Tangled

by Carolyn Mackler

  A little before ten, I came out of the bathroom. Skye was sitting cross-legged on her bed, watching TV.

  “I’m going for a walk,” I said casually.

  Skye studied my sarong (purchased from the gift shop earlier today with all my babysitting money) and my mom’s low-cut top (stolen from her closet). She raised her eyebrows and said, “Be careful.”

  There was no one at the beach, just a row of empty lounge chairs. It was darker than up by the pool and cool, with the breeze off the water. I hugged my arms around my chest. I could hear laughing from the bar area. I wondered if Dakota was scoring us those beers.

  When Dakota didn’t show after fifteen minutes, I crept up the lawn, past the pool, all the way to the edge of the bar. I could see my mom and Luce at a table in the far corner. Luce was tracing her finger around the edge of her glass. My mom was drinking from a pineapple. No sign of Dakota, though. I hurried back down to the beach.

  I sagged into a lounge chair and looked up at the palm trees and the starry sky. Dakota stood me up. He totally stood me up. He saw me at breakfast and decided he didn’t like the looks of me in the daylight.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” a voice said.

  I opened my eyes. I must have drifted off. Dakota was standing above me, a silver can in each hand and one jammed in each pocket, too.

  “Sorry it took so long,” he said as he settled onto the chair next to mine. “My mom got lost on the drive back and I kept saying she should let me take the wheel but she said no because it’s a rental car and we got into this argument and—” Dakota cracked open a beer. “Let’s just say I could really use this right now.”

  I was doing everything in my power not to fling myself into his arms and thank him for showing up.

  “Want one?” He held up a beer for me.

  I took a small taste (disgusting) and attempted not to wince (seriously disgusting). Dakota raised his drink to his lips and took a long swig.

  “Cheers,” he said, clinking cans with me. “Here’s to stupid lighthouses.”

  “To stupid lighthouses,” I chimed.

  There was a brief silence. I scanned my brain for something to say.

  “Are you in college?” I asked.

  “Next year. I’m going to Fredonia. I can’t wait to graduate and get the hell out of high school.”

  “You don’t like your high school?”

  “I like wrestling and baseball okay, but I don’t think anyone actually likes high school. Why…do you?”

  I was still processing the fact that I was on the beach with a guy who does wrestling and baseball (jocks never, ever talk to me at Topeka High) when Dakota said, “I bet you like school, right?”

  I sipped my beer (still disgusting). “I didn’t say that.”

  “I can tell. You’re one of those smart chicks who raises her hand all the time and the guys secretly want to fuck you and live out their librarian fantasies.”

  I can honestly say that the guys at my school do not want to do that, but I wasn’t about to tell Dakota. Let him think I’m in high demand. Let him think he’s landed a brainiac by day, sexpot by night (ha).

  After another silence, I said, “I didn’t find any more suicide notes today.”

  Dakota looked out at the water but didn’t say anything.

  “I still wonder who wrote it,” I added.

  “Could have been any person here. You never know how miserable people really are, even if they look happy on the surface.”

  I thought about this Thoreau line I had in my everything book. “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.” I considered mentioning it to Dakota, but after his librarian comment I opted to keep quiet.

  “We should go skinny-dipping,” Dakota said, nodding toward the ocean.

  I gaped at him. Was he seriously suggesting we strip off our clothes and go swimming? No way. Besides, if Dakota saw me naked he’d hardly call it skinny-dipping.

  “I didn’t think so,” Dakota said, reading my expression. Then he gestured to one of the raised tent structures. It was almost like a loft bed, with a mattress and everything, except it was enveloped by yards of gauzy fabric. “At least let’s go in there. It’s fucking cold down here.”

  Dakota opened a second beer, pulled back the curtain, and climbed inside. I set my can in the sand and followed him in. As I arranged my sarong over my knees, Dakota balanced his beer on the wooden frame.

  “Just so you know,” he said, grinning, “you have some fine-looking tits.”

