by Sarah Dessen
“Don’t make any rookie mistakes,” she said. “I’m sensing this is your first time doing this.”
“What? Being drunk in an ice cream truck?” I asked.
“Trying to explain yourself out of a punishment,” she corrected me. “The most common screw-up is giving too much detail or information. Stick to facts in simple statements.”
“Like five sentences,” I said.
She looked at me. “What?”
“Five sentences,” I explained. She still looked clueless. “What you say to introduce yourself, you boiled down to the basics. It’s a lake thing.”
“Says who?”
“Roo,” I told her.
“It’s true,” he said from the front seat.
“I have never heard of that,” Bailey said. “But sure, great. Five sentences. Keep it short and sweet. Like, ‘I went to the movie. I saw a friend. We had a beer. I felt bad about it. So I’ve been out here thinking.’”
“Wow,” Roo said, and I looked at the rearview mirror just as he did, our eyes meeting. To me he said, “She’s a natural.”
“Went to a movie, saw a friend, had a beer, felt bad, been thinking,” I repeated. “Got it.”
“Tears are helpful, too,” Hannah added. “I always cry when I get busted. Sometimes the sympathy vote is all you have going for you.”
“Not too many tears, though,” Bailey warned me. “If you’re blubbering, it just pisses them off more. Or it does Celeste. I don’t know your dad, though.”
When it came to this sort of thing, I didn’t really know him either: I hadn’t ever had to lie to him about where I’d been or what I was doing. There’d been no need to until now. Which was probably just what he would say, I was sure, if none of this worked.
“Getting close,” Roo reported, slowing for a stop sign. He looked at Hannah. “You want to hop off at Campus?”
“Can you come back by and hang out before you go to work?” she asked. “We can watch a movie or something.”
He glanced at the clock on the console. “Probably not. Sorry.”
She bit her lip, clearly unhappy. “I thought we were hanging out tonight. I mean, you invited me to this party—”
“Everyone was invited,” Bailey said under her breath. But I could hear her. “Not just you.”
“—and then, when I get there, all you do is take care of Saylor and leave early.” She sighed. “I just don’t understand.”
“Hannah.” Roo looked at her. “She was in over her head and we’re friends. What do you want me to do?”
“Let someone else take over,” she replied, nodding at Bailey.
“I’m kind of in this, now,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but you don’t have to be,” she said. “I mean, you don’t have to save everyone just because you lost your dad.”
Silence. Except for the truck rattling, the sound of which also seemed quieter after this statement.
“This is not about my dad,” he said evenly. “Just trying to help out.”
“Almost there,” Bailey reported, and I looked up to see she was right: the Tides and the Club were lit up brightly just ahead. “You want to hop out, Hannah?”
“Fine,” she said, sounding like she didn’t. She looked at Roo. “Stop by for a second on your way back, okay? Just to talk.”
“I have to work,” he said.
“You always have to work!” she said as she jumped out, her feet hitting the ground with a slap. “God. What happened to summer being about having fun?”
Apparently, this was a rhetorical question, as she was walking away. As Roo watched her, Bailey said, “It’s called real life. She should look into it.”
“Let’s go,” Roo said, pulling away from the curb. “The Pavilion is just up here.”
He was right: I could see it approaching, all the lights on, although there was no longer anyone there. How late was it now?
“We’ll just pull up and you hop out,” Bailey told me as Roo took a turn that sent me sliding toward the other side of the truck. “Then start walking toward the hotel. Remember to look regretful and contemplative.”
“Right,” I said, feeling a shot of adrenaline wake me up. I could do this. Five sentences. The truck suddenly slowed considerably.
“Wait, this isn’t the Pavilion,” Bailey said, squinting out the back window. “This is . . . Roo, what are you doing?”
“Stopping,” he replied.
“Why?”
