“I’m sorry about the Bennett thing,” I say, continuing our conversation from before. I realize how selfish I’ve been. I do want Micayla and Bennett to be happy. “I don’t know why I said that you couldn’t like him. That was ridiculous.”
“It’s okay. I should have known it would be complicated for you, too.”
“I just want you and Bennett to be my friends,” I say. “That’s it.”
She leans back in the chair. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. We always will be.”
“Good,” I say.
“He’s back, by the way,” she says. “He asked about you, and I lied and said I didn’t know when you were returning.”
“Why?”
She answers matter-of-factly. “I wanted you to myself for a little while.”
Something about that feels nice. But I feel my stomach knot up, knowing that Bennett is back. There seems to be so much space between us now. Too much.
“I don’t like Bennett that way anymore anyway,” she tells me. “After a few days with him in Boston, I realized that he’s just a friend. There was too much nose-picking and slurping of cereal milk for me to be more interested than that!”
“But you’ve been watching him slurp his cereal milk for years.”
“It’s different on Seagate,” she says.
She’s right. On Seagate, even the most boring, run-of-the-mill things seem special. Even brushing your teeth on Seagate doesn’t feel like a chore. Taking the garbage out offers a chance to see the ocean. Even watching a boy slurp cereal milk doesn’t seem disgusting, because you’re happy. And when you’re happy, anything is possible.
“That’s why we have to get the island back to the way it was before the storm.” I sit up straight. “We need to do whatever we can.”
“Remy,” she groans. “I know that twinkle in your eye. You’re plotting something.”
“I am. But it’s something we can totally do,” I tell her. “Really.”
On your first night back on Seagate Island after a hurricane, when everything feels empty, when your pool isn’t safe for swimming, when you feel alone in your favorite place on earth, there’s only one thing to do. Only one person to talk to: Bennett Newhouse.
I don’t bother texting or calling, because I don’t want to have to wait for a response. I don’t want to give him a chance to ignore me.
Bennett’s mom answers the door. She looks worn out, but she musters a smile. “Hi, Remy-roo!”
She’s called me that since I was a baby, apparently, and I’d never admit it, but I love it. It means she knows me. Really knows me. There’s something so special about a person who has known you since you were a baby and has more memories of you than anyone else does.
“Hey.” I smile as I walk in. Their house always smells like cranberry scones. Morning, noon, and night. They’re Mrs. Newhouse’s favorite, and she’s constantly baking on Seagate.
I wonder when they got back. I wonder how she already had time to bake. But maybe baking calms her down. “Is Bennett home?”
It seems quiet here. Too quiet for Bennett and Asher to be home, and it’s too early for them to be asleep.
“I think he’s out back,” she says.
I walk through their den, where Bennett’s dad is sleeping on the couch. I go out to their back porch. The furniture is gone, and the porch is covered with branches and sand and seaweed.
Well, this could be a good place to start the cleanup process.
I walk down the few steps to the beach. They don’t have a pool, but they have a dock, and that makes up for it.
Bennett’s on the dock, sitting forward on an Adirondack chair, bouncing a ball. It seems funny to only see one chair out here. The dock is usually covered with kayaks and rafts.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Remy,” he answers, sounding as if he’s reading my name off an attendance sheet. “I didn’t know you were back. I was just taking a cleanup break. I’m exhausted.”
I sit down next to him on the dock. I pull my knees to my chest and look out. The ocean is so choppy that it almost frightens me. It’s as if the sea is mad at someone and needs to take its aggression out on all of us. I always thought the ocean was calmer after a storm. Maybe not.
I stay quiet, wondering what to say. I’m not even sure why I came here exactly. Only that I needed to talk to Bennett. I need his calm reassurance. I need him to tell me that everything is going to be okay. That we’re going to be able to clean up the island and bring it back to life.
“I’m sorry,” I begin.
He looks at me. “For what?”
