Caleb + Kate

by Cindy Martinusen-Coloma

  “Listen, Ted.” I say Ted like it’s the most ridiculous name ever, which it almost is. “I don’t know exactly how things work here, but I can show you how we settle things where I come from.”

  Ted is not a fighter. He’s a bully, but he’s not a fighter. He glances at Kate and then hops up. So he’s doing all this to impress Kate—that’s interesting. “I have a future beyond making repairs at some hotel.” He looks me up and down like I’m nothing, which is typical and rather funny to me.

  He walks off as if he’s not trying to get away fast, though I know that’s exactly what he’s doing. Women do not understand the inner workings of men. But then Kate goes after him, leaving me there with the pack of girls. What is she doing? Is she concerned about Ted being upset? What’s her problem—is she embarrassed to be around me?

  I turn away from them then. Adrenaline pumps through me, the urge to hit something pulses in my veins, but I keep it contained. I want nothing more than my motorcycle and miles of empty road.

  “He can be my handyman,” one of the girls says as I walk away.

  KATE

  “Pull!” Rachel yells as I pull the oars in unison with the other girls in the boat. Our arms move forward and back down as Rachel yells again. “Pull!”

  The shell glides swiftly across the lake. All thoughts are gone, just the steady rhythm of our hands on the oars, the back-and-forth motion of our bodies as we pull against the water. We strain and I feel sweat in my hair, while my cheeks are cold from the chill off the river.

  Practice has begun in my second year on Gaitlin’s women’s rowing team. Here on the water I at last found my passion— after years of pursuing other things, including dance and worthless music lessons. Much to the disappointment of my mother, I have no musical ability. I could practice and perform to a decent degree, but I was never going to be a professional singer, violinist, pianist, or conductor. Mom has a not-so-secret dream for one of her children to be a musician, and now those hopes are focused on Jake.

  Moving from music into sports, I dabbled again. Dad believes that organized sports instill the life skills of discipline and teamwork. I burned out on basketball and rugby pretty fast, and for a time I believed everyone was off my case about being “involved.” Dad said as long as I didn’t get into trouble, I could choose what I wanted to do in my spare time. Now I was on crew. With my love of water, it seemed the perfect choice.

  The precision was hard to adjust to. It’s one thing to run around a court or a field and work as a team. It’s quite another to cause every movement—even the inhaling and exhaling of my breath—to be in unison with eight other girls. Over time, we feel when someone is dragging or distracted.

  Someone will yell, “Stop thinking about your boyfriend, Michaela!” which sends a snicker through the crew because it was probably true.

  I force Caleb from my thoughts and after a while, it works. My body moves and I do the counts, keeping focused on our rhythm and the perfection of my pulls.

  There’s something just a little off, and Rachel, our crew leader, yells, “Katherine, get your head into it.”

  “Sorry,” she calls, and the boat cruises along stronger and faster. It’s exhilarating how we speed across the water; our pace increases and the boat appears to glide with simple stealth down the wide river.

  I focus, clear away everything else. No more jumble of emotions toward Caleb or rehashing the incident with Ted. No more thoughts about . . . love.

  “Pull!” Rachel yells.

  We fly across the finish buoy and cheer, knowing our time was great today.

  “Excellent, girls!” Coach Katner yells from the dock, her stopwatch in hand.

  “That could’ve been a contender for nationals,” Rachel says, looking up from her wristwatch.

  Caleb.

  That fast and he’s back. It’s taken such effort for me to keep him out of my head that I’m suddenly exhausted.

  I wonder where he is.

  Caleb didn’t show up for fourth period. I sent him a text asking where he was. He didn’t answer my first one.

  MY SECOND SAID: I’ll be held responsible if u are missing.

  CALEB RESPONDED: So I could get you in trouble?

  ME: Ms. Liberty will have my head. I’m already on student probation, remember. Nearly finished with it.

  CALEB: So I would have completed that probation. But if you fail at escorting this student, then you’re back on?

  ME: You sound like you’re enjoying this.

