He grins. “Because I love flying.”
“Like passenger planes?”
“Not yet. I’m working on getting my license.” He swirls his drink around in the cup. “So far I’ve only flown smal planes.”
I can tell that Becca is bored. She’s only half listening.
I think she was hoping for a party, and now she’s trying to figure out how soon we can leave without being rude. Col doesn’t seem to notice.
“Let’s sit outside,” he says. “It’s a gorgeous night.”
Becca sits beside him. I take a seat across the cockpit and stare up at the stars. There’s about a million of them.
You don’t see stars like this back home.
I take a swig of my lukewarm Tang and rum. I’m already drunk from the beers I had back at Eddie’s, but I don’t care. It’s weird. I feel reckless, not scared of anything.
For once, I’m not worrying about Mom and Will or feeling guilty about Emma.
“Andromeda,” Col says suddenly.
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I startle. “What?”
“That star, there.” He points. “It’s actual y not a star at al . It’s a whole galaxy.”
I squint up at a sky so thick with stars that it looks like worn-thin black velvet held over a bright light. “Which one?”
He moves over to sit beside me, lowers his head to my level and points. “See that bright star there? The north star?”
I nod.
“Okay, on one side of it you’ve got the Big Dipper, right? Look on the other side of it—see Cassiopeia? The W-shaped group of stars?”
I shake my head. “I see the Big Dipper, but…”
“I’ll get the binoculars,” he says. “You’ve got to see this.
It’s incredible.”
Col’s thigh is warm against mine, and I don’t want him to move.
Becca stands up and shakes her blond dreads. “Actual y, I’ve got to go. I’m wiped.”
She looks bored, but not particularly tired. I wonder if she’s going to go back to Eddie’s.
“Rachel? Come on.”
Reluctantly, I move away from Col and stand up. I don’t want to go back to Shared Dreams. I don’t want to climb that ladder and lie in my narrow berth high up above the hard parking lot and listen to my mom snoring and Tim muttering in his sleep.
Col’s hand brushes my arm, and it feels like a thousand electric shocks. “If you want to stay a bit, I’ll show 68
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you Andromeda and then run you back to your boat in my dinghy.”
I hesitate for a moment. I’m not sure if he’s hitting on me or if I’m imagining it. I’m not sure which I want it to be.
“Okay,” I say. “That’d be great.”
He grins. “Good.”
I follow Becca to the stern rail to grab my flashlight and jacket from her dinghy. She steps over the rail, pul s the dinghy close and jumps down lightly.
As I lean over to get my things, she grabs my arm and pulls me close. “Rachel? He’s a player, okay? Just so you know.”
I nod. “Sure. I’m not staying long. I just don’t want to go home yet.”
She shrugs. “None of my business what you do. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
I guess I should be upset that she’s saying this, or nervous, or something. But I’m not. I’m excited. Because she wouldn’t bother to say it if she didn’t think he might be interested.
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Ten
Becca pushes her dinghy away from Col’s boat and begins rowing.
“Night,” I say.
She nods and keeps rowing. I watch her unlit dinghy slipping into the darkness.
Col stands close behind me. Everything feels different now that it’s just him and me on the boat. I don’t even know him.
“Can I get you another drink?” he asks.
I look at my empty glass swinging from the lifelines in its drink holder. More alcohol is probably not a good idea.
On the other hand, what the hel .
“Sure.” I follow him down the steps and into the cabin.
Even though it’s cool out, he’s only wearing baggy surf shorts and a white T-shirt. His arms and the back of his neck are darkly tanned and his hair is sun-bleached to a white blond.
Down below, even the dim lights seem too bright, and I’m sure I’m blushing for no reason at al . Col pops open 70
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a wooden compartment concealed in the cabin roof and slides out a bottle of wine.
“Special occasion,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows, trying to be cool. “Thought you only had rum and Tang.”
“Like I said, special occasion.”
“Is it?”
His eyes meet mine. They are a dark grayish blue with whites that seem a few shades whiter than most people’s.
“Could be,” he says. “What do you think?”
I remember Becca saying that he’s a player, and I tell myself that it’s a totally hokey pick-up line. But I’m nodding my head at the same time. “Why not?” I say.
The thing is, he’s in his twenties. He’s a pilot, or almost a pilot anyway. He’s here on his own boat. From what Becca said, he’s got more money that he knows what to do with. And me? I’m sixteen. I get twenty bucks allowance each week. I’m still in high school, and I’m here with my completely screwed-up family. So who am I kidding?
“You still want to see Andromeda?” he asks, pouring two glasses of red wine. Real glasses, not plastic cups.
I take one from him, careful not to let my hand touch his. “Sure.”
It’s a relief to go back outside, into the darkness. Col sits beside me, close but not quite touching. I’m not sure if I want him to move closer to me or farther away. He lifts the binoculars to his eyes and steadies them, and suddenly I remember Tim doing the same thing that day we saw Mom 71
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with Wil . My breath catches in my throat, and I try to turn it into a cough.
