Seven Tears at High Tide Read Online Free PDF Page B

me yesterday.”
    Morgan shrugs.
    â€œNot really a talker, huh?” Kevin waits for a response, but Morgan is staring at the sky, breathlessly watching a cloud unfurl. It’s pretty awesome looking, all light and fluffy, and Kevin doesn’t remember the exact name of this type of cloud or he’d try to be impressive. They watch the cloud stretch a little on the wind, until Morgan smiles and looks expectantly at Kevin. Kevin finds himself smiling back and jerks his head toward the trail, and they keep heading forward.
    Morgan walks as though he’s unsure of his feet, unsteadily making his way down the trail to the shore. Morgan seems fit; his limbs are compact and thick with muscle, but he seems uncoor­dinated. He gets better as they continue, and Kevin remembers that when his older sister broke her leg she had a similar stride when she started to get back on her feet.
    Morgan is wide-eyed at everything; he pauses to watch a file of ants walk across the trail, plucks a piece of sage and strokes the velvet leaf. Kevin laughs, picks his own piece of sage and breathes in the clean, bright scent. He waves it at Morgan, who steps for­ward and sniffs cautiously and then inhales deeply.
    They get to the shore in good time. It is low tide; the water has receded enough that the various cliffside caves are accessible. The trail is steep, but Kevin knows every step by heart. He grabs Morgan once, twice, a few times to stop him from tripping. Sea­gulls caw overhead, and the sound startles Morgan, but when he finds the source he laughs and throws his head back; his whole body shakes. The joy is infectious, and Kevin has no idea why the seagulls are so funny, but he finds himself laughing too, especially when Morgan scrunches up his nose and tries to imitate the noise.
    They comb the shore side by side. Kevin keeps an eye out for bits of sea glass in addition to any pieces of jade. They’re more likely to be found at Jade Cove, but that’s an hour north and Kevin doesn’t have a car. He hopes they’ll find a few good pieces here.
    Morgan is good company; he avidly watches Kevin test a rock’s hardness by scratching it against his steel pocketknife. “Quartz,” Kevin announces happily, showing Morgan the pinkish white stone. Kevin knew it was quartz before he tested it, but never­theless he feels a thrill of pride when Morgan’s eyes widen and he scratches Kevin’s knife with the rock until the blade is covered in marks.
    â€œAll right, it’s not gonna turn into something else while we’re holding it,” Kevin says, grinning.
    Morgan seems to think the test is fun. He picks up every stone and tries to scratch his knife with it. Kevin laughs, surprised at how much fun he’s having. Kevin’s never had a good time col­lecting rocks with anyone. His own parents both love hiking and the outdoors, but his dad prefers to spend hours by the tide pools, watching all the creatures within them, while his mom likes to stop to read aloud and would be happy to find a spot to sit and journal. His older sister, Ann, does not like hiking; any nature exploration she does is in her video­games. And Kevin doesn’t have any friends his own age to go hiking with. He once tried to take Miles, but Miles complained about Kevin’s “stupid little rock collection,” and never wanted to come back.
    Kevin’s used to hiking alone, but having another person here, breathing in the salty air, admiring the view, going at his pace, marveling at the various rocks with him—it’s really nice.
    Morgan turns rocks over, follows behind Kevin companionably, and even listens to him talk about the difference between the Obispo and Paso Robles formations in the bluffs they hike past. When Kevin points out the soft ashy white streaks of volcanic ash embedded in the Obispo siltstone standing out from the younger Paso Robles sediments of earthy clays and sand,