But then, we spotted the red and blue lights. LAKE NORTH SECURITY, it said on the car parked just a few hundred feet ahead, a man in uniform standing beside it. Next to him, phone to his ear, was my dad. I broke into a sweat.
“Oh, shit,” Bailey said, which didn’t help.
“Is that the police?” I asked.
“Worse,” she replied. “It’s Later Gator.”
“What?”
“Crocodile Security Company,” she said, taking a quick glance out the back windows. “They’re the police at the Club, the Tides, and around these parts. But everyone calls them Later Gator, because if you don’t run and they catch you, you’re screwed.”
“Great,” I said. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” Bailey said, and while her endless instructions this evening had been wearing on my nerves, hearing this was worse. “But the thing is, I’m not supposed to be here.”
I turned. She was looking out the back door again. “Where?”
“Lake North,” she replied, as if it was perfectly normal to be banned from an entire town. “Since I got busted drinking at the Pavilion last year, I’m kind of, um, banned from city limits.”
“But you’ve been coming here the entire time I’ve been visiting,” I pointed out.
“Well, yes,” she agreed. “But very stealthily! You’ll notice we never came across security once.”
“This is insane,” I announced. We were now close enough to the Gator that the lights were bathing us in blue and red, and Roo had dropped the speed to where I was pretty sure we were just getting pushed along by the wind off the water. “Are we both going to get arrested?”
“You’re not. You’re just late and irresponsible.” She kicked off her shoes, stuffing them in her purse, then strapped it over her chest, cross-body style. “I, however, need to get out of here. Think you can handle this like we discussed?”
“Out of here?” I repeated. “Where are you going?”
“Five sentences,” she said, shooting Roo a look in the rearview. He nodded, slowing even more. “You were tired of his rules. You went to the party. You had a beer and it made you feel even worse. You feel awful now. You’re sorry.”
As she said this, she was sliding the lock open on the double doors, one hand moving slowly down to the handle.
“Are you jumping out of the truck?” I asked. “Seriously?”
“Shh,” she said, easing the left-side door open. It creaked, but only barely audibly. Then she looked at me. “Text me when it’s over, whatever happens. I’m sorry I have to go like this. But you can handle it. You’re a Calvander.”
But my dad, a Payne, was now standing right on the other side of the windshield, still holding his phone, eyes narrowed on Roo. The man in uniform, Later Gator, unnecessarily held up a hand to signal we should stop.
“Now, Bailey,” Roo said under his breath, his lips barely moving as he started to roll down his window, Gator approaching from the other side.
It happened fast: one second she was there, perched by the half-open door, and then she was jumping out, noiselessly, into the dark behind us. I scrambled over, pulling the door shut again as Roo finally covered the last few inches between now and whatever was about to happen.
“Evening,” Later Gator said through the open window. He had a slim flashlight in his hand, the beam of which he pointed in the truck, moving it around. “License and registration, please.”
“It’s me you want,” I said, getting to my feet. I had one hell of a head rush as I started walking, b
ut pushed through anyway. “Let him go.”
“Whoa,” Later Gator said, aiming the light at me. “How many people are back there? Don’t make another move. Understood?”
I nodded, standing there as his light shone bright in my face. “I’m Emma Payne,” I said. “It’s just me. That’s my dad right there.”
“Emma Payne?” he repeated.
Hearing this, my dad let his phone drop, coming up to the window as well. “Emma? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Can I please get out so I can explain?”
Later Gator nodded, gesturing toward the passenger-side door. To Roo he said, “You stay where you are and give me those documents. And keep your hands where I can see them.”
“He didn’t do anything,” I protested. “He’s just driving me home.”
“Saylor, it’s okay,” Roo told me, digging into his pocket for his wallet before reaching across to pop open the glove box. To Gator he said, “The registration is in here somewhere. This isn’t my truck—I’ve never had to find it before.”
“Not your truck?” Gator said suspiciously. “Then whose is it?”
