Читать книгу Behind the Moon - Madison Smartt Bell - Страница 27

Sometimes she got eye wiggles when she was rolling, but that was different, a lot different from seeing stuff that wasn’t there at all, like those swirling paisley patterns she’d seen on the side of Jamal’s face before she ran away from him on the ledges. Now it was iridescent snakeskin patterns on the tent flap when she pulled the fat tab of the zipper down and the flap peeled from its toothy track. Flipping something, candy flipping. Jamal said. She wanted to go deeper into the rolling feeling, warmth and openness, cuddlesome closeness. The tent flap furling downward was a triangle that inverted the triangle that wanted to pull her forward by the nubs of her breasts and the bottom of her belly—then too the dizzy fascination of watching that happen, the tent flap unfurling itself slowly, looking at it from some other place, like when you were watching something secret, forbidden. Even what Karyn was doing drew her on, and it didn’t even matter that there were more than two. No worse, no different, than joining a rolling kitten pile. It was the light on the camera that pushed her back, its sharpness piercing like a scalpel, making her not see not understand so much as feel, way down in the base of her brain, that Karyn was being done, not doing.

White teeth. “Come on in—we’re just getting started.”

The light stabbed at her, pushed her back. She took two backward steps from the door of the tent before she turned and ran.