A Million Miles from Boston

by Karen Day

  She’d died from a stage four glioblastoma. I didn’t know these words until later. At first, everyone called it cancer. Rhymed with dancer. The beginning sounded like the first part of Kansas.

  One day Mom was fine, the next day she had cancer and a year later she was gone. In between, there were treatments, surgery and hospitals, although it was all pretty hazy in my mind. And it never made sense. How could a little tumor have killed my mom?

  Then one day this year, Jenny looked up from the newspaper. “This guy died from a glioblastoma, like your mom.” I’d heard the word before. But it wasn’t until I looked it up on the Internet that I knew exactly what it was: the most malignant of the astrocytomas, which are star-shaped brain tumors.

  Malignant. Glioblastoma. Astrocytomas. Blaming such big, ugly words for what happened to Mom made me feel better. Although sometimes when I said them, I felt a twinge, like what happened when you had to keep reminding yourself that there was no such thing as ghosts.

  “Good morning!” Dad grinned as he walked into the kitchen. Bucky and I mumbled hello through mouthfuls of cereal.

  As Dad made coffee, he said, “Enjoy the sunshine. Rain is supposed to start this afternoon.”

  I groaned. Camp was much easier outside. And I didn’t want any more water damage to the Big House.

  “So, what did you think about yesterday?” he asked. “Julia?”

  “I like her!” Bucky waved his spoon. I frowned at him but he didn’t notice.

  “She likes you, too. And she really likes it here.”

  I glanced at the clock: a half hour until camp. Afterward Superior and I were headed to the beach so I could finish my eagle drawing.

  “What did you think, Goose?”

  Don’t make him angry, I thought. I shrugged.

  “I really, really like her, guys.” Dad smiled as he poured a cup of coffee. I started for the porch before he could go on.

  “Come on, Superior, Buck,” I called. “Time to go.”

  * * *

  The rain started that night. By Wednesday morning at breakfast, everything was soaked. The cottage was damp and sticky and towels wouldn’t dry. Waterlogged tree branches dipped over the road, and a giant puddle covered the walkway.

  “You can call off camp,” Dad said.

  I shook my head. “Friendship bracelets,” I said, showing him my bag filled with colored string. The boys wouldn’t like making bracelets, and it might be hard for the little ones, but I’d help.

  Dad gave me a hug. “Those kids are lucky to have you.”

  I leaned against him for a second, my head resting on his chest.

  “Let’s go.” Bucky poked me.

  By eleven the rain had stopped, but it was too muddy to go outside. We’d used the last of the paints and made bracelets. Everybody started running around, and Becca skidded on Poley, Lauren’s stuffed polar bear, tearing off her leg.

  Stuffing fell out of Poley’s leg when I picked her up. I knelt in front of Lauren, who was crying. “I bet your mom can sew it.”

  She looked at me hopefully. “If I wish hard, Poley’s leg will grow back on.”

  Wishes could come true. When I’d wished for a dog, Dad had brought Superior home. I took Lauren’s hand and walked to the porch. “Look how pretty it is now!”

  The sun, peeking through the clouds, made the puddle on the swing seat sparkle. The air smelled like pine and freshly cut grass.

  “Boo!”

  I jumped. Ian came around the corner, his sneakers covered in mud, his gym shorts hanging past his knees. Lauren giggled, and I laughed, just a little. “You scared me.”

  Ian looked over my shoulder into the Big House. The older kids were still chasing each other. Olivia, on her hands and knees, barked at Superior, who ate pretzels off the floor. “Pretty exciting camp.”

  “We’re taking a break.”

  “Ian, watch this!” Peter ran across the floor and knocked Becca into the wall. But not too hard.

  “Nice check!” Ian yelled. The kids kept running as Superior trotted over to us.

  “She always knows where you are,” Ian said, squatting. Superior stepped toward him.

  “Come here!” She turned and sat next to me. I glanced at my watch. “Okay, time to clean up!”

  Everyone groaned. But for the next couple of minutes, we stuffed newspapers, juice boxes and pretzel bags into the trash. Ian stayed on the porch while everyone left.

