A Million Miles from Boston

by Karen Day

  “Ouch!” Lauren cried from the back room.

  “Everyone was playing.” I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see over the deli case into the back room. I sighed. “Kiki probably thinks I’m an awful camp director.”

  “You take that camp so seriously!” She laughed. “Listen, Kiki thinks you’re awesome. We were just talking about you this morning.”

  “Really?” I came down from my tiptoes.

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Kiki’s planning a surprise birthday party for Jake. Maybe you could be the one to get him to the Big House for us.”

  I smiled. “Sure. I’ll help!”

  “Want me to talk to Kiki about it?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Did Ian shoot the rubber band?” Allison asked.

  “No. But …”

  “But what? Did he do something else?”

  “Well, I think he broke …” A voice in my head told me to stop because I didn’t know for sure if Ian had broken the drill.

  “The rope swing?” Allison waved her hand at me. “That’s old news. Ian told us all about it, how you both jumped on it and the rope snapped.”

  “What?” I clenched my fists. “Ian broke that himself. I didn’t do it!”

  No wonder Mr. Richards didn’t believe me about his drill.

  Allison laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. No one’s mad anymore, right? And now you can enjoy a beautiful, brand-new swing. Everyone’s happy.”

  “Ian lied!” I was so angry that I felt as if my head were going to explode. “And know what else he did? He broke your dad’s drill and let me take the blame for it!”

  I told her what had happened.

  Allison whistled. “My dad was mad, huh?”

  “He thought one of the kids did it.”

  “Count on Ian to make trouble.” She shook her head.

  Kiki and Lauren appeared. Lauren had a small bandage on her cheek, a cup of ice in her hand.

  I put my arm around Lauren. “Thanks, Kiki.”

  “No problem.”

  “I was just telling Lucy how awesome her camp is,” Allison said.

  “I was never mature enough to run a camp like you do!” Kiki smiled at me.

  Outside, Ian was gone. I made Henry apologize to Lauren; then we walked back through the woods. Only this time the light wasn’t shining in such wonderful slants and the air felt humid. Ian wasn’t at the Big House.

  I showed Lauren’s welt to Mrs. Dennis, who said, “Oh, accidents will happen.”

  After everyone left, Superior and I walked home.

  I was still angry with Ian, but something started to not make sense. When I talked to Mr. Ramsey about the swing, he knew that Ian had broken it, not me. So maybe Ian had blamed it on me to his family and they hadn’t told anyone?

  Or maybe Allison had lied to me.

  t lunch the next day, Bucky, Henry and Dad were talking about World War II. Back in Boston Dad and Bucky watched war shows on the History Channel for hours.

  “Wouldn’t it be cool if President Roosevelt was right here and we could ask him tons of questions?” Bucky sat up straight. Henry nodded, his mouth full.

  Dad chuckled. “Think he’d remember everything?”

  “What do you mean?” Henry asked.

  “Sometimes as you get older, you remember what you want to remember, not necessarily how it actually happened. Your memory can play tricks on you.”

  But if that were true, how could you ever be sure what had really happened?

  Dad’s phone rang and he walked outside to answer. It was the PT, who was coming up again. Her friends in Portland must be sick of seeing her every weekend.

  I wasn’t hungry anymore. I picked up my notebook, and Superior and I walked to the dock. The sky was bright blue with batches of puffy white clouds. The air was cool and breezy and the dock rocked in the current.

  I wanted to use my imagination to draw. I closed my eyes. The seals: I saw their shiny coats, how their heads connected to their bodies with thick black necks. I opened my eyes and drew. I looked up when I heard voices.

  Ian and Mrs. Steele stood on the Steeles’ dock. Ian lifted the tarp on the kayak and squatted. Then Mrs. Steele turned, cupped her hands to her mouth and called, “Lucy! Come here!”

  Superior and I walked over to their dock.

  “Hello, you two,” Mrs. Steele said. “Ian’s here to look at the kayak.”

  She smiled at him but he kept his eyes lowered.

  “His dad told him that he must learn everything he can about kayaks before they buy one of their own. Why don’t you two take it out?”

