Wearing wraparound sunglasses even though it was starting to look like rain, she came down the front stairs, wobbling just a little. She ignored the cement path leading to the street, cutting across the bare-dirt yard, straight for Ingrid, who for some reason was rooted to the spot..
Cracked-Up Katie walked right past Ingrid, missing her by inches and maybe not noticing her at all. She took a few steps down the sidewalk, then stopped suddenly and turned around.
"You lost?" she said. She had a deep, ragged voice, like a heavy smoker or someone who'd just finished screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Not really," Ingrid said.
Cracked-Up Katie took off her wraparound sun-glasses and gazed down at Ingrid. She had pale irises, blue or green, but so light there was hardly any pigment at all. The whites of her eyes, on the other hand, had twisted red veins running all over them, so the effect of her gaze was painfully red.
"You look lost to me," she said. She took a step closer, gazed harder. "Like totally."
From Down the Rabbit Hole by Peter Abrahams. Copyright © 2005 by Peter Abrahams. All Rights Reserved. Reproduced with the permission of the publisher, HarperCollins. No part of this book maybe reproduced without written permission from the publisher.
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
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