Relic

by Gretchen McNeil

  Before I can respond, Terrence is on his feet. “At your service, madam,” he says, in a fake British accent. He sprints into the shallow water, grips the rail with one hand, and vaults onto the deck, nearly careening into Sonya. She stumbles back, tray of meat wobbling, but Terrence deftly lifts it from her hands and spins around like a dancer in a musical number, tray held high above his head, without losing a single hot dog. He offers her his free arm, bending slightly at the waist. “This way, lovely lady.”

  Sonya’s hand flies to her mouth and she immediately begins gnawing at a fingernail. But then, in a move that takes me completely by surprise, she tentatively slips her arm into his and lets Terrence lead her back to the grill. Maybe my mantra is rubbing off on Sonya after all?

  “Never fear, the wood is here!” Rob lumbers up to the improvised fire pit and dumps an armful of kindling into the circle. Jack and Graham follow suit and before long, we have a raging fire.

  As Terrence helps Greer and Sonya at the barbecue, Rob brings a pair of wireless speakers down to the beach and cranks up the music.

  “Loud enough?” Frankie shouts over the blaring guitars.

  Rob pops open a beer and hands it to her. “Here, drink this. You’re less of a bitch when you’re drunk.”

  “And you’re better-looking,” she replies.

  Between the bickering and the music, we don’t hear the powerboat coming until it buzzes the beach. The horsepower of the engine drowns out Rob’s thrash metal as the boat whips past the bay, filling the shallow flats with its wake. The houseboat rocks so violently, Sonya and Terrence have to grab the plates of food to keep them from pitching overboard.

  “Shit!” Rob yells, silencing the music.

  Terrence hops onto the beach and jogs along the water’s edge, gazing after the departed boat. “Lake Patrol.”

  Sonya grips the rail. “You sure?” I can hear the panic in her voice. Though neither of our parents work Lake Patrol, every deputy in the county technically works for my dad, and the odds of one of them recognizing Sonya or me is high.

  Terrence nods sagely. “Saw the floodlights mounted on the cab.”

  “Shit!” Rob repeats.

  “Do you think they saw us?” Sonya says, gnawing at her pinky finger again. “Do you think they know we’ve got illegal substances?”

  “Shh.” Jack joins Terrence at the water’s edge, the waves lapping at their bare feet. We all listen, straining to catch the sound of the speedboat.

  I hold my breath, ears alert. Maybe they didn’t see us? They probably couldn’t hear the music over the boat’s engine, and with daylight still lingering, the campfire and the lights on the houseboat wouldn’t be as noticeable. It was a logical argument I was having with myself, though futile. I know only too well that the two-man Lake Patrol teams are on high alert for underage drinking and drug use on the lake once summer rolls around. So it’s no surprise when I hear the high buzz of the speedboat, growing louder by the second as it makes a beeline back to the island.

  “Grab the booze,” Jack yells. He runs to the cooler and pulls out an armful of beer. “Hide it in the woods.” Without another word, he sprints for the treeline.

  Rob, Graham, and I are right behind him. Graham uses his hoodie as a sling, holding the bottom away from his body while Rob loads it up with beer bottles. As Graham waddles toward the trees, Rob yanks two magnums of vodka out of the cooler and shoves them in my arms, then points at Terrence. “T-Man,” he shouts. “Toss me your stash.”

  Terrence pulls a plastic baggie from one of the pockets in his cargo shorts and tosses it to him. “Good call, man.”

  I scramble across the rocky beach in my flip-flops, stumbling on the jagged, golf ball–sized stones that look more at home on the lunar surface than Northern California, and pray I don’t drop a bottle and send a cascade of Absolut trickling back down to shore.

  We find Jack crouched behind a fallen tree about ten feet into the woods. “You get all of it?”

  “Yeah,” Rob says, panting, as he jogs up behind me. “And T-Man’s weed.”

  “Shove them back here.” Jack points to a hollow behind a rotten stump. Carefully, Graham lowers himself to his knees and allows the bottles to roll out of his sweatshirt hammock into the hovel. Rob tosses Terrence’s supply into the pile, then adds the last of the beers.