  We both looked at Mrs. Steele.

  “Go on, go ahead,” she said. “The old girl hasn’t been out all season.”

  No way would I go out there with him. But I didn’t want him taking it out alone. He might wreck it. Or worse, he might like it. Then he’d be here every day.

  “Helen!” Mr. Steele stood at the top of the stairs. “I need your help!”

  “Oh, honestly.” Mrs. Steele sighed. “You two can figure this out. It’s easy.”

  Ian pulled paddles and life jackets from under the upside-down kayak. When Superior sniffed the life jackets, he smiled at her.

  I squatted next to her. I was still angry with Ian but I felt a little guilty, too. Had Allison told Ian or their dad what I’d said about the drill? Ian didn’t seem angry.

  But why should I apologize when he’d never apologized to me?

  Small ripples bounced against the dock, rocking it gently, as a sailboat motored into the bay. Superior walked to the edge of the wood, ears pricked.

  “You’re really lucky to have such a cool dog.”

  “I know. Thanks,” I said. “I thought you were going to sailing camp.”

  “I went for a couple days. Sailing’s kinda boring. I wanna try this.” He stood. “Help me.”

  We flipped the kayak over. It was a two-person ocean kayak, which meant you didn’t sit in a cockpit but on top. These kayaks didn’t tip as easily as regular kayaks, but they were still dangerous, especially if you’d never been on one.

  Ian put on a life jacket and zipped it to his chin. “Are you gonna go out with me?”

  I glanced at Superior. “I don’t want to leave her on the dock.”

  “She can come with us. There’s room. She can sit in the middle.”

  “She’ll just bark at the waves. Which might tip us.”

  “Whatever.”

  We carried the kayak to the edge of the dock and set it in the water. I held the bow while he climbed on top, then gave him a push. The kayak tipped side to side, but he steadied it as he paddled away.

  He’d need help lifting the kayak when he returned, so I waited.

  Twenty minutes later I saw him, his strokes even and strong, the kayak steadier. He looked comfortable, gliding on the water.

  “This is so cool!” He paddled up to the dock and I leaned over and held the bow. “But I can’t go very fast. It’d be better with two people. How do you turn?”

  We lifted the kayak onto the dock.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never, well, I’ve never gone kayaking.”

  “You’ve been coming here your whole life! What, you’re afraid of the water?” He laughed, unzipped his jacket and tossed it on the dock.

  He knew! Or was he joking? We covered the kayak, then climbed the stairs.

  “How was it?” Mrs. Steele called from their porch.

  “Great! Thank you so much. Can I use it again?” Ian grinned.

  “Sure,” Mr. Steele said. “Anytime!”

  “Bye.” Ian grinned again, then disappeared around the side of the cottage.

  I stomped back to my yard and dropped into my wagon under the birch tree. Ian had taken out the Steeles’ kayak. Big deal. What was wrong with me?

  I glanced down at the bay, which was still and blue. Kayaking must feel as if you were sitting right on the water. So close that you could touch it with your fingers. So close that
you felt like part of the water.

  I remembered Mom smiling on the dock, hand shading the sun. She’d loved the water. Had she liked kayaking? I wished I knew.

  Mrs. Richards had been in school when she’d gotten the news about her mom. She’d been where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to be doing. I’d been at a party, which I’d wanted to go to more than anything. I sighed.

  Dad walked around the corner and sat in the grass next to me. We hardly talked about the day Mom died. How it had happened. How he had told me. Probably because it was so sad.

  Had he been there when I’d gone down the slide? Who pulled me out of the water?

  “Remember the birthday party I went to the day Mom died?” I glanced at Dad but he seemed okay, so I kept going. “I was just thinking about that slide at their pool.”

  Dad frowned. “The Rechts? They didn’t have a slide.”

  I jerked my head to look at him. “But I remember one, a big blue slide.”

  “No, I’m sure. Mom and I’d been at that pool many times.”

  I reached for Superior.

  “Maybe you’re thinking of the Reecers’ pool. They hosted a party the year I coached your soccer team. They had a big slide. You girls were pretty intimidated by it.”

