I blew the lock of blonde hair that had fallen into my eyes out of the way, but it fell back down, blocking my vision once again. I eyed the stringy ends. Maybe I should cut it. I had never thought much about my hair, I let it grow and do what it wanted. But Josh Canavan had short hair, probably not even half an inch long. Was that what girls liked? Clean and neat?Or more specifically, was that what Mara Westray liked?I shook my head and bent back over the wooden dock that jutted into the Pamlico Sound. The sun, barely visible through the thick fog still lingering late in the day, sank over the water in front of me. I grabbed one of the thin, wet ropes dangling from the dock and pulled it out of the water.“Yes!” I sat back on my feet, still squatting on the weathered dock, and opened the rusted wire box attached to the end of the rope. I dumped the one crab into a cracked bucket waiting nearby. The crab tumbled in on its back, flailed its legs a bit, and then managed to turn itself over.
