “Maybe that will help.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I quickly scoot out of my shorts, completely unselfconscious of disrobing in front of him. Then I hurry across the sand in my panties and tank.

Edmund comes with me, pulling off his shorts and T-shirt as he walks and wading into the water beside me in just his boxers.

The water helps. A lot. It’s a shift in sensation that my brain evidently needs.

I fully submerge and then bend my knees so only my head remains out of water.

“Is that better?” Edmund asks, sounding stretched and concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” I still feel shaky, but I don’t want to be ridiculous. I’m fine, so I need to start acting fine.

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch it earlier. I dozed off, and when I woke up, I saw it.”

“It’s not your fault.” There’s a gurgle in my throat I can’t seem to help. “Thank you for... for getting it off me.”

“You’re welcome. Of course I’d get it off you.”