  “Oh.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I started to get up.

  Dad grabbed my arm. “Is camp okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. You know, well … I know we don’t always talk about things … I count on you, Goose. You’ve always been so darn capable. But Julia wonders if you might be …”

  I bolted from the yard.

  uperior and I were out before breakfast, wandering along the narrow shore underneath the stairs to the dock. We found a dead jellyfish the size of my hand. Mei sure would have loved to see this.

  The day before, she’d emailed. Earlier I’d written, saying that I wished we could stay at Taylor the next year, and this was what she said: Me 2. But we’ll be 2gether, right? Maybe we’ll be on the same team!!! Even if we’re not, we’ll sit 2gether at lunch!

  That made me smile.

  Then she wrote Guess who I saw at Star Market? Mrs. Jonas! She wanted 2 know if U are drawing. I said, YES!!! U should write her coz she wants to hear from U!

  Mrs. Jonas? Once I left Taylor, I thought I’d never talk to her again. I’d write soon, maybe even send her a drawing.

  I climbed onto the dock and opened my notebook. I’d made lots of drawings. Fish, mallards, geese, boats, docks, an eagle. Back in Boston I looked through this book every night before bed. The place I loved most was the last thing I saw before I slept.

  “Lucy!” Bucky stood at the top of the stairs. “Dad says we have to clean.”

  I closed my notebook and started up the stairs.

  “You’re up early.” Dad was at the kitchen table, spreading peanut butter on toast. I nodded and poured a bowl of cereal. “Julia will be here in a little while.”

  “Can we take her camping on Upper Egg?” Bucky asked.

  Dad glanced at me. “Sometime, Buck. The weather looks too iffy for tomorrow.”

  “Can we at least show her Pear?” Bucky asked. Dad nodded.

  “We’re not going to Pear,” I said.

  “Why not?” Bucky asked.

  “She doesn’t want to see it.”

  “How d’you know?”

  “Because she doesn’t need to see every little thing we do!” I yelled, then put my elbows on the table and sank my head into my hands.

  “Lucy.” Dad’s voice was so soft that I looked at him. Bucky looked, too. “Julia’s kind and generous and smart. And, well, I’m in love with her. She loves me, too.”

  Why couldn’t he just be happy with things as they were?

  “This doesn’t mean that I don’t still love Mom,” he said. “I’ll always love her.”

  “You love both of them.” Bucky said this as if it made perfect sense.

  I glared at him, then reached under the table for Superior.

  “I want to tell you about her,” Dad said. “How she grew up. When she married.”

  I held up my hand. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Are you going to get married?” Bucky asked, milk dripping from his mouth.

  I took a napkin across his chin, then wiped up the milk on the table.

  Dad looked at me, then Bucky. “What do you think about that? About her living with us?”

  “She’ll be our new mom,” Bucky said.

  “Stepmom,” I said.

  Dad nodded. “A stepmom. Right. You don’t seem to like that too much, Goose.”

  I glanced at the clock. “Come on, Buck, let’s get this over with.”

  On the porch I piled newspapers, swept the floor, dusted the tables. When I ran out of things to clean, I rearranged the pillows. Dad came up behind me and I turned and put my head to his chest, tears burning my eyes.

  He hugged me. “Oh, Goose, you were so sad when Mom died.”

  But he was the one who’d been so sad.

  “I don’t like her.” I pushed away. The PT hadn’t really done anything wrong. And she was funny talking about Harry Hen and Ian and Charlie spying. But if I told Dad, he’d think it was okay to marry her.

  “Okay,” Dad said finally.

  The PT drove up to the cottage. I saw how Dad’s happy look faded—The talk didn’t go well, I imagined him saying—but when I glanced back at the PT, she was smiling.

  We decided to go to Pear. We made sandwiches and packed the cooler. We were headed to the stairs when Ian walked across the Steeles’ yard, his long arms swinging.

  “I was gonna take out the kayak,” he said. “Are you going to Pear?”

  “Want to come?” Dad glanced at me and I shrugged. He motioned toward the PT.

