A Thousand Shades of Blue

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A Thousand Shades of Blue Page 12

by Robin Stevenson


  He looks up at me. “Too tight?”

  “No, it feels good.” I meet his eyes and look away again.

  “I wish we weren’t going tomorrow.”

  “I wish you weren’t too.”

  Let me stay with you, I think. Ask me to stay.

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  Col leans toward me, and we stare at each other for a moment, faces inches apart. Then we start kissing, and I never want to stop.

  Z

  At some point, Col suggests we move up to the V-berth, where there’s a bit more room. Part of me is freaking out—I mean, it’s his bed, and I’ve never been in a guy’s bed before. But part of me doesn’t care. As long as I’m here, with Col, all that other stuff—Mom and Wil , Dad, Emma, Tim—all fades away. All that matters is us: our mouths and our hands and the gentle rocking of the boat and the music spilling out across the water.

  So I go with him, and we lie down together on the soft gray and blue blankets. I feel shy and don’t know if I should say anything. Col lights a joint and takes a long drag, then hands it to me, laughing and coughing.

  “Thanks,” I say. The smoke feels hot and scratchy, but I follow Col’s lead and hold it in my lungs for as long as I can. Maybe it’s stronger this time, or maybe I’m final y doing it right, but within a few minutes I’m definitely feeling something.

  “This is…” I can’t think of the word. “Nice,” I say finally.

  Col starts to laugh. He kisses me. “You’re nice,” he says. I kiss him back. “You’re nice. We’re nice.” I start to laugh. “This is nice.”

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  “You’re real y high, aren’t you?” he asks, still laughing.

  “Umm. I think so.”

  “Is this stil okay?” he asks. His hands are sliding under my shirt, up over my stomach, fumbling with the clasp of my bra.

  “Better than okay,” I say. “I wish I could stay here with you instead of going with my stupid family.”

  He looks startled and pauses for a moment, his hands stil . I can feel my heart beating hard, and I wish I hadn’t spoken. Then he shrugs. “I guess you could, if you’re serious,” he says lightly. “You could always fly to the States after they cross back over. Meet them in Florida in April.”

  I stare at him. “Really? I could?” But even stoned, I know that there is no way my parents would let me do this. Not my parents. Not in a million years. I feel a wave of self-pity and then of fury. It’s too much, all of it: being dragged away from home and from my friends, Mom and Dad being so awful to each other, Mom screwing around, and now this too—being taken away from Col. It’s too fucking much. “You know, my mother is screwing around with that guy, Wil ,” I say.

  “Will? Not Will from Freebird? The guy who does the cruiser’s net?”

  “Yeah.”

  Col laughs. “You’re serious? Shit. Does your dad know?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. No one knows. I just saw them together one day.” Maybe my mom would let me go with Col if I threatened to tell Dad about Wil . The thought 151

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  is immediately followed by a hot wave of shame. I could never do it. I’d hate myself forever.

  “Wow. That’s pretty intense.” He laughs again. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.” I wish I hadn’t brought it up. I don’t know why I did. I put my arms around Col’s neck and draw him toward me.

  He pulls away for a moment, and I feel a flare of anxiety. But then he just lifts his shirt off over his head.

  I can’t stop staring at him. He’s so beautiful. An inky constel ation is tattooed on his shoulder, and a line of silky dark hair drops from below his bel y button and disappears down into his jeans.

  I blush and look away.

  “Way too many clothes around here,” he says.

  Within a few minutes, my shirt and bra have joined his shirt in a jumble on the cabin floor. He’s lying on top of me, pressing against me, the bare skin of his chest warm against mine. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can feel it. “You’d real y let me stay with you?” I whisper.

  He grins. “Why not?”

  Then Dad’s voice crackles across the cabin, and my heart crashes to a stop.

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  Twenty-One

  I guess I k ind of freeze because Col pushes himself off me.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Shh. That’s my Dad.”

  “Sister Ocean, Sister Ocean,” he says again. “This is Shared Dreams.”

  I hold my breath and pray to anyone who might be listening that Becca is out, or has her radio turned off.

  I know she won’t cover for me.

  “That’s your Dad?” Col asks. “You want to talk to him?”