  I nearly gagged on my tongue. But before I could recover, Dakota began kissing me. His mouth was cold from the beer. As we were making out, his fingers wandered up my back and expertly unhooked my bra, faster than I could do it myself. He’d just started feeling me up (oh my god, a guy was feeling me up) when he took one of my hands and pulled it down (oh, no) between his legs. The next thing I knew, Dakota was unzipping his shorts (oh, no) and pushing my hand (oh, no, no, no) inside the elastic band of his boxers.

  And there it was, pressing against my wrist. His boner. It was warm and firm and pulsing a little. And there was all this hair, much more than I thought a guy would have.

  I was in complete panic mode. My ears were swishing and I was having a hard time catching my breath. It’s not like I wanted Dakota to be a Ken doll (all hotness, no penis), but this was moving WAY too fast.

  I wriggled my hand out of his boxers.

  “Something wrong?” Dakota asked.

  “It’s just…” I yanked my shirt back down around my stomach. “I just…I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Evans,” Dakota said quickly.

  “Oh.”

  Dakota sighed. “I guess it sucks for me tonight.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, swallowing back tears.

  “I’m kidding.” Dakota grinned as he drank some beer. “But maybe you’ll at least consider letting me feel you up some more.”

  I thought he was joking, so I lay there quietly, unsure what to do. But then Dakota walked his fingers across my belly and eased my shirt back up again.

  nine

  The next morning, Luce insisted we visit this beach famous for its clear water and sugary white sand. I overheard Skye telling her mom that she’d rather stay at the resort, that she’d get carsick on the winding roads. Honestly, I was hoping to stay back, too, but it was our last full day so Luce declared it a mandatory outing.

  We left Paradise after breakfast and stopped in a nearby grocery store to load up on picnic supplies. As my mom and Luce cruised the aisles, Skye and I stood near the front. Skye was staring at a Spanish soap opera on a TV mounted from the ceiling. I was leaning against the wall, blinking back sleep.

  I didn’t go to bed last night until two twenty. Dakota and I had fooled around in that tent and then we just lay there listening to the ocean. The next thing I knew he was asleep. I stayed still for the longest time, watching him. His lips were parted, his arms slung by his sides. I couldn’t help wondering how many other girls have laid next to him like this. Dozens, I bet. Then I started obsessing about how Dakota is eighteen and maybe I should have given him that handjob after all and how I probably came across as totally inexperienced. What did I think a gorgeous eighteen-year-old guy was going to expect? An Eskimo kiss?

  “You got in late last night,” Skye said.

  I glanced at her. The soap opera had broken for a commercial and she was examining one of her manicured fingernails.

  “I guess,” I said.

  “Were you with that suburban guy?”

  “He’s from a small town,” I said. “Not a suburb.”

  “What’s up with you two?”

  “We were just hanging out,” I said.

  Skye shook her head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Skye said, looking up at the television again.

  When we piled back in the car, Skye climbed into the front seat. My mom was in the rear next to me. Almost immediately, she and Luce launched into a sing-along. I
rested my head against the window and closed my eyes. By the time we got to the beach, the sun was high in the sky. Luce parked the car under a grove of palm trees. I slid my feet into my flip-flops and we all grabbed our stuff and trekked toward the water.

  My mom and Luce lay some towels under a sprawling Tamarind tree. Skye dove into the shade. As she plugged in her earphones and the moms meandered down the beach in search of shells, I stared at the clear turquoise bay.

  I wanted to go in so badly.

  (But there’s no way I could strip down in front of Skye.)

  When would I get another chance to swim in calm Caribbean water?

  (But how could I deal with the humiliation of Skye seeing my body? I’d been so careful all week, changing in the bathroom, wearing long T-shirts and boxers to bed.)

  Then I reminded myself of Dakota. I thought about how much he’d swooned over my boobs. He basically didn’t take his hands off them the whole time we were kissing. And I wondered if maybe I’m not so bad after all. Maybe I’m actually a little bit luscious, like Grandma Belle says.

  Luscious, I thought. That’s what I’ll be. Not perfect. Not flawless. Luscious.

