THE PLACID1 OCEAN meant broad shallows, and I had to maintain a twenty-foot distance from the shore to keep the kayak out of sand. As I cut through the water, a weak, misty2 breeze washed my face. After this morning's clumsy jog, working my arms felt good, and so did being alone in the vastness of the sea.
I picked up speed as I passed Dave Dell's glass bowl. The house was huge but shabby from up close—gray paint scarred by wind and salt, lowered curtains, no signs of inhabitance. The next property meandered3 along the bluff4, fronted by clumps5 of rough-cut shrubbery and backed by pines twisting spastically. Rickety steps to the beach dangled—the bottom dozen steps had been sheared6 off.
As I continued south the breeze picked up, and now I was working a bit just to keep from veering7 back toward land. A few minutes later the first sign of riptides appeared—narrow pipes of coiling water braiding the skin of the Pacific. As I passed over them the kayak bucked8, then settled down gently.
Three more estates, two with intact steps so steep they were little more than ladders. Norris's tale of a fast-vanishing beach might have been hyperbole, but signs of erosion were obvious in the furrows9 that corrugated10 the bluffs11. An outcropping of rock fingers stretched into the water, and I pushed the kayak farther out to sea, skimming the eastern border of a floating mass of kelp. Suddenly, the sun hid itself again and the water gotdark. I was a good fifteen yards from the tide line when Tony Duke's funicular came into view.
Duke's property was wider and higher than those of his neighbors, and his property line was more sinuous—a series of S-curves created as the cliff twisted and relented. The hillside had been planted with succulents, but all that remained were scraggly gray-green patches, and the erosion scars were long and deep, impossible to mistake for anything but inevitable12. Down below was Duke's patch of beach, a spoon-shaped hollow visible only from the water. The funicular was a low-key affair, redwood car and dark metal tracks blending in with the mountainside. The passenger compartment13 rested atop the cliff, shadowed by a brown metal arch that I assumed was some kind of power source. The tracks dropped from the hilltop to the sand in a near-vertical drop, adhering to the dirt as if by magic. If plants couldn't take root, could metal bolts be trusted?
Someone thought they could. Nestled in the spoon were a woman in a beach chair and two small white-blond children. I was too far away to make out the woman's age. Her big straw hat and blowsy white dress provided no help. The kids looked to be around three or four. The smaller one—a girl in a pink one-piece bathing suit—sat in the sand, legs splayed, digging with a bright orange shovel14 and adding sand to a green bucket. Several feet in front of her a naked boy ran along the shore, kicking water, picking up clumps of seaweed and tossing them ineffectually at the ocean.
The woman's body was loose in a way that could mean only sleep or hypnosis. In the sand near her right arm, something glassy kicked back reflection.
I stopped rowing, backpaddled to remain in place, and watched them. The naked boy saw me, stared back, raised his arm. Not a greeting— a tight-fisted wave, combative15. The woman didn't move. I resumed rowing—slowly. The breeze bumped me over a riptide, and water splashed into the boat. The air was colder, and the pool around my bare feet had become an ice bath. When I was well past the Duke estate, I looked back. The little boy had lost interest in me, was in thigh16-high water, splashing.
I drifted past several more properties, caught sight of a couple of cathedral-sized houses but no people. The wind had grown adamant17, and my feet, immersed in salt water, were numb18. I crossed a few more rips, found easy water, sat there for a while, bobbing and staring out across theocean, wondering why I'd come. A shadow passed over the kayak as a pelican—a big, fat, gray creature, maybe the bird I'd seen atop the pier— glided19 toward the horizon. I watched the bird cross the kelp bed and settle. Waiting. Dipping, retrieving20, gulping21. Oblivious22 to anything but the task at hand, a jowly monarch23.
I rowed a bit more, hit increasingly angry waves. Fifty minutes had passed since I'd slipped into the wet suit. Time to get back.
I'd be bringing back no tales of naked babes for Norris and nothing of an evidentiary nature for Milo. The little towheads were most likely Tony Duke's second installment24 of offspring, and the woman could be anyone.
As I began the row back I decided25 not to tell Milo of my little ride. Maybe he'd call today, maybe not. One-handing the kayak into reverse, I began my return trip. Rowing faster and staying as close to the shore as the shallows would allow, because the wind had kicked up the waves. Working up a chilly26 sweat by the time the funicular appeared.
The cable car remained at the top, inert27. But the woman in the white dress was on her feet now, hatless, running, golden hair streaming, arms spread wide. Her mouth open too, as she raced for the water.
