by Nancy Thayer
But they weren’t snobs or freaks. They did stuff with the other girls. They went to all the home football games, to slumber parties, and even the occasional day trip to the Cape with friends to shop and eat at the mall.
Still, they treasured their secret ambition. They felt like superheroes, masquerading as silly girls secretly aiming for the stars.
* * *
—
The summer the girls were ten, the Maxwells went off on their European “jaunt”—as Mrs. Maxwell called it. One afternoon in the middle of August, they returned. As always, even before she unpacked, Isabelle phoned Keely. “I’m home!” Then she biked to Keely’s house as fast as her legs would pedal.
Keely was out on the lawn, waiting, jumping up and down with excitement. The girls screamed with joy when they saw each other. Keely and Isabelle hugged and whirled around and fell down on the soft green grass, laughing like hyenas.
“I missed you so much,” Isabelle cried.
“I missed you more,” Keely insisted. “You have to tell me everything.”
Keely’s mother came out of the house. “Isabelle. Let me look at you. Oh, honey, I think you’re two inches taller.”
Isabelle jumped up and hugged Mrs. Green. “I know. I’m a giraffe,” Isabelle said, fake mournfully.
Keely’s mother laughed. “You’re a beauty. Now tell me if I’m correct. You girls like a large pizza with onions and pepperoni and a Pepperidge Farm chocolate cake.”
“Yay, Mom, you remember!” Keely stood up, brushing grass off her shorts. Every time Isabelle returned from the Maxwells’ European summers, Isabelle and Keely celebrated by eating on the back patio, just the two of them, stuffing themselves with pizza and cake and laughing and whispering and eating more cake until two or three in the morning when Isabelle, groggy with jet lag, said she had to sleep. They’d bring the mostly empty boxes of food into the kitchen and quietly tiptoe to Keely’s bedroom. Without even brushing their teeth, they collapsed on the twin beds and slept until noon the next day.
This summer, when Keely woke, Isabelle was gone. Keely wandered into the kitchen. Both her parents were at work, but her mother had left a note for her.
Isabelle has an appointment with the orthodontist. I drove her to her house at nine this morning. She said she’ll call you.
Poor Isabelle, Keely thought. To have to spend the morning getting fitted for braces—tragic.
Also, Sebastian wants you to call him.
Well, that took her breath away. Sebastian wanted Keely to call him?
Keely stared at the penciled note on the scrap of paper, willing it to reveal the true meaning. She was certain Sebastian had no idea how she felt about him. She had never told Isabelle because, face it, no matter how many multi-syllabic words Keely knew, no matter what fabulous grades Keely received, she was still too young, too childish to be in love. If she did tell Isabelle, Izzy would fall over laughing till she wet her pants. Keely would die of a thousand sharp stabs of embarrassment if she ever told Isabelle.
Plus, Isabelle might think Keely was being her best friend just to have access to Sebastian. Keely never wanted Isabelle to think that.
She was so confused! She was such a loser! She wished she could talk this over with Isabelle, but that was the last thing she could do.
But she had to do something. She had to do something definite, memorable.
For once she was glad her parents weren’t home. On a shelf with the olive oil and balsamic vinegar was a bottle of cooking sherry. Keely poured herself a small sip of the amber liquid. She went into the dining room where her mother had two candlesticks on the table on either side of a woven basket of shells. Keely lit both candles. She took out two scallop shells and placed them side by side.
She said aloud, in a somber voice, “I, Keely Green, vow that I will never tell Isabelle Maxwell that I am in love with her brother, Sebastian.”
She tossed back the sherry (it tasted terrible). She put her hands on the shells and blew out the candles.
There. It was done. She had made a vow. She felt more mature, as if she had consciously created an important part of who she was.