I shrug. “For being weird all summer. I think I took my time and my friends here for granted, which I never want to do. Putting off our swim lessons when I should have cherished every one. I thought I had more time than I did. And then, when we were gone, you felt so far away.”
“That’s kind of the way life is,” he says, laughing a little. “We don’t appreciate what we have when we have it.”
“True.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why is that?”
He shrugs. “Dunno.” He throws a pebble into the water. “Sorry the whole carnival didn’t happen. I know you were excited about that.”
Truthfully, I’d kind of forgotten about it. It seems like such a small thing now.
There’s so much to say and nothing at all to say at the same time. So I stay quiet. Being next to Bennett is comfort enough.
“So, what have you been doing since you’ve been back?” I ask.
“We just got here yesterday. I’m helping my mom clean up and, you know, just hanging. Thankful that I can even be here.”
I nod in agreement.
“You planning to get the doggie day camp up and running?” he asks. “I haven’t seen any of the dogs yet.”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Maybe next summer. But for now, I think we should focus on helping clean up the beach and doing whatever else we can.”
“Sounds good.”
“So you’ll help?” I ask.
“Of course I’ll help,” he scoffs. “Like you even had to ask.”
I smile. “So, where to start?”
“Right here.” He laughs. “Get a broom!”
And just like that, things feel back to normal.
Claire texts me to let me know they’re coming back to Seagate. She said she begged and begged and begged. And her grandpa had to go back anyway, and her mom didn’t want him going alone. So it all worked out.
I text her back to say I’ll meet them at the ferry.
I sit on the bench and wait for them, and it feels as if popcorn is popping in my stomach. In reality it’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen Calvin, but it feels like forever. We had that FaceTime chat, but we haven’t talked since.
And seeing Claire is always a little nerve-racking, too. You never know what kind of mood she’s going to be in.
I’m picking sand out of my flip-flop straps when I see them coming. Even though I’m nervous, I’m so excited that I start waving both arms.
“Remy!” Claire screams.
“Hey!” I yell back.
“It’s so good to be back.” Claire runs to me and gives me a hug. Then she stops and looks around. “Sheesh, it’s depressing here. Everything is closed!”
“Well, not everything,” I tell them. “A few things are open. Like Pastrami on Rye. How’s your family?” I ask.
“I’m better,” Claire says. “But Calvin hasn’t been doing so great.”
I look over at Calvin, who’s pulling his suitcase off the ferry.
“Oh” is all I can manage to say. “We should wait for him to catch up.”
“I’ve accepted the whole situation,” Claire continues. “There’s nothing I can do to change it. Now I want to try to enjoy what’s left of the summer.”
“We will,” I say. “And we’ll help others enjoy it, too.”
“Wait, you said Pastrami on Rye is open?” she asks me, excitement in her voic
e. “I have to go get my mom and grandpa their favorite sandwiches! It will totally cheer them up!”
I nod. “Good idea!”
“Hi, Calvin,” I say as soon as he gets to us. My stomach flips over.
All he says is “Hey.”
“I’ll see you guys later,” Claire says. She runs off in the other direction, while her mom and Mr. Brookfield start walking to their house with the luggage.
“Claire went to get sandwiches at Pastrami on Rye for your mom and grandpa. Which are their favorites?” I ask to break the tension.
“My mom’s is turkey with coleslaw and Russian dressing. Like yours.” He smiles. “My grandpa’s is literally pastrami on rye. With mustard.”
He laughs. I think he’s perking up a little bit.
I laugh, too. “Good to know.”
“Want to take a walk?” he asks.
Seagate might look a little different, but I’m still happy that we can take a walk through it. As we stroll through town, I see that the bench outside Novel Ideas is back.
Mr. Aprone must have returned to the island. Lester’s going to be so happy when he sees this!
“Let’s sit for a minute,” I say.
Calvin and I are on the bench, side by side, and I wait for him to say more.