  I was closing the door when Dad came across the field. He raised his arms. “The sun, finally! Hello, Ian. Nice to see you.”

  “Nice to see you, Dr. Gallagher.” Ian thrust his hand out.

  Dad shook it. “Call me Ben.”

  “Thanks. I was wondering how the book is coming along. That’s pretty impressive, knowing so much about something that you could write a book about it.”

  I rolled my eyes. Such a suck-up!

  Dad grinned. “Well, I don’t know …”

  “I’d sure like to hear more about it sometime,” Ian said.

  “Time to go.” I started down the steps, two at a time.

  “Hold on. It’ll be a bit muddy but I came over to see if you want to go out to Pear.” Dad turned to Ian. “It’s our favorite island. Want to come?”

  My eyes jumped out of their sockets. Not Ian!

  “Sure, okay!” Ian grinned.

  “Go clear it with your folks, then meet us at our dock.”

  Ian took off through the field. As Dad and I started back to the cottage, I walked ahead, my arms pumping at my sides, my face and body hot.

  “So, I guess I shouldn’t have asked him?” Dad caught up to me. “You’re the only kid his age here, Goose. I was trying to be nice.”

  “I know.” I kept walking. Dad would see soon enough who Ian really was.

  We made sandwiches and filled a cooler with sodas, then carried everything to the boat, where Ian was waiting. I untied the ropes and we were off. I sat next to Dad, protected by the windshield, where I could hold on to the side of the boat.

  Ian stood next to Dad, asking questions. What did that lever do? And that gauge? How far was it to Pear? How fast would the boat go? What kind of gas did it take?

  Every time we hit a wave, my stomach leaped. Ian wasn’t afraid of the water. Neither were Dad and Bucky. Superior was in the back, barking at the wake. She wasn’t afraid, either. It was her game. I’ll get you! And you!

  I glanced across the bay. Two years earlier an author had given a workshop at our school and told us to write about a time when we were afraid.

  At first I didn’t know what to write. Then I thought about Katie Recht’s sixth birthday party, at her pool with the big blue slide, and how I’d really wanted to go. It had been hot that day and I’d been happy to be there, not at the hospital seeing Mom.

  And I remembered not being able to breathe.

  So I figured that I must have gone down that slide and landed wrong in the water. And maybe that had knocked the air out of me. That was why I’d felt as if I were sinking. And that was why Dad had carried me to the car while Mrs. Recht had cried.

  But this was where everything got confusing, because Dad was supposed to be at the hospital. And I still couldn’t quite picture the pool in my mind.

  But I remembered the feeling of not being able to breathe, so that was what I wrote about. How scared I’d been when I’d nearly drowned in the Rechts’ pool.

  Now I held on tight as the boat bounced in the water.

  Finally Dad slowed, cut the engine and threw out the anchor. We waded to shore, then sat and ate our sandwiches, our feet and legs drying in the hot sun.

  I couldn’t stop watching Ian and noticing things about him. How he took huge bites of his sandwich. How long and thin his fingers were, wrapped around the bread. How everything was familiar—the boat ride, the cold prickles on my legs, the sand—but felt different with him here.

  Dad and Bucky wandered up the shore, turning over rocks, looking for crabs.

  Ian wadded his waxed
paper and tossed it into the cooler. “Score!”

  He smiled at me, a big toothy grin that made me smile back. Then we both looked away.

  “Let’s go to the top of the hill!” Bucky yelled. Ian and I jumped up and followed.

  The path was narrow and we walked uphill single file. Dad kept turning to Ian, behind Bucky. “This is an oak, one of Maine’s most common foliage trees. Down there, blueberry bushes. Soon they’ll be crawling with wild blueberries.”

  “You can eat them?” Ian asked. Dad nodded.

  Ian grinned at me again, only this time it seemed more like a smirk. He was two different people—one way with me, another with adults.

  A half hour later we reached the top of the hill, an open, grassy area that faced the bay between Pear and the Point. The wind was strong, the water choppier and a deeper blue than when we’d come over.

  “Ian, look!” Bucky called from the far side of the clearing. Ian ran over and they looked at something in the grass. Superior sat next to me.