She returned to the kitchen, ran a glass of cool water and drank it down. She took a quick shower and pulled on one of her bathing suits with a Kylie Minogue T-shirt over it. The day was hers. Isabelle would probably take a nap after the orthodontist visit. Keely would see her this evening. Until then, she could read the latest novel from the library, or—
Someone was pounding on the door. Keely opened it and found Isabelle’s brother standing there with steam coming out his ears.
“Sebastian!” Her heart nearly exploded.
“Didn’t your mom tell you to call me?”
“Um, yes.”
“The sand castle contest is today. I need your help.”
Good, this was something ordinary, normal. Something she, Isabelle, and Sebastian had done for several summers. Isabelle might join them after she got her braces fitted. All Keely had to do was act natural, like her own childish self.
“Okay, sure. Do you know what you’re going to do? Do you need, I don’t know, bowls for molds or something?”
“I’ve brought buckets and stuff. I’m not sure what to do. That’s why I want to talk to you. Get your bike and let’s go.”
“I’ve got to leave a note for my mom and dad.”
She scurried into the kitchen and scribbled a note. She shoved her feet into flip-flops, and checked the beach bag she always had waiting, filled with a thermos of water, towels, and sunblock. She pulled the front door shut, stuck her beach bag in her basket, and wheeled her bike next to Sebastian’s.
“So what are your ideas?” she asked as they biked toward Jetties Beach.
“Maybe Iron Man and Hulk and—”
“We did action heroes last year.”
“Well, what then?”
“What about a whale? A great big whale…smiling. The judges always go for what’s islandy and cute.”
“You’re right. We’ll do it,” Sebastian said.
Keely grinned.
They were late to the contest. All up and down the beach, people were on their knees, shaping and patting the sand. Keely and Sebastian locked their bikes to the stand and raced down the beach to an open space at the far end.
First they carried buckets of sand to their spot. The sand had to be just right, damp enough to hold its shape but not so sodden it crumbled. Sebastian drew an outline in the sand and they began molding the gigantic body of the whale. The tail was the most difficult, so Sebastian had it raised and slanted to show the entire fluke.
Keely’s eyes kept straying from the sand to Sebastian’s tanned hands and body. It was so intimate, working next to him like this. She could hear him breathe. She had to get him out of her sight.
She had to distract herself. “I’ll build a baby whale here, below the mother.”
“Fine,” Sebastian said, bent over his whale.
He probably thought a baby whale was a girly idea. Good, Keely told herself. Because she was young and girly and hopelessly not in his league.
The sun rose high in the sky. They took quick dips in the water to cool off before getting back to work. At the end of the day, they were exhausted. Their structure didn’t win—a group of college guys had built a miniature Main Street—but their whales did get photographed for the newspaper. Their theme was so Nantucket and if she said so herself, and she did, the baby whale, with its smile, was adorable.
In the late afternoon, they biked to the Maxwell house. They took turns using the outdoor shower. Keely went around to the back deck to dry off. She collapsed in one of the Maxwells’ fancy cushioned chairs.
“You guys!” Isabelle stomped out on the porch, arms folded over her chest, pouting. “Why didn’t you call me? I wanted to help.”
�
��You were with Mom at Dr. Robert’s,” Sebastian yelled.
“Show me your braces!” Keely demanded.
“Don’t have them yet. It’s such a major project.” Isabelle flopped into a chair next to Keely.
Sebastian came up the back steps, dripping from his shower, his towel wrapped around his waist, the sun gilding his hair. He’d acquired muscles over the summer. His shoulders were broader, his thighs thicker. The sight did something funny to her stomach. She looked away.
“You are SO going to have a sunburn all over your back,” Isabelle told her brother.
Sebastian shrugged. “Call me when you start the movie.”
It had become a custom for the three of them to spend the Maxwells’ second night back with fish dinners from Sayle’s and a movie. Keely and Isabelle said it couldn’t be too scary and Sebastian said it couldn’t be too romantic and it really couldn’t be a musical. They agreed on Dude, Where’s My Car? The girls both had mad crushes on Ashton Kutcher. Keely made sure Isabelle was in the middle of the sofa, between her and Sebastian. If she sat next to Sebastian, her leg might touch his. It frightened her even to think about that.