  “Back to the camp,” Jack says quickly. “Act normal and stick to the plan.”

  Rob and Graham race down to the beach, while Jack carefully takes the bottles from my hands. He wiggles them into the soft top layer of soil, then glances up at me with a smile. “Don’t worry, Annie,” he says, reading my mind.

  “What if they recognize me?” I ask. “Or Sonya?”

  He places his hands on either side of my face. “Like I said, just stick to the plan. Rob’s the only one who brought his ID and the only one who’s not underage.”

  Jack is temporarily illuminated by a glaring light, which sweeps across his dark features from right to left, then stops dead on the craggly limbs of a nearby manzanita. Through the trees, we can see the patrol boat ease up to the beach.

  Without a word, Jack leans down and kisses me. It’s wet and soft, and not at all delicate. His lips veer off to the left, nuzzling my cheek, and I can feel that he’s kissed off all my lip gloss.

  “For authenticity.” He unties his swim trunks. “Come on. Let’s go put on a show.”

  SIX

  JACK LEADS ME ACROSS THE UNEVEN BEACH, HIS GRIP ON MY hand strong and confident as he saunters toward the campfire. My uneasiness fades; I’m leeching courage through his skin, and by the time we approach the two deputies standing at the edge of the crackling campfire, I’m feeling cocky.

  “Good evening, officers.” Jack swings our hands back and forth playfully.

  “Evening,” one of the deputies says. His double chin bulges with the nod of his head, and though his face is still in shadow, I can make out the olive green pants and jacket with a yellow patch on the shoulder, standard issue for the Shasta County Lake Patrol.

  “Anything we can do for you?” I ask, smiling broadly. I see the deputy’s eyes shift from my face to Jack’s untied swim trunks, and I can actually pinpoint the moment he writes off our absence to sexy times in the forest as opposed to hiding contraband. I feel badass, like a World War II spy conning my way past a Nazi checkpoint. See? I can totally be the ballsy, no-regrets kind of girl I’ve always wanted to be.

  Rob clears his throat. “Deputy Weller here was just asking if we have any alcohol on the boat,” he says slowly, as if wanting to make sure Jack understands each and every syllable.

  “No, sir,” Jack says easily. “Most of us are underage.”

  “Most?” Deputy Weller steps closer to the fire, illuminating the hard, pinched features of his round face. His thinning, close-cropped hair pulls away from a waxy forehead, and the silver in his thick mustache has muscled out the brown. He wears frameless glasses, lenses square cut at the corners, emphasizing the harshness of a face that seems unused to smiling, and his dark eyes stare blankly at Jack, utterly unreadable. “How did you rent the houseboat if you’re underage?”

  “David,” Jack says, nodding at Rob, “is twenty-one.”

  Deputy Weller turns to Rob. “Is that so?”

  Without a word, Rob whips his wallet from his pocket and hands the deputy his brother’s ID.

  “David Kang?” he says.

  “That’s me,” Rob replies. “Fourteen fifty-seven Redwood Ridge, Redding, California.”

  Deputy Weller yanks his hand from his belt and I flinch, half expecting to see a gun pointed directly at us. But instead, a narrow beam of light dances across Rob’s features. A pen flashlight. Like the ball at a tennis match, the yellow beam bounces back and forth between the face on the ID and Rob’s asinine smile. Beside me, I can feel Jack holding his breath.

  It’s a gamble, of course, using David’s unexpired California ID. We’re banking on the fact that Rob and his older brother share a striking resemb
lance, and on Rob’s constant assertion that to white people, all Asians look alike. So far, it’s worked perfectly, both at the liquor store and at the boat rental office. But the stakes are higher now, and the man scrutinizing David’s license is a professional, trained to sniff out fake IDs used by high school students boozing it up on the lake.

  The seconds stretch on as Deputy Weller continues to examine Rob’s face, then he suddenly thrusts the ID back to him. “And the rest of you?”

  As if on cue, we all start patting ourselves down, searching for our IDs.

  “I left my purse at home,” I say, going with the plan we’d discussed earlier.

  Sonya follows my lead. “Me too.”