  I pulled up my shirt, kicked off my shorts, and jogged across the beach in my tankini. As I splashed into the salty water, I thought about what Dakota had told me that first night, how he liked to venture out in search of dangerous currents. My whole life, I’ve always picked the safe route, but maybe that’s starting to change. Maybe since meeting Dakota I’ve realized I need to live more, take more risks.

  I swam farther out and then turned onto my back. My body sank into the water. I took a deep breath, held it in my lungs, and floated to the surface again. The sun was fierce on my cheeks. The water was lapping around my ears. I exhaled, took another breath, and stared up at the sky.

  After a while, I did a mermaid dive and plunged as far into the water as I could go. When I bobbed up again, gasping for air, I thought, Let this be the start of a whole new Jena.

  When we got back to Paradise, my mom and Luce left for their spa appointments. I wrapped my new sarong over my tankini and grabbed my cards. As I headed down to the beach, I could feel myself walking differently, a little sway to my hips.

  Skye was stretched on a lounge chair in the shade, watching a show on her iPhone. With her oversized sunglasses and her hair twisted up, she looked every bit the glamorous movie star. Yesterday, I would have screeched on the brakes, U-turned, and parked at the pool area instead. But not the new me, with my top riding lusciously low, my skin clearing up from the sun, finally a little tan going on. The new me sat on the chair next to Skye and began shuffling my cards.

  A few minutes later, Dakota tapped my shoulder.

  “Hey!” I said. I couldn’t help it, but my pulse raced at the sight of him and I got an instant smile on my face.

  “I thought I saw you coming down here. What’s up?”

  “Not much.” Sound relaxed, I instructed myself. Be the new me. “We just got back a little while ago.”

  Dakota glanced over at Skye.

  “Oh, this is Skye,” I said as casually as possible. “Skye, this is Dakota.”

  Dakota nodded his chin in Skye’s direction. Skye said hi back to him.

  “Listen,” Dakota said to me. “I’m about to take that ferry out to the island. Want to come?”

  I glanced toward the dock, where the water taxi was throwing its rope. There was a family getting on and a guy already sitting inside.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “Right now?”

  “Come on, babe,” Dakota said. “It’s not like I’m asking you to elope. It’s only for an hour. The ferry comes back at five.”

  Skye giggled, and she and Dakota exchanged a brief glance. But the new me wasn’t going to obsess. Besides, he’d called me babe. How can anyone say no to babe?

  I turned to Skye. “Can you watch my stuff?”

  “Sure,” Skye said without looking up.

  Dakota and I dashed toward the dock. We arrived just as the captain was unhooking the rope. He muttered something to us in Spanish and rubbed his stubby fingers against his thumb. As Dakota pulled out some dollars, I said, “Oh, no!”

  “What?” Dakota asked.

  “I don’t have any money with me.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Dakota handed some more bills to the guy, leaped into the boat, and reached for my hand.

  As I climbed in next to him, I was smiling so hard. Dakota bought my ticket! Not only was he whisking me to a tropical island, he was paying my way, too.

  The ferry puttered into the bay. The captain was at the front, with the other people sitting directly behind him. That left Dakota and me by ourselves in the back row. I glanced over at him, wondering if we’d find a deserted spot on the island, maybe fool around. If things heated up, I wouldn’t freak out this time. I’d actually stopped by the business center and begged Ellie and Leora for advice. Leora instructed me to practice by getting a banana, holding it tightly, and running my fingers back and forth. I didn’t feel like sexually stimulating a piece of fruit, but I told her I got the point.

  “I’m going to jump off,” Dakota said to me.

  I turned to Dakota, startled out of my tropical-island hookup fantasy.

  “You’re what?” I asked. The wind was stronger out here so I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him correctly.

  Dakota ran his fingers along his seashell necklace. “I’m going to jump off, see if I can swim the rest of the way to the island.”

  I stared in disbelief. It was rough out here, choppy waves rising in every direction. Not to mention that there had to be sharks in these waters.