As always, Keely phoned her parents and got permission to spend the night at Isabelle’s. The Maxwell house had central air. What a lush luxury it was to slide into the silky sheets beneath a light down comforter in the twin bed in Isabelle’s room.
Life was back to normal, Keely thought, and she was smiling as she fell asleep.
* * *
—
When Keely was eleven, Sebastian did something extraordinary.
The Maxwell family had spent February vacation in Eleuthera, and Isabelle had brought Keely a cute T-shirt, like that could compensate for the difference between their two lives. Yet Keely didn’t want to be all pitiful. First of all, that would be lame and icky. She’d keep her self-pity to herself, thank you very much. No one liked a whiner. But second, and really more important, Keely had loved this past week when most of her friends were gone and there was no school and she checked out a big fat pile of novels from the library and she’d spent her days and much of her nights lost in worlds that required as a passport only the ability to read.
And she came up with a totally cool project.
Keely and Isabelle were in the Maxwells’ dining room on a frigid, gray Sunday morning. Sebastian had taken over the den to play the videogames he’d missed on vacation. Mrs. Maxwell was shopping for groceries, and Mr. Maxwell was, as always, at work.
“So, Isabelle, now that you’re all tanned and fabulous, let me tell you what I did all week.”
“What?”
“I’ve started a newspaper!”
“We have a newspaper.”
“No, the town has a newspaper. The adults have a newspaper. Kids don’t.”
“How are you going to make a newspaper? You’re eleven.”
“I’ll show you.” Keely unzipped her backpack and pulled out a sheaf of papers she’d stapled together. “Look.”
The first page said simply: THE BUZZ.
The second page headline read: AUDITIONS FOR THE SPRING PRODUCTION OF ANNIE. The column told where and when the auditions were being held, and continued with a short summary of the musical, followed by a brief recap of past productions.
The third page was headlined LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. There was one letter, which read, Dear Editor, I’m not that fussy about what I eat, but I wish the cafeteria would put real cheese in the macaroni and cheese instead of the orange superglue they use. I’m writing this because I can’t talk because my teeth are stuck together. Hopefully, Glenda.
“Wow, Keely. This is amazing!” Isabelle said. “But we don’t have a Glenda on the island. Isn’t that the name of the good witch in the Wizard of Oz?”
“Silly, this is only a prototype.” Keely nearly fainted with pleasure at using the word prototype. “I wrote the letter. I made everything up. So I get to be the editor and you can be the assistant editor and since you have your cool camera, you can be the photographer.”
“But how can we make copies?”
Keely flicked Isabelle’s leg. “We’ll talk to the school about making hard copies on their printer.”
Isabelle squinted her eyes, conveying deep thought. “If the school makes the copies, they’ll know what we’re writing and they’ll be able to edit it.”
“Well, Isabelle, it’s not like we’ll have a lot of scurrilous material.”
Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Scurrilous.”
“It means scandalous. Outrageous.” Keely grinned. Isabelle might have gone far away in physical space, but Keely had traveled far in her mind, and brought back souvenirs.
Isabelle tapped her index finger on her lower lip. “Okay. I see the potential. But it needs something else. Maybe a logo? A cartoon? I don’t know, something graphic.”
“Good idea, but you know I can’t draw.”
“Maybe we could use a sticker?”
Keely shrugged. “I guess.”
The girls felt a gust of icy air as Mrs. Maxwell entered the house.
“Kids! Come help with the groceries!”
Keely jumped up and followed Isabelle. The number of bags Mrs. Maxwell filled at the Stop & Shop always astonished Keely. She made three trips to the SUV and back, lugging a bag in each hand.
“Mom,” Isabelle complained, “I don’t see Sebastian helping. He and his friends eat most of the fruit.”
“He shovels the walk and the drive,” Mrs. Maxwell reminded her daughter.