  CALEB: Yes. Immensely. Had appointment.

  ME: A dentist appointment? I thought Christians don’t lie?

  CALEB: Wasn’t a lie.

  ME: Then why don’t I believe you?

  CALEB: Really did have appointment. On my way back, I missed my exit, sort of.

  ME: Should I come looking for you?

  CALEB: Too far away. I’m eating fish & chips in some town in Washington.

  ME: You ditched school? On the first day?

  CALEB: Didn’t ditch, appointment and exit, like I said.

  There’s not much I could say to that.

  ME: Sounds suspicious. And I’m jealous. I’m sorry about Ted today.

  CALEB: No problem. What happened last year that got you on probation?

  I hesitated before answering.

  ME: I went to a party with Oliver. It was his first day with new Porsche. I didn’t have my license, just permit. Party was out of my league, his too. He was loaded, and I got scared. So I drove us home. We got caught. We’d left a school dance to go to the party and I was on leadership team. Supposed to be responsible.

  CALEB: You and Oliver got caught?

  ME: Ms. Liberty doesn’t know about Oliver. Only his parents. I couldn’t cover him with them, so he’s grounded from his Porsche till eighteen.

  He didn’t respond for a bit.

  CALEB: Sounds honorable to me.

  I couldn’t think how to respond, when he sent another text that saved me.

  CALEB: Gotta run, miles to go before I sleep.

  I spent the rest of the school day thinking of him riding along some coastal road, wishing I could talk to him again . . . but I no longer had an excuse.

  “Get some sleep,” Coach Katner calls as we carry our oars toward the equipment room.

  I race up the docks toward the women’s locker room, passing Katherine, who bends down to tie her shoe. I notice how thin she looks through her T-shirt. I haven’t talked to Katherine much since Saturday night, but Anne told me she has a new crush on Caleb after his rescue. She was talking to him in Spanish III and avoiding Blake. Katherine’s erratic behavior is starting to concern me, and now she’s crossed that line between thin and too thin. We all know she’s bulimic, but half the girls at school are to some extent, trying to manage it, keep it from taking an obvious toll. Now Katherine’s behavior is out of control. Last year, a senior went down a path like this and it supposedly ended with her disappearance into rehab or some kind of hospitalization— I’m never sure if these are real stories or just rampant gossip.

  After a quick shower, I turn the corner to the row with my locker and hear Emily say, “He’s really good-looking. You don’t see guys like him around here.”

  When she sees me, Emily asks, “Kate, what do you know about him?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I hardly know him.”

  “It didn’t look like that at prom,” Susanna says. The other girls laugh as Emily continues her questions.

  “He works at your hotel, for real?”

  I open my locker as the girls press closer. “Yep, he does.”

  “That’s crazy. A Gaitlin guy working a job like that.”

  Emily again, “So what’s going on between the two of you?” I knew this was coming. It always irritates me when the mob of girls demands information like this. “Nothing.”

  They look at me doubtfully as I quickly dress, knowing their eyes are sizing me up and down.

  Micheala actually laughs. “I told you she’d say t
hat.”

  “There really is nothing to say.”

  “You don’t meet him in the utility closet at the hotel?”

  Michaela asks. Now the other girls laugh.

  “Funny.”

  “After seeing him, I might just get a room and have him deliver my bags. I’ll give him a very nice tip too,” Natasha says with a sly smile on her lips.

  “So he’s fair game?” Emily asks.

  I shrug my shoulders. What do I say to that?

  “Aren’t all guys fair game to you, Em?”

  The girls laugh at that, and Emily isn’t even offended.

  “That would be a true statement. But the Hawaiian cabana boy—he’s definitely on my radar.”

  I sling my book bag over my shoulder and slide my feet into my shoes. “Cabana boy may not be interested in a Gaitlin girl.” It’s so irritating that they call him that. Thank you, Monica.

  “If he’s not interested in a Gaitlin girl yet, we’ll have to make some progress in that direction.” The other girls agree as I say good-bye.

