Back to being only 450 words behind. A concerted push, and I’m back on track! Go, me.
When in doubt, find a native guide.
Maravilloso was bigger, shabbier, and a lot more interesting than the beaches on the other side of town. It didn’t have many buildings, but there were a ton of sheds and shacks. What’s the difference? The shacks had hammocks and windows. The sheds had… stuff in them: wood, bits of metal, mismatched tools, and tons and tons of beeswax. The whole thing was ‘picturesque,’ which is what people call open spaces when they can’t smell the cows.
The cows weren’t so bad, though. They were all a ways in, behind some impressively large fences. I mean, the damn things were as high as my shoulder. “I didn’t think cows could jump that high,” I muttered.
“They can’t, mister,” came a voice behind me. Young — teenager young — and female. “That’s to repel boarders.”
I turned around. Yup, it was a teenaged girl. Maybe fifteen, dressed in the snug-fitting body suits the surfers around here wore. Well, in her case the snug-fitting part would have to wait a year or two more, but that’s the price of hand-me-downs. Black hair, green eyes over a smirking, gum-chewing mouth, and the clearly she had gotten a gift from the Freckle Fairy at birth.
“Ain’t this a school night?” I asked mildly as I wiped my head. She noted the hat, and flushed slightly. To be fair, I wasn’t wearing the suit.
“No school on weekends, Shamus. And it ain’t even noon yet. You on a Case?”
“I hope not,” I said, without much conviction.