I was too far to make out the words, but I could hear her scream and the tone was unmistakable: panic.
The little girl in the pink bathing suit hadn't budged28, and the orange shovel was still in her hand. But no sign of the naked boy.
Then I saw him. A little white dot bobbing in the water, maybe twenty yards due north of the kayak.
Just a towhead, no arms. Bouncing like a ping-pong ball, so insignificant29 that I might have mistaken him for flotsam—a stray bit of styrofoam.
The golden-haired woman ran into the ocean just as the ocean swelled31 and the boy disappeared. I rowed toward the spot where I'd spotted32 him. Saw the riptide—tight, luminous33, funneling34.
No sight of him.
The woman was in the water. The little girl had gotten to her feet and was toddling35 after her.
I began rowing frantically36, found my progress too slow, wormed my way out of the kayak and dove into the icy water.
Even a quiet ocean can make a man feel weak. This ocean cared nothing for my self-esteem.
I dove, stroked, dove, stroked, fixing my eye on the spot where the boyhad gone down. Thrown off by the rips and by waves, now freshly stoked by a full-force wind. The funnels37 weren't strong enough to pose a danger to someone of my size, but they slowed me down, made it harder to focus on my destination.
I swam as hard as I could, got close to the spot—still no sign of the boy—there he was, ten yards farther out, face whitened by sunlight, bouncing—no sign of his arms, but he seemed to be staying afloat— treading water, good swimming skills for his age, but how long could he last? The water was icy, and I felt my own muscles clog38. I threw myself into the currents, concentrated on keeping his blond head in my sights. Watched helplessly as he went under again, and when he resurfaced he was five yards farther from shore—being rolled out to sea, slowly but inexorably. The woman's screams sounded behind me, audible above the roar of the tide.
I changed course, widening the angle of juncture39 as I estimated where the rips would take the boy and swimming toward that point. Thinking about all those drowned kids I'd evaluated at Western Peds. Active little boys, mostly. Survivors40 with damaged brains . . .
I reached the spot. No boy. Had I miscalculated? Where the hell was he? A quick glance back at the shore told me I hadn't lost my bearings— the woman in the white dress was swimming too. But she'd covered only a third of the distance, was having trouble as the garment bloused about her like a deflated41 parachute. Behind her, the chubby42 little girl edged toward the water. . . .
I started to warn her, caught sight of the boy's head, then his entire body—fifteen feet ahead—tossed like a scrap43 of kelp as a wave pushed him up and dunked him out of sight, and now he looked scared. I raced toward him, only to see gravity return him to the depths yet again. His arms were thrashing wildly—losing control.
Flinging myself across the riptide that had snared44 him, I reached out, got hold of wet hair, a skinny arm, then a small, bony torso that writhed45 in my grip. Circling his body with one arm, I held his head above water and began paddling back toward land.
He fought me.
Kicked my ribs46, butted47 my chest, shouted in my ear. Tiny teeth bit down on my earlobe, and it was all I could do not to let go. Strong for his size, and despite his ordeal49 he was feisty. Growling50 and spitting, intent on chomping51 my ear again. I managed to pinion52 both his arms and forced his head away from mine using my chin as I continued toward the beach. He howled and bucked and butted his little skull53 against my collarbone.
When the water shallowed sufficiently54, I stood and held his thrashing little body at arm's length. His scrunched-up, triangular55 face emitted a hoarse56 cry of outrage57. Good strong lungs, nice-looking kid. Four or five.
"Down!" he screamed. "Put me down, shit-poop asshole! Down!"
"Soon enough, my little gentleman," I said, catching58 my breath.
Behind me a woman sobbed59, "Baxter!" and slender white hands tipped by long red fingernails yanked the boy from me.
I searched for the little girl.
In the water up to her knees. The woman in the white dress was hugging the boy, her back to the little girl.
I pointed60. "Should I get her, or you?"
The woman swiveled sharply. Young—very young, same triangular face as Baxter. Green-blue eyes followed my finger, and she froze. The baggy61 dress had soaked her to the skin, gauzy white cotton deepening to flesh tone as it clung to her torso, outlining too-full breasts, the grayish purple assertion of nipples, a sweep of abdominal62 swell30, tiny tidepool of navel pit, the stippled63 outline of white lace bikini panties, labial64 cleft65 visible beneath the lace.