  “Oh,” I said. “This is, um, Julia.”

  Ian thrust out his hand. “Ian Richards. Nice to meet you, Julia.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, smiling.

  Great. He was going to suck up to her, too.

  Ian called his parents and then we were on our way. Bucky and the PT sat up front, laughing as Superior barked and snapped at the spray. Ian stood next to Dad, and I sat behind the windshield, my life jacket zipped to my chin, my hands gripping the seat.

  Halfway to Pear, Dad slowed. The water was calm, the bay fairly empty of boats.

  “The shipwreck!” Bucky jumped up and dug both face masks out of the bench. He handed one to Ian, whose eyes widened.

  “Don’t exaggerate, Buck. It’s not really a shipwreck,” I said.

  “Yeah, it is.” Bucky turned to Ian. “When Dad was a kid, this big sailboat sank during a storm. If the water’s clear, you can see it. It’s so cool!”

  I glanced over the side. The water was dark and murky, full of hidden rocks and steep drops. One time, years earlier, I jumped in with Dad and looked down at the sailboat. It was both beautiful and scary how the seaweed wound around the rusty mast.

  Ian adjusted his mask and glanced at me. “You don’t want to go?”

  “Nah.” I shrugged, as if to say that I’d seen it a hundred times.

  He and Bucky jumped. Superior ran from one end of the boat to the other, barking. I glanced at the PT.

  “You don’t like the water much, do you?” she said.

  “It’s okay. I just don’t feel like swimming today.”

  Bucky and Ian wore life jackets, although Ian hardly needed one. He looked natural as he kicked, then floated on his back. They found the sailboat and called to us. The PT watched as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

  Then Dad tossed them an inner tube and rope and we dragged them to shore on Pear Island. We anchored, left the cooler and blankets on the beach and started up the path. The air was cool and sweet and the bushes left dew on our shorts and legs.

  Dad told Ian about the eagle nest and now Ian had a million questions. How big did nests get? How big wer
e the eagles? Could we see the nest on our way back?

  “It’s tough to navigate the waters there,” Dad said. “Too many rocks.”

  I brought up the rear. As we neared the top, the PT turned and whispered, “He sure talks a lot.”

  I couldn’t help smiling.

  We reached the grassy opening. The sun was hot, the wind warm. The PT walked to the edge and looked out. Superior trotted next to her and started digging. Bucky chased a toad back down the path. Dad and Ian were finally quiet.

  I walked to the PT and pointed across the bay. “That’s Pierson Point.”

  “It’s so beautiful.” She took a deep breath. “I like this island, too.”

  “Those are wild blueberry bushes down there,” I said.

  She started down the slope and I followed. The bushes were full of tiny dark blue berries. She pulled a branch toward her face. “Can you eat them?”

  “They’re a little sour still.”

  She popped one into her mouth and sucked in her cheeks. “Sour, yes!”

  I glanced up the hill toward Ian, who talked with Dad.

  “He’s a character.” She laughed quietly. “Impulsive yet endearing. But I wonder if he’s overcompensating. Covering up for something.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. There’s always the other side of you, right?”

  “Let’s go!” Bucky yelled. “I’m starving!”

  We hiked down to the shore and ate. Then we headed back across the bay. The water was choppier, and the wind strong, so Dad drove slowly. I sat in my seat, holding on. Ian leaned over the side, dragging his arm in the water.

  The other side of you. I loved the water but I was also afraid of it. Mei was shy but not with me. Was this what the PT meant?

  At our dock, I jumped out and tied up the boat. Then Bucky ran to Henry’s and Dad and the PT went for a walk.

  “Well, I’ll see you,” Ian said. “Thanks.”

  “Bye.”

  He walked to the Steeles’ cottage and knocked. Mrs. Steele answered, waved to me, then stepped aside as Ian walked in.

  What?

  I imagined him at their table, Mr. Steele reading the paper and Mrs. Steele taking muffins out of the oven. I knew they loved me. But what if they liked Ian better than me?

  I was being ridiculous. The Steeles had known me since I was born.