  Oliver is reclined against a row of benches outside the marina gate, smoking a cigarette. “I thought you’d never get here,” he says drolly, opening his eyes.

  “I knew you wouldn’t quit.”

  He sits up, leaning his arms on his knees. “What else was I supposed to do? My ride was taking her sweet time.”

  “I didn’t take my sweet time, it’s called practice. And I’m not the only ride on the planet.”

  “Wow, testy today aren’t we? Rowing go poorly, love?”

  I shake my head and walk up the stairs; he has to hurry to catch up with me.

  “No. The locker room went poorly. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He pauses at a trash can, crushing his cigarette on the side and dropping it in.

  “You should’ve skipped out of practice, like I told you.”

  “I can’t miss it, and it’s part of your penance that you have to wait for me.”

  He shakes his head. “When is my penance paid for?”

  “Yours must last at least as long as mine does. It’s your fault that I got into trouble.”

  “I wish I’d just gotten caught, then I’d have paid the price up front and normal like.”

  “Yes, jail is exactly like that. You should have gone to jail instead of having to wait by a lake on a spring evening, smoking cigarettes and watching a bunch of seventeen-year-old girls sweating and rowing across a lake. Jail and a roommate named Bubba would’ve been much better.”

  “Okay, you have made your point.”

  I bite my lower lip to keep from laughing.

  “Bubba? Where did you come up with that one?”

  “It was in a movie, I think.”

  We both smile.

  “Hey, I’m going to warn you right now. Ted has set his sights directly on you, my dear.”

  “Well, that isn’t news. It’s only because he can’t have me, and he’s threatened by Caleb.”

  “I really think the guy is in love with you.”

  I laugh.

  “He could make life for your surfer guy miserable. Might become one of those if I can’t have you no one can.”

  “So Ted is now a crazy stalker guy who will kill me in my sleep.”

  “No, it’s more like Ted, the practicing politician, could get your man kicked out of school, which would mess with his college acceptance, and the snowball starts rolling.”

  We reach the school parking lot. I click the doors to unlock and the engine purrs to life from my handheld remote.

  “He’s not my man, by the way.”

  “I give you both a month. Just be careful. You don’t want to ruin the guy’s heart and his life over this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 1)

  CALEB

  Luckily, nobody is home when I get back from my long ride. I am not ready for the question of the day from Dad and my sister and whoever else might stop by.

  “How was your first day of school?” I don’t quite know how to answer that. Since Mom died and Dad moved here, I’ve been either at a boarding school or free to do whatever I want.

  I head for the garage, grab my board and wet suit, then make a quick stop inside for a towel, a few drinks, a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and the keys to Finn’s jeep.

  The blanket Kate wrapped up in and my leather jacket she wore are in the back seat of the jeep, and I try to fast lose the image of her riding beside me.

  I’ve got maybe an hour of good light on the water. The sun is making its way toward bedtime. The wind whips my hair as I drive, and I think, If only these days of a half day of school and no work could go on and on. I’d spend months on the road, surfing up and down the West Coast from Canada to Mexico.

  I’ve been checking out the local surf beaches and reading up on them online. But after my afternoon ride, I decide to stick close to home, driving down to a cove a few miles away.

  Within fifteen minutes, I’m stepping into the cold Pacific. Ignoring the shock of it, I jump onto my board and start paddling. Soon my body heat warms the water caught between my skin and the neoprene wet suit. I’ll never take the warm Hawaiian waters for granted again.

  A few other guys are already out there. One is coming in. He sits up on his board as I approach.

  “Hey, keep an eye on those two.” He’s an older surfer with gray hair and a sun-worn face. “I told them to head down to Indian Beach; they think they’ve got this.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll watch my back and keep an eye out for floaters.”

  The guy gives me a hang loose sign and takes off for shore. The two guys wave at me as I approach.

  “Dude!” one yells as the other paddles in front of a wave. He’s going to miss it, and he does, falling over as his board wavers flat behind the roll of the wave. The surf is too tight, cove too small, and rocks too prominent for these guys.