  Dad laughed. “He’s a funny kid. Lots of energy.”

  “He’s a huge suck-up, Dad.”

  “Hmmm. But his enthusiasm is infectious. Don’t you think?”

  Infection? Yes.

  “He’s interested in boats, history. He seems like a hard worker.” Dad cleared his throat. “The talent show is next weekend.”

  “I can’t wait!”

  “I want to ask Julia to come up.”

  I whipped my head to look at him. “But she was just here.”

  “I miss her. We have very deep feelings for each other, Goose.”

  My stomach turned.

  “She’s a nice person. And, well, we have a lot in common. I’d like to see her more, for all of us to see her more.”

  I was so angry I was afraid to look at him.

  He waited. “Why don’t you like her? Do you think your feelings about her are … about Mom?”

  “No!” How could he put the PT in the same sentence as Mom?

  “I just wish …,” he said. “Oh, Goose, you don’t have to be so worried.”

  “Stop telling me that!”

  Bucky yelled, “Lucy! Come look!” I bolted from the spot.

  e planned to meet Mei’s family fifteen minutes away, at the Dunkin’ Donuts near the highway, and bring Mei back to the Point. We got there first. I couldn’t wait!

  When she arrived, we jumped out of our cars and hugged. She was dressed just like me, in flip-flops, shorts and a T-shirt. She bent over and held out her hand to Superior, who sniffed, then moved next to me.

  We said good-bye to her family, then climbed into our car, Superior between us. Most of the times when Mei came to our house, Dad was working, so they didn’t really know each other.

  For some reason, I felt nervous. Maybe she was, too, because we couldn’t stop laughing at little things.

  When Superior squeaked as she yawned, we doubled up, hysterical.

  “Am I missing something?” Dad glanced in the rear-view mirror.

  That cracked us up, too.

  But when Dad turned onto the dirt road and we drove through the tunnel of pine trees, Mei lowered her window, watching, quiet. I pointed to the Grahams’ cottage, and the Dennises’, then the Debacle.

  When we rounded the bend, I said, “There’s our cottage.”

  She squeezed my arm. “There’s the ocean! Lucy, it’s so awesome!”

  Dad turned and grinned at me. He liked Mei; I could tell.

  We dumped Mei’s stuff in my room and packed lunch into my backpack. Then Superior and I showed her the Big House, the swampy woods, the path to town and the beach. We climbed over the rocks, looking for crabs and running our fingers over the snails.

  The wind was so strong that it blew our hair sideways. Superior barked at the waves that splashed onto the rocks at our feet. We sat and tried to eat lunch, although the wind nearly tore the sandwiches from our hands.

  Mei stood and spread her arms wide. “It’s gonna blow me away!”

  I laughed. “You’re too heavy.”

  “I can pretend.” She closed her eyes and tipped back her head. The wind tangled her hair and puffed out her shirt. “Come on, let’s be birds.”

  She flapped her arms up and down, like wings. I glanced around; no one was here except us. I stood and started flapping my arms, too. Then a big wave hit the rocks, sending a cold spray all over us, and we screamed and burst out laughing.

  Finally I picked up my backpack and we started toward the shore.

  “Show me Ian’s house, up close,” she said.

  I shook my head. There was nowhere to hide if he caught us in his backyard. We walked up the beach to the path.

  “I can’t come here and not see his house,” Mei said. “And the new dock.”

  If we went through the Dennises’ backyard, maybe we could avoid him. “Okay.”

  We walked down the road, turning at the bend. The Debacle stood ahead, covered in shadows from nearby trees. We passed it, then circled back behind the Dennises’ cottage. We stopped at a birch tree that bordered the two properties and watched.

  “I don’t think anyone’s home,” I said. Mei walked around the tree and into Ian’s yard. I followed. The windows were closed, blinds drawn.

  “The dock is huge,” she said. “And look at all the windows.”

  “Yeah, but do you think it fits in?” I asked.

  “Hello? Not!”

  We giggled.

  “Let’s go,” I said. This time we walked up Ian’s yard and along the side of his garage. I was so close that I dragged my fingers on the shingles. The garage door opened just as we started around the corner.