In the kitchen, they made a kind of game of putting away the zillion items. Huge bundles of toilet paper, paper towels, tissues. Mountains of fruit. Gallons of milk, pounds of butter, acres of bread.
“Take that toilet paper upstairs, Isabelle,” Mrs. Maxwell said. “Then you’re done. Thanks, girls.”
Keely returned to the dining room table while Isabelle stomped up the stairs.
At her spot, next to the first page of The Buzz, was a piece of paper with a loosely but cleverly drawn bee. It was very fat. It had a huge face with a mischievous smile.
“Sebastian.” Keely scanned the room, as if he could be hiding behind the mahogany sideboard.
She studied the bee more closely. Under one of its wings were the initials KG. Keely’s letters. So he wanted people to think Keely had drawn this.
Okay. She could do that. Quickly she picked up a pencil and drew her own versions of the bee on fresh sheets of paper. They weren’t as good as Sebastian’s bee, but they weren’t that different, especially because Sebastian’s bee had a slightly wavy outline.
So. Sebastian had been aware of her. Okay, of her and Isabelle. Still. It made her fingers tingle to think that he had overheard and tried to help. As if Sebastian even knew she existed. That thought was overwhelming.
She wondered how she could thank him.
“Done!” Isabelle rushed into the room and pulled her chair close to Keely. “Hey, what’s that? It’s so cute!”
“Do you think so?” Keely cocked her head, giving the smiling bee a serious evaluation. She waited for Isabelle to say that the drawing looked like something Sebastian would do. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I do! It’s adorable, Keely. Definitely it has to be on our masthead. You are so talented! Now. We need reporters. Then we’ll have more news.”
They leaned shoulder to shoulder, scribbling lists, chattering away, thrilled with their plans. For a moment, Keely felt—something—so she looked up. Sebastian was standing in the doorway watching her. Keely smiled at him. He smiled at her.
Sebastian smiled at her.
* * *
—
One afternoon when they were twelve, Keely and Isabelle sat on the rug of the screened porch, designing and cutting out the figures and the clothes for their Women in History paper doll project.
; Keely had labored over an extremely fancy ball gown and was cutting it when it tore.
“Rats!” Keely cried. “It took me forever to make that dress!”
“Silly, just tape it together. On the back. No one will notice.”
“Where’s the tape?”
“You know, in the kitchen by Mom’s address book.”
Keely jumped up and went into the living room and through to the kitchen.
“Can’t find it!”
“Sebastian probably took it.”
Keely headed up the stairs to Sebastian’s room. She assumed he wasn’t home—he was seldom home, except for dinner—so she hurried down the carpeted hall, threw open the door of Sebastian’s bedroom, and stepped inside.
Sebastian was at his desk, a big fourteen-year-old boy with long hairy legs sticking out of his soccer shorts.
“Oh.” She scrunched up her shoulders. “Sorry. I need the tape.”
“Fine.” Sebastian found it on the far side of his desk. “Here.”
Keely approached him to take the tape in its black dispenser. She couldn’t help noticing the pad on his desk with the intricate pencil drawing of the Nantucket harbor.
“Did you do that?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Yeah.”
Without asking permission, she stepped closer, studying the sketch. “This is cool. And I love the whales you put near Great Point.” She was so astonished she forgot to be in awe of him. “I didn’t know you could draw this well.”
“No one needs to know.” Sebastian pulled a blank sheet of paper over his drawing.
“Oh. Okay.” Keely carried the tape dispenser in both hands as she left the room.
“Close the door,” Sebastian said. “And don’t come in here again without knocking.”
As Keely took hold of the brass doorknob and pulled it shut, Sebastian said, “And don’t tell my parents. Especially don’t tell Izzy. She can’t keep a secret.”
“Okay.” Keely shut the door. Then, on an insane whim, powered by courage she didn’t know she had, she pushed the door open again and went into the room. “But, Sebastian, why is that a secret? Is it a present for someone?”