  “We lost ours,” Greer and Graham say in creepy twin unison, the busted-teenager equivalent of the dog ate my homework.

  “I left mine in my other pants,” Terrence says with a hint of a laugh. I want to punch him. The last thing we need to do is antagonize local law enforcement.

  The beam from Deputy Weller’s flashlight pans across our faces. “So none of the rest of you have ID?”

  “No, sir,” I say.

  The flashlight beam blinds me and I squint against its brightness. Am I being paranoid, or does Deputy Weller spend an inordinate amount of time staring at me? I fight back the blush threatening to race up my chest to my face. He recognizes you. He knows who you are. Shit, he’s going to call my dad right here and now and I’ll spend the rest of the summer grounded in solitary confinement, unable to—

  “Lay off, Weller,” the other deputy says. “These kids are cool.”

  The light vanishes from my face, leaving a fiery dot branded into my corneas. As my night vision returns, I notice the other deputy. He wears tinted aviator glasses despite the darkness of the night, and though I can’t see his eyes, his attention appears to be fixed on Frankie reclining in her chair, smiling at him through demurely lowered lashes.

  He returns her smile. “It’s getting late,” he says. “Let’s head back to the station.”

  Maybe having the hot girl along will pay off after all?

  Deputy Weller doesn’t move. “We should search the boat, Flynn.”

  “For what?” Deputy Flynn shrugs. “The ID checks out; the cooler is clean.”

  I let out a slow breath, sensing victory. It probably hasn’t been so long since Deputy Flynn and his buddies houseboated on Shasta Lake using an ID of questionable authenticity.

  Deputy Weller narrows his eyes. “Something’s not right here.” The light from the campfire dances against his glasses obscuring his eyes, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s staring directly at me again.

  “They’re just college kids home for the summer,” Flynn says.

  “Like the ones we busted up at the mine yesterday?”

  Flynn sighs. “Shift’s over. Let’s go home.”

  Weller pauses as Flynn climbs into the boat. “Fine,” he mutters at last. “But a word of warning. As I’m sure you’ve heard, the drought has severely lowered the water level of the lake. Several of the old copper mines are now exposed, and we’ve already arrested a couple of thrill seekers trying to investigate the caverns.”

  I swallow. The exact reason we’ve come to the lake this weekend.

  “The mines are government property,” he continues, his finger in Jack’s face. “And they are off-limits. Under no circumstances are civilians allowed anywhere near the caves. Do you understand?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” Terrence barks, doing his best basic training impression.

  Deputy Weller whirls on him. “Do you think this is funny?”

  Terrence shifts his feet away. “Chill out, dude.”

  “Weller!” Flynn calls from the boat. The engine shudders as he turns the ignition key.

  “I’ll personally throw your asses in jail,” Weller says, swinging around to each of us in turn, “if I catch any of you within a quarter mile of those caverns.” He pauses, his finger pointing at me. “Especially Bull Valley Mine.”

  Then without another word, he leaps into the boat. Flynn pilots away from the shallow beach, and with an earsplitting roar, the sheriff’s deputies speed off into the night.

  SEVEN

  “DAMN, THAT WAS CLOSE,” JACK SAYS AS SOON AS THE SOUND of the powerboat fades into the night.

  Graham high-fives him. “Good job. The plan totally worked.”

  Frankie pushes herself out of her beach chair, snaking her way around the fire. “I think we all owe Jack a huge thank-you. He was the only one who didn’t panic.” With a swift, deliberate move, she plants a kiss on Jack’s cheek.

  If I could burn holes in solid objects with the force of my gaze, Frankie would now have two additional orifices in her head. I’m not sure who I’m more furious at: her or Jack, who doesn’t flinch away when her lips make contact with his skin.

  “He was the only one who didn’t panic,” Rob mocks in falsetto. He pulls up the legs of his swim trunks, hiking them so high his ass cheeks are hanging out, then prances across the beach like a runway model.

  “Jealous that Jack’s good in a crisis?” Frankie says, lashing out.

  “Jealous I won’t have him with me at college next year.” Rob holds out his fist. “It’s not going to be any fun without you, bro.”

