“I mean yes,” Jeff said.
“Oh,” Dicey said. She had the feeling she had missed most of the conversation. But she knew without asking, yes what.
“Oh,” she said again. “Well—that’s good.” The conversation had ended up all right, so that was fine—that was like the wind rising to fill the sails of a boat, now she was beginning to hear all of what it meant—but how they’d gotten there she had no idea.
“In June, after graduation,” Jeff said. “We could get married the first week in June.”
“Okay,” Dicey said. She was catching up with him. “That would be good.”
“If you’ve got time now, I’d like to talk to you about the interviews and the options. Because if we’re going to be married, it better be a coastal school, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, sure. Can I call Sammy first? To tell them where I am, and about the camera, and—don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay, I am. But not at you. I’m laughing because—because now it’s settled. It’s going to be all right and I thought it wouldn’t ever—we almost lost everything, Dicey.”
“It was my fault,” she said. “I know that. I was—I haven’t been—”
“It would have been both of us, losing. It’s never just one, winning or losing, it would have to be both of our faults. But now it’s—how about some tea? How about if I put on a pot of water for tea?”
Dicey followed him into the kitchen. “Are you sure June will be all right?” he asked.
“June is fine for me. Or April, March—tomorrow, I’d like tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” Jeff said. “The Professor won’t be back until the end of May, and he should be there. But Monday we’ll go to the bank, to get your ring.”
“What ring? I don’t need any ring.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Jeff pointed out. “I have it for you, I’ve had it for you for years. I’m going to have to get my honors thesis written this spring, so I’m going to be pretty busy. What about you? If you don’t have the shop, what are you going to do over the spring? Besides come up for weekends, and be here when I come home—besides me, what are you going to do?”
Dicey watched him set the kettle on the stove and light the gas under it with a kitchen match. She watched him reach into a cupboard for two mugs and pull out a drawer with boxes of different teas in it. She felt like she could do just about anything she wanted to, this spring, and all the rest of her life, now. She knew the feeling would pass, but that didn’t make it wrong. “I’m planning to build a boat,” she told Jeff. She didn’t know how he’d feel about that, but it was the truth.
“That sounds right to me,” he said.
“You mean that?”
“Of course. What do you think? I’m pretty confident about you and boats, Dicey. You ought to know that by now. If I were betting, I’d bet on you.”
Dicey almost said, Don’t do that; but if Jeff was sure of her then she was surer of herself. She figured, thinking about it, she’d probably make mistakes, but the mistakes would tell her what she needed to learn. In fact, if she was going to go to school and learn boatbuilding or design, or sign up to be somebody’s apprentice, it would be smart to have made some of her mistakes ahead of time. She watched Jeff’s face; and he turned to watch hers.
“I think,” he said, his eyes so deep with gladness it could have frightened her if she hadn’t been so glad herself, “you owe it to yourself to build your boat.”
“Yes,” Dicey agreed. “Among the other things I owe it to myself to do.” He knew what she meant, and who; she didn’t have to worry about Jeff understanding her. But when she thought of all the things she wanted to do, and do right—do right by, do as well as they could be done . . . It was all so risky, because there were no guarantees. You couldn’t be sure that any of the risks would pay off. Even if you studied, and planned, and worked, even if you did the best you could, you could still lose out. There was no way to walk away from the truth of that. That’s what no guarantees meant. But even knowing that didn’t make Dicey feel any different about anything—which puzzled her, because it didn’t make sense that it shouldn’t. Then she understood—it wasn’t guarantees she needed, or any of them needed, but chances, chances to take. Just the chance to take a chance.
And the eye to recognize it, she added.
The hand, to reach out and hold on to it—that, too.
And the heart, or the stomach, or wherever courage came from, she thought.
“Dicey?” Jeff asked. “What’s so funny?”
She couldn’t begin to explain, except with all the rest of her life. Well, she guessed now was the time to start. Now was always the only time. “I was just thinking,” Dicey said. “Do you want to hear?”
CYNTHIA VOIGT won the Newbery Medal for Dicey’s Song and a Newbery Honor for A Solitary Blue, both part of the beloved Tillerman Cycle. She is also the author of many other celebrated books for middle-grade and teen readers, including the Bad Girls series; Izzy, Willy-Nilly; and Jackaroo. She was awarded the Margaret A. Edwards Award in 1995 for her work in literature, and the Katahdin Award in 2003. She lives in Maine. You can visit her at cynthiavoigt.com.
Cover design by Debra Sfetsios-Conover
Cover illustration copyright © 2012 by Mick Wiggins
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster
New York
Ages 12 up
Watch videos, get extras, and read exclusives at
TEEN.SimonandSchuster.com
Books by Cynthia Voigt
THE BAD GIRLS SERIES
Bad Girls
Bad, Badder, Baddest
It’s Not Easy Being Bad
Bad Girls in Love
Bad Girls, Bad Girls, Whatcha Gonna Do?
THE TILLERMAN SERIES
Homecoming
Dicey’s Song
A Solitary Blue
The Runner
Come a Stranger
Sons from Afar
Seventeen Against the Dealer
THE KINGDOM SERIES
Jackaroo
On Fortune’s Wheel
The Wings of a Falcon
Elske
OTHER BOOKS
Building Blocks
The Callender Papers
David and Jonathan
Izzy, Willy-Nilly
Orfe
Tell Me if the Lovers Are Losers
Tree by Leaf
The Vandemark Mummy
When She Hollers
ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1989 by Cynthia Voigt
Lyrics from “Summer Wages,” by Ian Tyson, © 1966 Warner Bros. Inc. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.
“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” by Ewan MacColl, © 1962 by Stormking Music Inc. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.
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Also available in an Atheneum Books for Young Readers hardcover edition
Book design by Debra Sfetsios-Conover
The text for this book is set in Baskerville.
First Atheneum Books for Young Readers paperback edition July 2012
The Library of Congres
s has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Voigt, Cynthia.
Seventeen against the dealer.
Summary: Dicey struggles to make a go of a boatbuilding business while facing family concerns, romantic problems, and the uncertainties of a drifter who offers to help her in her work.
ISBN 978-0-689-31497-1
[1. Family problems—Fiction.] Title.
PZ7.V874Se 1989
[Fic]—dc19 88-27488 CIP AC
ISBN 978-1-4424-5064-6 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-2884-3 (pbk)
ISBN-13: 9781442489196 (eBook)
Seventeen Against the Dealer Page 22