“It’s an ice cream truck,” I said. “He’s a teenager. Of course it doesn’t belong to him!”
“Emma,” my dad barked through the window. “Get out. Now.”
Gator gave him a look. “Sir, I’ll ask you to step back so I can handle this.”
My dad, annoyed, took a tiny step backward. Gator, satisfied, turned back to Roo, taking his documents. After studying the license for what felt like a long time, he said, “Christopher Price. You’re from North Lake?”
“Yes, sir,” Roo said. God, I hated that I’d gotten him into this.
“Anything in the truck I should know about?”
“Other than Emma?” Roo asked. Gator nodded, humorlessly. “Just ice cream, sir.”
“Christopher Price?” my dad said. He looked at Roo, then me. “You’re the one who’s responsible for my daughter not being where she said she would be?”
“No,” I said. The bright light, still shining at both of us, was making my eyes water. “I left of my own accord, with someone else. He just brought me back.”
“You went to that party?” my dad demanded, now right back beside Gator despite his previous warning. “After I specifically told you not to?”
“I was upset,” I said, thinking of Bailey for the first time since she’d jumped ship. I hoped for her sake she was halfway to the town line by now. “I saw some people who offered me a ride. I went. I drank a beer. I regretted—”
Roo winced, biting his lip. Oh, shit. I’d just made things worse without even trying.
“You’ve been drinking?” my dad said. Now he wasn’t just mad: he was furious. “What are you even thinking?”
“I’m sorry!” I cried out, my voice breaking. Six sentences. But who was counting? “I was angry and stupid.”
Gator flipped the flashlight back so it was squarely on Roo. “Have you been drinking, Mr. Price?”
“No sir. I have to be at work at midnight. I was the DD tonight.”
“And if I have to call the mobile unit for a Breathalyzer, it will confirm that?”
“He hasn’t been drinking!” I protested. “He’s just driving me home. It’s me who screwed up—I’m the reason you’re all here—just let him go!”
“Emma,” my dad said. “Be quiet and let the officer do his job.”
“But Roo isn’t part of this!”
“Miss.” Gator turned the flashlight back to me. “Calm down and be quiet or you’ll have another problem. Understood?”
Roo glanced at me. I nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”
Gator looked back down at the license and registration in his hand. “Now, Mr. Price, you say you’re headed to work. Where is that?”
“Conroy Market, in North Lake. My boss is Celeste Blackwood. She’s there right now.”
“And where are your parents?”
I saw Roo swallow. “My mom is at work at the Bly County hospital. And my dad is deceased.”
Gator nodded, then looked at the registration again. “Okay. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he turned, walking over to his cruiser and sliding behind the wheel. My dad came back up to the window, pointing a finger at Roo.
“You have a minor under the influence in your car,” he told him, his voice thick with anger. “I don’t care if you’re sober or not, I’ll still be pressing charges.”
“For what?” I demanded.
“Saylor—” Roo said.
“Her name is Emma!” my dad exploded. His face was inches from Roo now: I could see spit flying from his mouth when he spoke. “And she doesn’t go to parties and drink, or at least she didn’t until she came here and started hanging out with all of you.”
“Dad, stop it!”
“Look, I know what goes on with lake kids,” he continued. “I married a lake kid, for Christ’s sake. And I watched her destroy herself. I won’t do it again.”
Roo, my dad’s finger inches from his nose, didn’t say a word. He just sat there, taking this, and that was the worst thing of all.
“Mr. Price checks out,” Gator announced to my dad, coming back from his car and sticking Roo’s documents through the window. “Ms. Blackwood says she’s expecting him at midnight and that he’s a good kid. Said I should let him go.”
“He gave my daughter beer!”
“No, he didn’t!” I said. “God, are you even listening to me?”
“I don’t have evidence of that,” Gator explained to my dad. “Not much I can do.”
“Go bust the party! Then you’ll have your proof!”