  Jack returns the bump. “I seriously doubt that.”

  Frankie narrows her eyes at Rob. “Yes, Jack and I are going to have loads of fun this fall.”

  I freeze. This fall? What is she talking about?

  “Kinda hard,” Jack says, forcing a laugh, “when you’ll be on the other side of the country.”

  Frankie’s hand flies to her chest as she sucks in a quick breath. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m not going to NYU anymore.”

  “What?” I blurt out.

  “Where are you going?” Graham asks, leaning closer to her.

  Frankie’s eyes meet mine, a devious smile on her lips, and I know before she even speaks what the answer will be.

  “UC Davis,” she says without so much as a blink. “With Jack.”

  I sit cross-legged by the fire, huddled close for warmth. The sun has completely disappeared behind the tree line, and the dark purple hue is rapidly draining from the sky. Sonya was right. Now that the sun is gone, I can feel the chill settling in across the lake.

  A plastic plate loaded with hot dog and potato salad lies untouched in my lap, and though I haven’t eaten in hours, I suddenly have no appetite. Even the smoky scent of grilled meat doesn’t tempt me. I take a giant gulp of my vodka cran and try to ignore the mental filmstrip of Jack and Frankie frolicking their way across Davis that’s running through my mind.

  Sonya nudges my hip with her toe, and I skootch over, making room for her on the beach towel. She carefully screws her water bottle into the sand, then pulls out her smartphone as she kneels beside me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I take another sip. “A little worried, but okay.”

  “Me too.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I thought those deputies were going to arrest us for sure.”

  Oh, right, the Lake Patrol. I’d totally and completely forgotten about their visit. I shake myself, turning my attention to my best friend, who sits jittery and uneasy by my side.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I say. “We’re here to have fun, remember?”

  “Fun.” She runs her hands over her hair again. “Right.”

  Rob drains his beer and tosses it into an ever-growing pile between him and Jack. “I’m just glad we got rid of those cock knockers. God, I hate the Sheriff’s Office.” He clears his throat and glances up at Sonya and me. “Er, no offense.”

  I half smile. “None taken.”

  “Weird that he specifically mentioned Bull Valley Mine,” Jack says, staring absently into the fire.

  “Not really.” Sonya pulls out her phone, her nose inches from the screen, illuminated stark white against the soft orange glow of the fire. “Yesterday a couple of sophomores from Chico State were arrested for trespassing there.”r />
  “Those must be the college students Weller mentioned.” My eyes trail to her screen, where I see two mug shots—one male, one female. The guy smiles at the camera with an arrogant swagger, while the girl looks petrified, her dark hair bedraggled, eyes red and puffy, and deep worry lines creasing her forehead. There’s only one place Sonya could have found those photos, or the information about their arrest. She’s been using her mom’s log-in to access the police database.

  Which, I’d love to point out to her, is actually more illegal than what we’re doing this weekend, but I know that isn’t going to help her anxiety.

  “No shit, really?” Rob leans across Terrence to get a look at her screen. “How did you find that out?”

  Sonya quickly exits her browser. “G-Google,” she stutters.

  “Bullshit,” Rob says. “I Googled Bull Valley this morning to find directions to the entrance and didn’t find dick.”

  Sonya squirms and shoves her phone back into the pocket of her hoodie, her hand still clamped around it. She shrugs but doesn’t say a word.

  I reach over and push Rob’s head away. I’m not going to let him bully the secret out of her. “Based on what I’ve heard, I’m not surprised you couldn’t find your dick.”

  Rob collapses playfully into the sand. “Ouch, Kramer. You got me where it hurts.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this?” Greer says. “Maybe it’s dangerous?”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Frankie says, in her haughty know-it-all manner. She sits away from the fire, her face in shadow. “It’s just an old mine.”

  Greer wrings her hands, clearly distraught at being called out by her crush. “But they were arrested.”

  “No one’s going to arrest Sheriff Kramer’s daughter,” Jack says. “Right, Annie?”

  “Right,” I hear myself say. Are you really so sure about that?

  “It’s not the cops we have to worry about,” Terrence says. “It’s the mountain. I’ve heard some whacked-out stories.”