The Summer King Read Online Free

the day of their picnic? The same shocked witnesses who had raised the alarm and reported what happened?
    I saw her climbing onto the ledge. She was moving slowly, carefully, but then she lost her balance.
    The winds were strong that day. Gusts were coming from every which way.
    I heard her cry out, saw her waving her arms before she fell.
    There are signs and warnings all over the Head, but people still take chances. They assume it’s safe because it’s only a hill, but it can be dangerous.
    There was no one near her. No one to help her.
    I saw her hit the water. It was awful. I’ll never forget it. A boat went out, but not soon enough.
    By the time we got to her, it was too late. She was already gone. Laurel’s feet dragged, as if reluctant to continue, but she forced herself onward. The iron railings along the promenade became a low stone wall where people sat, eating their ice creams. The boardwalk itself tapered away into a tarmac road that curved upward to the Head. She knew where she was going. There were passages in her twin’s journal that she knew by heart, and they were her guide.
    There are lots of holly bushes up here. “The gentle tree” they call it. Hardly any berries, though. The birds eat them. The same birds that are doing all the cheeping and peeping, I bet. The air is thick and sweet. It’s like an earthy perfume, lush and green. I love being here with the sea and the sky and the mountain. It makes me feel part of something so much bigger than myself.
    Laurel did not share Honor’s love of nature. The pungent leaf mold caught at her throat, making her cough. The dense press of greenery was suffocating. Twigs cracked underfoot like brittle bones, and gnarled roots kept tripping her. The wind made a mournful sound in the ragged branches of the Scots pine.
    It wasn’t long before she discovered the tract of nettles that had attacked her sister. Though Laurel’s jeans protected her legs, the weeds stung her hands as she pushed her way through them. She didn’t stop to look for the dock leaves Honor had mentioned, but took some comfort from the shared experience. She imagined her twin forging ahead and yelping in panic as she tried to spot the hornets she thought were biting her.
    The higher Laurel climbed, the harder it got. The brambles grew thicker, the briars thornier, and the path so steep her legs ached. She began to feel uneasy. A stray thought crossed her mind. The mountain’s working against me. Though she told herself not to be ridiculous, she kept looking behind her. The shadows seemed to deepen in the undergrowth. The air had grown chill.
    Then someone burst out of the bushes and onto the path! She cringed instinctively, but the runner veered past her and up the hill. An athlete in shorts and sneakers, with red hair tied in a pony tail, he had barely even noticed her. She tried to laugh at herself, but she was shaking.
    As Laurel approached the peak, she heard the hang gliders calling to each other high in the air. She hunched over in case they saw her. She didn’t want to meet them. They were not the people she was looking for.
    Now the path brought her through a spinney of tangled trees. Many were shattered and blackened by lightning. With a pang, she found the one Honor had described as a witch pointing upward.
    At last she came to the edge of the mountain where it sheered into the sea. White gulls wheeled in the air, screeching at each other. She could see the strand far below, the tiny people on the promenade, and the Ferris wheel twirling like a toy in the wind. But she was more interested in what lay only a few feet down. There a narrow shelf jutted out from the cliff, like a brow frowning over the rock face.
    Laurel was overcome with the knowledge that this was where Honor had spent her last moments alive. She could see her twin sitting in the sun, journal on her lap, writing a story about meeting “them.” But what madness made her climb onto the ledge? If only Laurel had