“It’s okay to be sad,” I say.
He half shrugs. “Yeah.”
“You’ve gone through so much this summer. And you’ve kept it bottled up inside for a long time.”
We stay quiet for a while. But it’s nice to just be together, sitting on the same bench, thinking about things. Maybe that means we’re comfortable with each other. Maybe that means we don’t have to talk a lot for things to be okay.
“I still like you,” he says, breaking the quiet. “Just so you know.”
“Okay.” I laugh. “That’s good. I still like you, too.”
“Well, that’s something to not be sad about.”
I’m glad to make Calvin happy, even if only for a moment.
“I should get home. Walk with me?”
I stand up, and he takes my hand.
Calvin and I walk together. Hand in hand. Block after block. Past empty stores and empty restaurants and fallen trees. I can feel my hand getting sweaty, but I don’t want to let go.
We spend the next few days cleaning up debris as best we can. Mrs. Pursuit, Mr. Aprone, and the rest of the Seagate Community Council organize a meeting so they can go over what needs to be done and where volunteers should focus their efforts. Everyone seems really dedicated.
We try to help as much as we can, but people tell us that some areas aren’t safe for kids, and we shouldn’t be lifting heavy stuff. Hearing this again and again, it feels as if they don’t really want our help.
Atticus and Rascal are the only dogs that are back. And Paul and Andi don’t really need us to watch or entertain them. Josh and the Improvimaniacs are also back, and they’re running theater classes for the few little kids who are here.
“We’re just improvising,” Josh says whenever he sees me, and then he laughs. He finds that comment really funny. Improvising their way through the rest of the summer. Improvising their way through life. “That’s what life is, Remy. Improvising.”
He tries to be so deep, and it always makes me laugh. But then I get it. The Improvimaniacs love change. Their job is to react to it, to create a little magic from the unknown when it gets thrown their way. Suddenly I see their sketches and jokes in a whole new way.
I’m sitting outside Novel Ideas, feeling bad that we can’t help more with the cleanup. Feeling sad for Calvin and Claire, sad for Seagate. And sitting here makes me miss Lester. He loved this spot. Underneath this bench was his favorite place on the island. It’s weird without him here. I wonder if the Decsinis are coming back.
“Hey, Remy.” Mrs. Pursuit sits down next to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I guess.”
We sit there quietly, and I wonder how long she’s going to stay. It feels funny, just Mrs. Pursuit and me on this bench, not talking, not even reading something we just purchased at Novel Ideas.
“I had an idea,” she says finally. “Tell me what you think.”
“Okay.” I perk up. I’m always happy to listen to someone else’s thoughts. It’s good to have a break from my own.
“You were really helpful with all the Centennial Summer planning, even if it never happened. The island feels pretty empty now. I think we all need something to help us cheer up.” She looks at me. “Should we try to get organized and see if we can pull off some smaller kind of celebration?”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah. What have we got to lose?”
“That’s true.”
“Will you and your friends help?” she asks.
“Absolutely!”
“Josh! I have an idea!” I shout when I get to the old Seagate Hotel, our former rainy-day headquarters. Thankfully, it didn’t suffer any damage from the storm.
Standing in the doorway, Josh rubs his eyes with his palms and grumbles, “I just woke up.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I give him a second to wake up, regretting that I didn’t think to call first. Or at least text.
I tell him about Mrs. Pursuit’s idea for a small Centennial celebration and explain that we need a place to have it. “The stadium’s roof is damaged, and …”
“Uh-huh.” I can tell his mind is wandering. I think he wants to go back to sleep.
“So, can we have it here?”
“Here?”
I nod.
“Hmm.”
Please say yes. Please say yes. It’s such a small thing, really. But right now it feels like a very big thing.
“Sure, why not?” he says with his eyes closed. “You might want to do it sooner rather than later, though. My mom and her sisters are coming back. They’re in the process of selling the building. Some big hotel developer is buying it.”
