Read Cold Springs for Free Online

television, settled her into her father's recliner. Mallory was so small she looked like a stuffed animal in the midst of all the black leather. Katherine rummaged for a good video—something from the war chest of her childhood—and settled on
The Little Mermaid.
It was a bootleg video, something her dad had taped for her, knowing that the official VHS version wouldn't be out for years. She'd loved the movie when it first came out, even though she'd been twelve going on thirteen—a little too old to admit she liked cartoons. Her dad had told her the story many times when she was young, but she liked the Disney version even better, because it had a happy ending. She figured that's why her dad had gone to such trouble to get her a copy—it was the last thing she'd ever enjoyed as a kid, the last happy ending that had ever appealed to her.
    She put it in the machine, waited for the intro music to start.
    “I don't like that one,” Mallory complained.
    “This is a good one, sweetie. I love this one.”
    “Could we play a game? I like it when we play games.”
    “Maybe later.” Katherine tried to keep the smile in place. It's paint, she told herself. Spread it a little thicker, hold it in place, give it time to dry. “I'm going to lie down for a little bit. Okay?”
    “You're getting sicker?”
    “Just a little tired. I'll be fine.”
    “Can I come, too?”
    The plea tightened across Katherine's chest like a seatbelt. She felt the urge she'd been feeling for several weeks now—to shed her possessions, to let Mallory know she loved her.
    “Here, sweetie.” She unclasped her birthday necklace, poured the chain into Mallory's hands. “This is a present, okay?”
    “That's yours. It's your favorite.”
    “Hold it for me. I want you to, Mal. I love you.”
    “I love you too, Kaferine.”
    “That's good. Now watch television for a while.”
    Katherine closed her bedroom door, then went into her bathroom. She opened the brown paper bag. She took out the spoon, the rubber tube, the lighter, the needle. She was surprised by the color of the heroin—almost white this time, like baby powder. Her fingers were cold as she worked, but she knew how. She'd been taught by an expert—deft hands, without fear, taking her wrist, tapping the inside of her forearm for a vein. Just like a nurse. Better than a nurse. Oh God, Samuel. She would miss him.
    Katherine shot up and immediately shuddered. This was better. This let her feel the sadness and the happiness at the same time. Her dad was never coming home. They wouldn't have any more arguments. Her mom would never yell again.
    Katherine stared at the mirror, smiling at the girl there. She looked like her mom, only younger, without the frustrations of raising some stupid kid.
    Katherine wished her mother had gone back to college. Goddamn it, but Katherine would have preferred that. She'd rather have her father at home, away from Laurel Heights, and her mother out making the money. Hadn't they thought of that? Didn't it occur to them it would make them all happier?
    The pleasing sensation of floating off the ground wasn't working as well as Katherine had hoped. She could hear Sebastian the Crab singing in the living room. Should she check on Mallory? No. She'd be fine.
    Katherine tried to remember—had she shot up yet? It didn't feel like it. Her friend had warned her,
You may not get the right high off this batch. You may need to try a little more.
    That's what it is, Katherine decided. Weak drugs. Weak, like everything else.
    She went through the process again—holding the lighter under the spoon, jerking back her thumb when she realized she'd been holding it too close to the flame without even feeling it. The tip looked like she'd dipped it in charcoal. She put it in her mouth and started to giggle.
Don't suck your thumb, m'hijita.
    Finally, she shot up . . . was it for the second time?
    She felt better now, like she was encased in cotton. She stood up from the toilet and her