“You all right?” Col asks, lowering the binoculars and looking at me.
“Fine, sorry.” I try to push away thoughts of my mother.
“Yeah. Did you—can you see it?”
“Yeah. Here.” He hands me the binoculars, but when I take them, he doesn’t let go. Instead he moves his hands over top of mine, guiding the binoculars to my eyes so I’m staring through them up at the general vicinity of Andromeda.
I’m not going to see it, I think. I don’t real y care except that Col obviously wants me to see it and I want to be able to say the right things.
“Okay,” he says. “North Star…Cassiopeia…”
“That’s the W-shaped one, right?”
“You got it. Now, look just over from there, just above it—you see those three stars in a row?”
I nod, uncertainly. Then I see it: a little patch of light, like a tiny star cloud. A faintly glowing galaxy. “Oh. Oh wow. I see it.”
Col sounds pleased. “Isn’t it amazing? It blows me away, thinking about it. You know what? That galaxy is two hundred and fifty million light years away. I mean, it could have disappeared millions of years ago and we’d stil be seeing it.”
I lower the binoculars and stare up at the sky. “It is amazing. Total y amazing.”
Col is quiet for a moment. “People always go on about how the stars make them feel so insignificant.”
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“Uh-huh.”
“I think it’s the opposite though. I find them reassuring.
Like…it’s okay if everything doesn’t always work out the way you want it to, or if things don’t make sense sometimes, because there is so much else out there.” He laughs.
“God, just listen to me. Sorry, Rachel. Blame it on the wine. I hardly know you, and here I am rattling on about my theory of life.”
“It’s okay. I—I liked what you said.”
�
�You’re sweet.”
I laugh. “Wel , you’re the only one who thinks so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say that being stuck on a boat with my parents is not exactly bringing out the sweet side of me.”
He raises one eyebrow. I love it when guys do that.
“It’s no big deal,” I say, shrugging. I wish I hadn’t brought up my parents. I don’t want to remind him that I’m not here on my own. I take a sip of wine. “This is nice,” I say, even though I don’t really like the taste of wine at al .
“Australian,” he says. “I was down there for a while, a couple of years ago.”
“You were?”
“Mmm. Great country.”
“When I was a kid, I had this book called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. It was about this kid who—obviously—is having a bad day and every time a new bad thing happens, he says he’s going to 73
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move to Australia.” God. Why can’t I stop making myself sound like a baby?
He doesn’t seem to notice though. “Hey, I had that one too. And then at the end, the kid says, ‘Some days are like that. Even in Australia.’”
I grin at him. “Yeah.” Although actual y I don’t think it’s the kid who says that. I think it’s his mom. But I’m through with believing anything mothers say.
He reaches out and touches my hair, his fingers brushing against my cheek for a fraction of a second.
I freeze, barely breathing.
He pul s his hand away. “Your hair’s so black,” he says.
“And you’re so fair skinned. Do you dye it?”
“Can’t you tell? My roots are totally growing in. I haven’t been able to find black hair dye since we left the States.” My heart is pounding and my voice sounds funny.
Col touches my hair again and lifts a lock of it teasingly, like he’s inspecting the roots. “Don’t tell me you’re real y a blond.”
“Yup. ’Fraid so.” I make a face. “But only my hair, you know? I’ve never real y felt like a blond.”
“Yeah, you don’t strike me as the blond type. The black suits you. You’re…I don’t know. Different.”
I watch his face anxiously. Different good or different bad?“How old are you anyway?” he asks.
I try to remember if I’ve mentioned that I’m still in school and wonder how big a lie I can get away with. Two years, I decide. I’ll add two years. “Eighteen.”
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Col’s eyes narrow to catlike slits when he smiles.
“Eighteen, huh?”
I look down at my empty glass. “Yup. Legal drinking age in the Bahamas.”
He refil s it. “Hmm. But not where you’re from, I bet.
Are your parents going to kill me?”
“My parents won’t find out.” I look out across the dark water toward Red Shanks. “Believe me,” I say,
“I can keep a secret.”
75
Eleven
In a weird way, talking to Col reminds me of talking to Jen. I guess it’s just been a long time since I talked to anyone under forty. It’s been a long time since I had a conversation about anything other than the boat, the weather and what’s for dinner.
“It must be something, traveling with your folks,”
Col says.
“I didn’t want to come,” I admit. “But it was okay at first.”
I think back to the beginning of the trip. That first day crossing Lake Ontario, long hot August days and warm starry nights, our whole family together on our little boat making our way through the canals and down the Hudson River to New York. It seemed so hopeful. Mom and Dad were actual y getting along, and it seemed like things were going to be different.
Tim was in heaven. But I knew it wasn’t going to last.