“What? Really?”
“Yup.” He stares at me for a second. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I think I’m still asleep.” He closes his eyes and then opens them again. “Later, Remy.”
As the days go by, more and more people come back to Seagate. Dogs, too. Tabby’s back. So is Potato Salad. No sign of Ritzy, though. No Lester, either.
We offer to watch the dogs, and people seem appreciative. But it’s not the same. One dog for an hour. Another later on. It’s not camp anymore, really; it’s more like babysitting. But it’s better than nothing.
After an afternoon spent washing and brushing Tabby, I see Calvin down the block as I walk home.
“Hey, I was looking for you!” Calvin shouts.
“Yeah?” I ask.
Out of breath, he says, “I have amazing news! Sundae Best reopened.” He pauses for a second to catch his breath. “I was thinking that, um, we could go together.”
I let the good news wash over me. Sundae Best is open. Calvin wants to go together. Things really are looking up. “They’re stocked and ready to go?”
“Yup. Come on.” He grabs my hand.
I want to ask Calvin if this is, like, our first official date, since our FaceTime chat wasn’t really a date. A date needs to be in person, two people face-to-face, I think.
But truthfully, I don’t think it matters what we call it. It doesn’t need a label, and neither do we.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” I tell Josie, Sundae Best’s owner. “Seagate isn’t Seagate without Sundae Best.”
“Happy to be back,” she says. “We don’t have all the flavors yet, but we’ve got a pretty good selection. Give us a day or two and we’ll be fully back in action.”
“Did you guys have any damage to the store?” Calvin asks.
For some reason, this makes me really proud of him. I’m proud that he’s so concerned about Josie and her ice cream shop. I’m proud that he cares about others enough to ask.
“Nope. We got very lucky,” she says. “I was worried abou
t the freezer being flooded. But I guess God loves ice cream.” She laughs and points to the sign above the shop door that says ICE CREAM IS MY RELIGION. And we laugh together.
“Josie, may I have a Surprise Scoop?” I ask.
Calvin gasps. “Remy Boltuck, getting a Surprise Scoop?”
I like that he knows that about me, that I’ve never wanted to be surprised. That he knows, then, that this is a big deal. And that I can handle change.
“People change, Calvin.” I lift my eyebrows, all self-assured. “People change.”
I select my current favorite for the first scoop—chocolate milk and cookies—and Josie gives me banana marshmallow for the Surprise Scoop.
Delicious. Unexpected. A surprise.
Calvin picks mango sorbet and gets a Surprise Scoop of strawberry cheesecake.
So we sit, and we eat our ice cream. We have the whole shop to ourselves. Josie busies herself in the back, probably getting things organized, or maybe she wants to give us some privacy.
On the walk home, Calvin tells me that he’s mastered something.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’ve been practicing and practicing.” He pauses, puts his hands on my shoulders, and looks right into my eyes.
Oh no. Is he talking about kissing? And he’s been practicing? On other girls? No, that can’t be. But I don’t think I’m ready for this. “Wait, Calvin, I—”
“Aaaaheeeeoowwww!”
Despite his scream, I heave a sigh of relief. The biggest sigh of relief I’ve ever let out in my entire life.
He wasn’t talking about kissing. He was talking about screaming. Mr. Brookfield’s famous scream, to be exact.
“Wow,” I say. “That was very impressive.” I act nonchalant, as if I wasn’t worried at all about having my first kiss in front of the statue of Melvin Jasper, the first person ever to come to Seagate Island.
“I knew you’d be proud,” he says.
“I am. So proud.”
We walk home, and Calvin tells me about how he’s been practicing and that next summer he wants to help his grandpa with the Scream Contest. Last summer we had an amazing one, which not only was super fun but also let the entire island learn that Mr. Brookfield was in the movies. Or at least his scream was. But Mr. Brookfield is a real film star to us.
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