“Well,” Gator said, considering this, “the problem is it’s in North Lake. And I only police Lake North. So—”
“Do not tell me this is out of your jurisdiction,” my dad warned him. “This entire place is six miles long.”
“Sir, I’ll ask you to lower your voice,” Gator replied.
“All he did was drive me home,” I said. “Look, I understand you’re pissed and you want to punish me—”
“You’re damn right,” my dad replied, but he was glaring at Roo as he said this.
“But leave Roo out of it,” I finished. “Dad. Please.”
My dad didn’t say anything for a moment. When he did speak, it was very quietly and very clearly. “Fine. But hear me when I say this: I do not want you around my daughter ever again. Whatever has been going on, it’s over as of tonight. Are we clear?”
“Dad,” I said. “You can’t just decide—”
“Actually, I can.” He pointed at me. “Get out of that truck. Right now.”
I glanced at Gator, thinking he might step in, but no. He just stood there with his stupid entirely too bright flashlight, watching along with the rest of us.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Roo. But he didn’t respond, the beam still bright in his face. Of all the ways I thought the night would end, I never could have guessed this. There had always been invisible lines between the two sides and the two communities. But my dad had drawn another, his own. And even though I was right next to Roo, I could feel it between us.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly to him. “I—”
“It’s okay,” he replied, still looking straight ahead. “Just go.”
I nodded, feeling a lump rise in my throat. Then I got up and walked to the passenger door, pushing it open to step out onto the road. It was late, almost midnight, and thankfully, most of Lake North was asleep. But I thought of all those windows at the Tides, each with a person or people on the other side. How did I look, leaving this truck with a cop car, lights spinning, beside it? Maybe, like Waverly herself.
My dad was coming around the front bumper now, and I heard the Yum truck start as we began to walk back toward the hotel together. I wanted to turn and watch it, get this last glimpse of Roo to last me until . . . well, I wasn’t even sure. But just as I was about to, I realized I couldn’t bear it. It
was easier, somehow, to just walk toward those doors already opening to reveal the night desk clerk, cheerful and oblivious.
“Welcome to the Tides!”
Neither of us responded as we walked to the elevator, where my dad pushed the button for our floor. The elevator chimed. We went in, the doors sliding shut behind us.
Twenty
My summer had come to a full stop. But Bridget’s was finally beginning.
“So then,” she was saying, “Sam asks if I’m going to the pool fireworks. And I’m like, yeah, I should be there. And Steve says, ‘What about Emma? Will she be home then?’”
Silence. Too late, I realized she’d paused for maximum dramatic effect. “Wow,” I said quickly.
“I know!” She sighed happily. “I mean, granted, the first part of this summer did not go as I planned with Pop Pop’s stroke and our detour to Ohio. But then to come back, and have this happen within days . . . it’s like fate. It’s what we’ve always wanted!”
She was right. And five weeks ago I would have been just as excited. Now, though: not so much.
“I hate that I’m not there,” I said to her. “Although I’d probably be grounded anyway.”
“Yeah, about that,” she replied. “I have to admit, I’m kind of impressed. The Emma I know won’t even take a drink. Now you’re getting pulled over by the police.”
“It was security,” I corrected her. “Which is really not the same thing.”
“Still, very exciting,” she told me. “The part about your cousin jumping out of the back of the truck . . . I mean, who does that?”
Calvanders, I thought, getting off my bed and walking over to the window. “I’m so stupid,” I said. “If I just hadn’t drunk . . .”
“He still would have freaked out, Emma,” she said. “I mean, come on. Think about it. You weren’t answering his calls or where you said you’d be.”
“It made it worse, though,” I said, thinking of Roo, his face in that bright light of Gator’s flashlight.
She was quiet for a second. Then she said, “Have you heard from him at all? How did you guys leave things?”
Bridget was one of my two best friends for lots of reasons. But I especially loved that she knew what I was thinking, even when I didn’t say it out loud.