  “It’ll be fine,” Dakota said. “If I can’t make it, I’ll just swim back to shore.”

  Before I could say anything else, Dakota scaled the back railing and slid into the water. His head went under for a second and I could feel a scream erupting from the back of my throat. I wanted to shout for the captain to stop the boat or throw him a life preserver, but I knew I couldn’t. If I busted Dakota, he’d never talk to me again. Besides, the new me was cooler than that (even if it made me die of an anxiety attack).

  And so I watched, my heart pounding, as Dakota swam behind the boat. The waves were slapping into his face and his expression was strained. Please keep swimming, I willed him as the ferry pulled farther and farther ahead. Please be okay.

  We rounded the corner and I couldn’t see Dakota anymore. Even so, I kept glancing back at the water. The ferry docked at the island. As I made my way to the front, the captain grabbed me.

  “¿Dónde está ese muchacho?” he barked.

  I knew he was talking about Dakota but I shook my head as if I didn’t understand. Then I wriggled away from him, rubbing my arm where he’d squeezed me, and hopped onto the land. I could see the captain staring nervously into the ocean.

  I wandered down the path and settled on a stretch of beach that faced Paradise. I could hear people laughing and shrieking in the surf, but I didn’t move. I just looked out at the water, worried Dakota wasn’t showing up, worried he’d drowned. Maybe it’s selfish, but I also felt disappointed. I’d been hoping we’d wander around this island together. And here I was, no guy in sight. As usual.

  The ferry circled the bay, stopping at various docks. After an hour or so, it pulled up to the island again. By this time, I had to assume Dakota had swum back to the hotel. I brushed the sand off my butt and made my way to the boat. When I passed the captain, I avoided any eye contact. My arm was still hurting from where he’d grabbed me.

  The ferry rounded the bend. I could see Paradise in the distance, the green lawns, the long pool shimmering in the afternoon light. There were the raised tents, the beach, the narrow dock. As we got closer, I spotted Skye in her lounge chair just like before and then—

  Dakota was sitting in the chair next to hers.

  I got a horrible feeling in my stomach. As the captain threw the rope over the cleat, I sat there for a moment, not wanting to move.<
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  Somehow I made it off the boat. Somehow I walked down the dock, across the sand, and over to where Skye and Dakota were playing gin rummy. With my cards.

  “Hey!” Skye said, smiling at me like we were best friends.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Dakota glanced up. “The current was too intense. I had to turn around.”

  Skye grabbed the deck away from Dakota. “My deal!”

  “No way, bitch!” Dakota said, reaching over and tickling her perfect belly.

  I stood there, waiting. I’m not sure what for. Maybe for them to invite me to play cards with them, or to say they were just joking, that Dakota was still mine and Skye still didn’t care about talking to anyone. But neither of them said a word. My tankini was giving me a wedgie and my new sarong was too clingy and even though an hour ago I thought I was a luscious babe, I suddenly felt chunky and stupid.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I said quietly.

  “Oh, okay,” Dakota said, barely glancing up.

  I walked slowly to the room. When I got there, I collapsed facedown on the bed, my swimsuit still damp, my feet still crusted with sand.

  ten

  At first, I cried. Then I dozed off. Once I woke up, I started crying again.

  I couldn’t believe Skye had stolen Dakota from me. She knew we were hanging out. Plus, all she could say about him was that he was too suburban. And who could blame Dakota? Of course he’d ditch me as soon as Skye showed any interest.

  It was getting dark. I could see the orange sun glowing across the water. At some point, I heard a door open. A minute later, my mom peeked her head into the room.

  “Jena?” she asked. “Are you sleeping?”

  “Sort of,” I mumbled.

  “Are you almost ready for dinner? Luce and I are heading to the restaurant in a few minutes.”

  “What about Skye?”

  “She’s met some kids and she’s going with them to the phosphorescent bay.”

  My stomach clenched even tighter. “What kids?” I asked.

  “A boy named Dakota and his mom and brother. Nice people. They’re from Rochester. Want me to ask if you can join them?”