On our first overnight sail on the ocean—off the New Jersey coast—a storm kicked up. The wind sounded like someone screaming, and the boat pounded into the huge 76
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dark waves. Spray flew everywhere. Outside, you couldn’t see a thing. We were hurtling forward into this awful black-ness. When you were down below, it sounded like the boat was being shaken apart. I kept throwing up. I sat outside, shivering and trying to stay under the dodger, listening to Mom and Dad fighting.
Mom screamed at him that he should reef the main sail, that it was too windy, that the boat was out of control, that he was putting their kids in danger.
“Laura,” he said in this ultra-calm voice, “I think I know a little more about this than you do.”
She pulled her hat off and threw it onto the cockpit floor. “Damn it, Mitch. Stop acting like you’re the big expert and I’m just…nothing.”
He picked up the hat and wrung water from it. “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
“Go to hell,” she said. She went down below, and I knew this trip wasn’t going to solve one single thing.
Z
Col taps my shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “I think I better go.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
If I try to talk, I’ll start to cry. I stand up and realize that I’m very, very drunk. “I don’t know. Nothing. It’s just late.”
“Did I say something wrong?” His forehead creases with concern. “I asked you about your family. I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
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“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” He’s so close I can hear his breathing.
He shakes his head. “Look, we can talk about something else. Or we could watch a movie. I got this cute little twelve-volt tv from some cruisers in Luperon last year.”
I hesitate, feeling torn. “What time is it?”
Col looks at his watch. “Two.”
“I better go. I snuck out, you know? My folks think I’m in bed.”
He grins. “Oh yeah. I remember those days.” He stands up and holds out a hand. “Okay. I’ll run you back to the boatyard on one condition.”
“What’s that?” I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet.
“You come see me again tomorrow.”
I look at him, surprised. “Okay. I…well. Yeah, I’d like that.” Since we got back to Georgetown, I’ve wanted nothing more than to leave. But now I catch myself hoping that the boat won’t get fixed too quickly after al .
Z
Col’s dinghy is small and wooden. He has an outboard engine, but he doesn’t turn it on. Instead, he rows us to shore. The moon is up, and it doesn’t seem al that dark anymore. The phosphorescence in the water isn’t as bright as it was earlier, but I can still see its milky swirls of light behind the boat.
I bet Emma would have liked to see this, I think.
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“Who’s Emma?” Col asks.
I realize I must have said the words out loud. “She’s my sister. My older sister. She didn’t come with us.”
“Too bad.”
I shrug. “Yeah. She moved out last year.”
“I always wished I had a big sister,” Col says.
I don’t say anything. I know what he’s imagining, and it’s too hard to explain that it isn’t like that with Emma.
When we get to shore, Col jumps out and ties the dinghy to the dock. “I’ll walk you back,” he says.
“You don’t have to.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Wel . Thanks.” I step out of the dinghy and stumble over a piece of wood lying across the dock.
Col grabs my arm and steadies me. “Okay?”
“Sorry, yeah. Fine.” I expect him to release my arm, but instead of letting go, he slides his hand down my arm to my hand and grips it tightly. I swal ow hard and pretend not to notice that we are holding hands as we walk across the boatyard.
/> “That’s my boat there,” I whisper. “I better go.”
“Okay.” Col releases my hand.
We stand there for a moment, facing each other, and for a crazy second I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. Then he steps backward and grins. “See you tomorrow then.”
I am as quiet as I can be, climbing up the ladder. In the cockpit, I wait a moment, slipping off my jacket. If I get caught now, I can pretend I just came outside for some fresh air. I listen closely and hear Mom snoring.
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Barely breathing, I slip through the companionway, down the steps and into my berth. I lie there, a huge grin on my face, my heart pounding. Col. Col. Col.
“Rach?”
“Tim. Shh.”
“Where did you go?” he whispers.
I flip over so my head is at the other end of my berth, closer to Tim’s aft cabin. He’s kneeling on the end of his bed, shirtless and skinny-chested. “None of your business.”
But I want to talk about it, so I tell him anyway. “I went to Eddie’s and then to visit this guy. Col.”
“On a boat?”
“Duh.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. He could live here.”
“No, he’s a cruiser. He’s from Palm Beach.” I grin smugly, enjoying how the words feel in my mouth. “He’s a pilot.”
“Cool.”
“How come you’re awake?”
“I can’t sleep.” Tim rubs his eyes and even in the dark, I can tell that he’s been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I feel a flicker of guilt that I’ve refused to talk to him about what we saw. “Is it…are you thinking about Mom and Will?”
“No. Emma.”
“I know. I miss her too.”
“I just had a dream about her,” Tim says. “About how we used to play Hospital when we were little.”
I nod my head. “I remember that. We used to play School too.”
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“No, we never played School.”
“Wel , whatever. Those kind of games.”
Tim looks at me kind of pityingly, like he can’t believe I’m so dumb. “Not whatever. Just Hospital. We used to play it all the time.”
“If you say so.” I’m pretty sure we played some rocket ship game too.
“We did. And you always made up the rules. You always got to be the doctor, and I always had to be Emma’s mom or dad, and Emma…Emma was always the patient.”
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