"Oh!" she said, but she still didn't move, and the toddler was now up to her waist, laughing and splashing. Tiny little thing—two and a half was my guess—with plenty of baby fat, a convex tummy, a bud-mouth open in wonderment. White hair top-knotted, sand crust on her belly66. The wind was strong enough to rustle67 the trees along the bluff, and foot-high breakers slapped the sand.
"Baxter," said the woman, voice quivering. "Look at what Sage68 is doing. You guys are going to kill me." Still holding the boy, she moved toward the girl, tripped, fell, dropped the boy, who ended up with a mouthful of sand and began choking and screaming.
I hurried toward Sage. Hearing the woman call out, "Ohmigod, I'm so stooopid!"
I reached the child just as she fell on her rear and gulped69 water and broke into sobs70. When I swooped71 her up, she stopped crying immediately. Giggled72. Touched my lip with a tiny, gritty finger. Giggled again and tried to poke73 my eye.
"Hey, cutie," I said.
"Cootie. Heh heh." Poke, poke. I restrained the finger, and she found that hilarious74.
I carried her back to the blond woman and handed her over. Baxter's mouth was clean and grinning crookedly75. He glared at me, proclaimed, "No fish," and shook his fist.
"He thinks he was fishing," said the woman. "He thinks it's your fault he didn't catch anything."
"Sorry," I said.
"Big fisherman," said the woman. "I can't believe he actually did that. He never did it before."
"That's kids," I said. "Always something new."
"No fish," opined Baxter.
"Fiss," echoed Sage.
"What, you have an opinion too, you little wild thing?" said the woman. She bent77 and stared at both kids. "That was silly—really silly. Both of you were silly, right?"
No reply. Baxter had turned profoundly bored, and his sister's attention was taken up by the sand at her feet.
The woman said, "You wild, wild things—for all I know there are sharks out there that could eat you! Sharks!" To me: "Isn't that true?"
Before I could answer she repeated, "Sharks! To eat you!"
The possibility made Baxter smile wider. But for a few sand scratches on his chest, he looked unscathed.
"Oh, you think it's funny. Would you like that? Huh? Would you? To be eaten by a shark—gobbled up like you're his Big Mac or something? Would either of you like to be a Big Mac?"
"No way," said Baxter, cocking one leg. "I eat him."
The little girl giggled.
"You're impossible," said the woman. "You're both impossible."
She straightened, folded her arms under her breasts, turning the nipples into twin torpedoes78. She had a husky but girlish voice, beautiful, lightly freckled79 white skin, looked barely out of her teens. Full, soft lips, dainty chin, long neck, and the green-blue eyes were enormous and widely spaced under plucked eyebrows80. No makeup81, but for the extravagant82 red talons83 and toenails glossed84 in the identical shade.
"Fuckin' shark," said Baxter.
"Fug shanf," said the girl.
"Oh, Jesus," said the woman, grabbing each of them by the hand and shaking her head. Breathing hard and fast, but her breasts barely moved. Too big and too firm, and the rest of her was too slender to support a chest that robust85. Solidity, courtesy the scalpel.
I don't think I stared, but maybe I did, because she seemed suddenly to become aware of her body—of being, for all intents, stripped naked by the second-skin wet dress. She gave a tiny, knowing smile, flipped86 her hair, peered into my eyes as I forced them to keep away from the curves below. Trailing her eyes—now I saw flecks87 of amber88 in the big, clear, green-blue irises—down her own body. Then her gaze shifted to me as she conducted a quick appraisal89 of my wet suit. Smiling again, she turned and, clenching90 a child in each hand, dragged them back to the spot where she'd fallen asleep. Walking slowly, with a swivel-hipped, tiptoe prance91 that jiggled her rear.
I followed, and she had to know that, but she paid me no mind all the way to her beach chair. The straw hat lay half-buried in the sand. The shiny thing I'd seen from the kayak was an Evian bottle. I realized I'd forgotten about the kayak and turned sharply.
The boat had come aground, upended, almost square with the spot where I'd brought Baxter the ear biter to shore. I jogged over, pulled it out of the tide's way, became aware of the throbbing92 in my ear, touched the lobe48, inspected my finger. No blood, but those little teeth had done their job and the flesh was still dimpled and hot.
Back in the spoon-shaped shelter, the woman in the wet dress remained on her feet, saying something to both kids. Sage looked up at her, but Baxter's attention had drifted back to the ocean, and when he moved toward the water the woman held him back.
Then she waved at me. I jogged back.