  We screamed, then pressed our backs against the wall. Superior barked at us and wouldn’t stop.

  Ian walked around the side. “What are you doing?”

  Mei pulled away but I sank to my knees, holding Superior, who licked my face.

  “Oh, hi, Ian,” Mei said.

  “Why are you here?” He glared at me.

  “I’m visiting Lucy,” she said.

  “No, I mean, what are you doing at my house?”

  “I was just showing her around.” I stood. “The beach, the Dennises’ cottage, your new dock and stuff.”

  “Oh.” We just stood there, not looking at each other.

  “We should go,” I said. “Bye.”

  “Bye!” Mei said.

  “See ya,” Ian said.

  We walked down the driveway. Once on the road, we ran, trying not to laugh, and didn’t stop until we rounded the bend.

  “Whoa, that was awkward.” I sucked in big breaths.

  “Yeah, but he was okay.”

  I looked at her. Annoying. Jerk. Back home, those were just two of the names she called him. But she was right. We’d been spying and he could have been awful about it.

  Later Dad cooked lobsters out back, next to the picnic table. Bucky showed Mei how to crack the shells—she’d never had a lobster before—and we all cracked up when she accidentally flung a claw across the table at him.

  Then we roasted marshmallows over the fire pit and looked for shooting stars. Mei and I were exhausted when we finally crawled into sleeping bags. Superior, her back squished to mine, fell asleep instantly. Mei and I listened as the wind stirred the boats and the trees and shook my screens.

  “I could pretty much live up here,” Mei said. “Even with Ian.”

  “He was okay today.”

  “But usually he’s so annoying. Right?”

  “Right.” I sighed and thought about the last time Mei and I had talked, on the bus while visiting the middle school. “Are you still dreading Duggan?”

  “My parents are getting me a math tutor, so I guess that’ll help.”

  Up here I hadn’t thought much about school. But it was only six weeks away.

  For now, everything was perfect.

  In the morning I had just enough time to show Mei one more place.

  We ran past the swamp, through the parking l
ot, then up the wooden stairs to the deck outside the marina store. The air was warm, and the salty smell so strong you could almost taste it.

  Below us an old fishing boat was tied to a post. Pete, the marina owner, and Jake Ramsey stacked lobster traps on the dock. Mei watched, her mouth falling open.

  I laughed. “Those are just lobster cages.”

  “No.” Mei shook her head. “Who’s that cute guy?”

  “Jake Ramsey, Henry’s brother.”

  Jake stood straight and stretched. He wore jeans and no shirt and his tan muscles glistened in the sun. He was great-looking, even though he was old. He went to college and had a summer job in Boston, so he was only here on weekends. I used to imagine that he and Kiki would get married someday but Dad said they were just good friends.

  I walked over to the window and looked into the store. Kiki, the real reason I’d brought Mei here, stood behind the counter. I whispered, “Kiki’s here.”

  Mei hurried over. Kiki was making something with red tissue paper. She wore a blue Pete’s Marina T-shirt and her long red hair was pulled into a ponytail.

  Most kids on the Point wanted to work at Pete’s when they got older, but only a few ever got the best job: manning the counter. You had to work your way up, cleaning traps and doing yard work.

  Kiki turned her head toward us and we dropped to the deck, giggling.

  “Let’s go in,” Mei said.

  It was the perfect chance. Kiki was alone. “Okay.”

  I told Superior to sit—she wasn’t allowed in—and opened the door. A blast of cold air from the air conditioner blew back our hair.

  “Hey, Lucy!” Kiki looked down at the flower she was making out of tissues.

  “Hey.” Buckets of candy lined the shelf under the counter. When I was younger, I loved filling a bag, then eating the candy as Dad, Mom and I walked back to the cottage.

  “What’s going on?”

  “This is my friend Mei. She’s visiting from Boston.”

  “Hi.” Kiki smiled. “Is this your first time at the Point?”

  Mei nodded.

  The door opened and an elderly man came in. “Hey, Kiki.”

  “Hey, Mr. Selfors. You get something down below?”