  I see the roll of a wave and make sure the other guys are beyond ripping in front of me and I turn on the board, paddling toward shore and with the rise. I pop up and feel the speed through my feet as I catch the wave and shoot forward. It’s a nice ride up toward the beach. The guys in the water are whooping and cheering like I just won some competition.

  Then I spot Finn sitting on my towel smoking a bowl. I wonder how he found me and which of his clunkers he’s driving, since I have his favorite ride. I unzip the back of my wet suit and carry my board on my shoulder toward Finn. He leans back and is laughing about something to himself.

  “Where’s your board?” I ask.

  “I traded it in,” he says, lifting the pipe. “So guess what the girls are calling you at your new school?”

  “I don’t care. I’m down here to escape those thoughts.”

  “Come on, this is great.”

  I set my board on edge in the sand and grab my towel, yanking hard so that Finn nearly drops his pipe. I wipe off my board, and look out at the guys getting beat by the larger waves coming in, waves I should be on instead of talking to Finn. My cousin is coming close to ruining a perfect afternoon.

  The waves are silver now and the sky is taking on its sunset attire.

  “Remember that girl I met after the prom?” Finn repacks his bowl as he talks.

  “Uh, no.”

  “That’s right. You took off with little hotel heiress. Anyway, I met a few girls, and one has been texting me. Another rich girl interested in a bad boy.”

  “And you would be the bad boy?”

  “They think you are too. You’ve got quite a group of fans. They were talking about you in the girls’ locker room.” He grins slyly at that. Then he takes a toke on his pipe. He doesn’t offer it to me, knowing my answer. Even if I wanted to get high, in Hawaii, I would’ve lost my job with Grandfather and probably my future. He has a zero-tolerance policy and regularly drug-tests his employees. Finn is still angry for getting the boot, though every
one is aware of Grandfather’s stand. Many Hawaiians are losing their futures to the proliferation of ice and other drugs on the islands. Grandfather won’t stand for any of it.

  The other two surfers rise out of the water. Their feet pad along the wet sand.

  “Wow, man, you ripped it up out there!”

  “Thanks,” I say, and try not to laugh. My friends back home and I would’ve considered this a barely mediocre—if not a bad—day in the water.

  Another shakes his head like he just survived a hurricane. “Those were some crazy beaters, man.”

  Finn has a look that I realize is a permanent fixture on his face: vicious competition, even cold jealousy. I noticed it when I first arrived a few weeks ago. Finn and I were always the closest cousins. At first, I thought it was something he was going through. He thinks I have it easy. He thinks I’m the favorite. He didn’t want to leave Hawaii, but Grandfather cut him off and he had no other choice. Truth is, our grandfather does prefer me, mainly because I’m not fast becoming a drug addict. Finn has always looked for the handout.

  “Cabana boy.”

  I turn and stare at him.

  “That’s what they’re calling you. The cabana boy. You know, the little guy who runs out and serves drinks or whatever the rich women need.”

  I shrug. “Great, cabana boy. Who doesn’t love the cabana boy?” I say it easily, but his words sting, and from the expression on Finn’s face, the satisfied look of triumph, he sees it too.

  “Your precious little boss’s daughter—ask her if she sees you as anything more than that.”

  “See you around, Finn.”

  I never liked rich girls who looked and acted like rich girls. In Hawaii the rich were mostly on vacation or cutting business deals. This life here, it’s different. More cruel, somehow.

  I want to put her in her place. I want her to know that she isn’t above me. For a brief few days, I was drawn in, I can’t deny it. I even thought . . . it doesn’t matter what I thought. I was nearly a fool.

  Finn is right, Grandfather, too, and that’s nearly the worst of it. Grandfather has always told me to distrust the Monrovi family. Finn said it would turn out this way—and before I can figure out what to do about Kate, it’s like this? Has she made me a fool to her friends? I won’t let it matter. It never would have mattered before.