"Please tell him," she said, when I arrived. "There are sharks out there. Right?" Smoothing down the soaked dress, pressing the fabric93 flush against her skin."Fuckin' shark," said Baxter, growling happily and gnashing those killer94 teeth. "Eat eat eat eat eat eat! Grrr!" Sage laughed.
"Well, aren't there?" the woman demanded of me. "Big killer whites or whatever—as big as dragons—like from Jaws95!" She gnashed too. Small, sharp white incisors of her own. Her nipples had swelled to cherries.
"There just might be some kinds of sharks in there," I said to the kids. "Sharks and all kinds of other fish."
"There you go," said the woman. "Listen to this man, Bax, he knows. With all those sharks and fish and sea monsters in there, you'd be nothing but food, right?"
The boy chortled and tried to break free once more. The woman held on to him and whined96: "Stop, you're hurting my arm—you are really going to kill me. Wild thing—and you should know better too, Sage-a-roo-roo. What got into you, you always hated the water!" Sage dropped her head. Her lips trembled.
"Oh, no," said the woman scooping97 her up. "Don't start crying, now—c'mon, sweetie nibbins. C'mon, c'mon, no tears now, you're a good girl, you don't have to cry—good girls don't have to cry." Sage sniffed98. Cried.
"Oh, please, Sagey. Mommy just doesn't want anything to happen to you. Okay? You understand?"
Sage's nose began running, and she licked away snot. Baxter said, "Ew, boogers," and yanked on his mother's arm.
She yanked back, raised her voice. "Now just set yourself down—both of you." Pushing both children down onto the sand. "Good. Now just stay there—don't move or ... no TV and no pizza or F.A.O. Schwarz or Digimon or Pokemon or nothing. Okay?" Neither child responded.
"Good." To me: "You must think I'm a horrible mother. But he's impossible, never sits still. When he was a baby, every time I walked through a doorway99 carrying him he used to stick out his head and—bump! Banging his head on purpose] Raising these lumps! I used to worry everyone would think he was abused or something, you know?" A glance back at Sage: "And now, you too!"
The little girl said, "UUUUUl"The woman blew a raspberry. Smoothed her dress again, heightening the virtual nudity. "She's usually my good one. What a day."
I smiled. She smiled back. Stuck out her hand. "I haven't thanked you, have I? I'm really horrible—thank you sooo much. I'm Cheryl."
"Alex."
"Thank you, Alex. Thank you very very much. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't . . ." The green-blue eyes took another trip down my wet suit. "Do you live around here?"
"No, I was just kayaking."
"Well, thank God you were. If you hadn't happened to . . ." Tears filled her eyes. "Ohmigod, it's just starting to hit me—what could've—I'm so—" She shivered, hugged herself, looked at me as if inviting100 a hug. But I just stood there, and she emitted several high-pitched whimpers, plucked at an eyelash.
Now her lip quaked. Both kids stared up at her. Sage seemed stunned101, and for the first time Baxter looked penitent102.
I squatted103 down beside them, sifted104 sand through my fingers.
"Mama, kie," said Sage, with wonder. Her lower lip jutted105.
"Mama will be fine," I said, drawing a small circle in the sand. Sage dotted the middle.
Baxter said, "Mommy?"
Cheryl stopped crying. Crouching106 down, she gathered both children to her artificial breasts.
"Mama fine?" said Sage.
"Yes, I am, nibby-nib. Thanks to this nice man—thanks to Alex." She held on to the kids as her eyes locked onto mine. "Listen, I want to give you something. For what you did."
"Not necessary," I said.
"Please," she said. "It would make me feel better—to at least— You saved my babies and I want to give you something. Please." She pointed up at the top of the cliff. "We live here. lust107 come up for a second."
"You're sure it's okay?"
"Of course I am. I'm—I'll bring the car down and we can ride up. You'd be helping108 me anyway. It scares me—the car. I'm always afraid they'll fall out or something. You can hold on to Baxter, you'll be doing me a favor. Okay?"
"Sure." Her smile was sudden, warm, rich as she leaned over and kissed my cheek. I smelled sunscreen and perfume. Baxter growled109.
"Thank you so much," she said. "For letting me give you something."
She walked over to the straw hat, lifted the brim, and pulled out a small, white remote-control unit. The push of a button triggered the cable car's descent, soundless but for an occasional bump where an odd rail protruded110.
"Neat, huh?" she said. To the kids: "Neat, right? Not too many people have something this cool."
Neither child answered. I said, "Sure beats climbing."
Cheryl laughed, tossed her hair. "Well, you couldn't exactly climb that unless you were a—a lizard111 or something, I dunno. I mean, I like to work out—we've— There's a great gym up at the house, and I'm real physical, but no way could I climb that, right?"
"No way," I agreed.
"No-ay," said Sage.
"I could climb it," said Baxter. "Pizza cake."
"Sure you could, honey." Cheryl patted his head. "It's kind of neat, being able to ride down whenever you want. He—it got put in a long time ago."
Muffled112 thump113 as the car came to rest six inches above the sand. "Okay, here we go, all aboard. I'll take Sage and you hold on to him, okay?"
The compartment was roofless. Glass panels in a redwood frame, redwood benches, large enough for four adults. I got in last, feeling the car sway under my weight. Cheryl sat Baxter down, but he immediately stood. "No way, Jose," she said, returning him to his bench and stretching his arm toward mine. I gripped his hand, and he growled again and glared. I felt, strangely, like a stepfather.
"Close the door, Alex. Okay? Make sure it's locked good— Okay, here we go."
Another button push, and up we went, hugging the cliff. The transparent114 walls gave the ride a weightless feel—floating in air as the view expanded to infinity115. A brief, dank wave of vertigo116 washed over me as I caught a stunning117 brain-full of ocean and sky and endless possibilities. Norris might be right about the millionaires and their pitiful scraps118 of beach, but this was something too.
The trip was less than a minute of Baxter squirming, Sage growing drowsy119, and Cheryl staring at me from under half-lowered lids, as if I had something to look forward to. Her legs were long, smooth, subtly muscled, perfect, and as she flexed120 she allowed them to spread, offering a view of soft inner thigh, high-cut lace panties, the merest hint of postwax stubble and goose bumps peeking121 out beyond the seam.
Baxter was staring at me. I held on tight to his hand. When we reached the top the car paused for a second, changed course, drifted horizontally, bumped to a halt under the metal arch.
"Home sweet home," said Cheryl. "At least, kind of."
收听单词发音 |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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meandered
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| （指溪流、河流等）蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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sheared
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| v.剪羊毛( shear的过去式和过去分词 )；切断；剪切 | |
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veering
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| n.改变的；犹豫的；顺时针方向转向；特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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bucked
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| adj.快v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的过去式和过去分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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bluffs
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| 恐吓( bluff的名词复数 )； 悬崖； 峭壁 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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adamant
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| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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retrieving
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| n.检索（过程），取还v.取回( retrieve的现在分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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installment
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| n.(instalment)分期付款；(连载的)一期 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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budged
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| v.（使）稍微移动( budge的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）改变主意，（使）让步 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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34
funneling
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| [医]成漏斗形：描述膀胱底及膀胱尿道交接区 | |
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35
toddling
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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36
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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37
funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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38
clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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39
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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40
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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41
deflated
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| adj. 灰心丧气的 | |
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42
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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43
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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44
snared
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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47
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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48
lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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49
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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50
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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51
chomping
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| v.切齿，格格地咬牙，咬响牙齿( chomp的现在分词 ) | |
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52
pinion
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| v.束缚；n.小齿轮 | |
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53
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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54
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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55
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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56
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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57
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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58
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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59
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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60
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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61
baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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62
abdominal
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| adj.腹（部）的，下腹的；n.腹肌 | |
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63
stippled
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| v.加点、绘斑，加粒( stipple的过去式和过去分词 )；（把油漆、水泥等的表面）弄粗糙 | |
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64
labial
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| adj.唇的；唇音的；n.唇音，风琴管 | |
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65
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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66
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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67
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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68
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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69
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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70
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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71
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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74
hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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75
crookedly
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| adv. 弯曲地，不诚实地 | |
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76
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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78
torpedoes
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| 鱼雷( torpedo的名词复数 )； 油井爆破筒； 刺客； 掼炮 | |
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79
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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81
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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82
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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83
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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84
glossed
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| v.注解( gloss的过去式和过去分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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85
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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86
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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87
flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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88
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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89
appraisal
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| n.对…作出的评价；评价，鉴定，评估 | |
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90
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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91
prance
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| v.（马）腾跃，(人)神气活现地走 | |
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92
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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93
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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94
killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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95
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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96
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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97
scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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98
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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99
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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100
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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101
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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102
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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103
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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104
sifted
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| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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105
jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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106
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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107
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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108
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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109
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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110
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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112
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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113
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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114
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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115
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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116
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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117
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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118
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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119
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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120
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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121
peeking
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| v.很快地看( peek的现在分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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