  I shake my head wildly. “No! He thinks I’m with Becca.”

  “Sister Ocean,” Dad cal s again. “Please come in. This is Shared Dreams.”

  For once, for perhaps the first time in my life, my prayers are answered. There is no answer. I wait for a minute or two, listening, only half breathing. But all I hear is the sound of soft jazz and water lapping against the hull.

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  “Shit,” Col says.

  I start to breathe again. “Yeah. But it’s okay. He doesn’t know you exist, and Becca could be out all night. If Dad can’t get in touch with her, there’s nothing he can do. He’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to kill me.”

  He runs his hand slowly down my side and rests it low on my stomach, his fingertips sliding under the waistband of my jeans and grazing the elastic of my underpants.

  “Tomorrow, huh? Does that mean you’re going to spend the night?”

  I shiver. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I feel like someone else altogether. There’s a knot tightening in my stomach, and part of me is scared that I’m making a big mistake. I remember what Becca said: The first time should be with someone special. Someone you real y care about. But Col is special, I remind myself. And besides, staying the night doesn’t necessarily mean I’m agreeing to have sex.

  Or maybe it does. I don’t know.

  I nod slowly and keep my eyes on his. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

  “Good,” he says. Then he starts kissing me again, and I try to push Dad’s voice out of my head. All I want is to get back to that place where all that matters is right here and right now, but all these other thoughts keep drifting in: What are my parents going to say when I show up tomorrow? What if Col expects me to go all the way? What if I do, and then I never see him again?

  I remember Becca saying he’s been with lots of girls and I wonder how careful he’s been. What if I catch some disease or get pregnant?

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  I wish I could talk to Jen. I didn’t even mention Col when I e-mailed her, and I don’t know why not. Maybe because home is so far away I can’t even imagine it anymore. Or maybe because even Jen would think that twenty-five is too old.

  I close my eyes, run my hand through Col’s hair and concentrate on the feeling of his lips and tongue meeting mine. I wonder how many other girls he’s brought back here.

  But surely, even if there have been others, this is different.

  Col unbuttons my jeans and starts to slide them down over my hips, and I panic and half sit up. “No, I don’t know.

  I don’t think…”

  He pushes me back down, gently but insistently. “Relax.

  I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  But I don’t know what I want, and for the first time it occurs to me that I’m real y alone here with him. What if I want to stop and he doesn’t?

  “Col…I’m not, you know. I’m not on the pill or anything.”

  What I mean is no. We can’t do this. I’m not ready. But that isn’t what Col hears. He grins, lifts himself off me and kneels there for a moment. “No problem.” He flips open a door in a long shelf
that runs along the side of the V-berth and pul s out a box of condoms.

  Lots of girls. Lots. I push the thought aside and reach out to him. My hand is shaking. “Not yet.”

  He smiles. “We’ve got all night.”

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  Z

  It’s only a few minutes later when Dad’s voice interrupts us again. But this time, he’s not hailing Sister Ocean.

  “Flyer, Flyer,” Dad says. “This is Shared Dreams.”

  Col rol s away from me. “Should I answer?”

  I shake my head, trying to make sense of this. “Tim must have told him,” I say. “The little creep. I can’t believe he’d do that.”

  He looks annoyed. “I should’ve turned the damn radio off.”“Do it,” I say. “Turn it off.”

  Col stands up and at the same moment, Dad calls again. This time, he cal s me by name.

  “Rachel, damn it.” His voice cracks. “If you can hear this, please answer. It’s an emergency. It’s Tim.”

  My first thought is that there’s been an accident. That Tim’s been hit by a car or drowned. I jump down from the V-berth and almost fal when my injured ankle gives out under my ful weight. Col steps past me, grabs the microphone and hands it to me.

  “Dad? It’s me.”

  “Rachel. Goddamn it. Get your ass back here, right now.”

  Dad never talks to me like that. He never swears. And what scares me even more is that he never, never, never disregards radio etiquette by conversing on channel 16.

  I start to cry, right there, sitting half-naked on the floor. “Dad? Is Tim okay?” I clutch the microphone and 156

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  wait for him to reassure me, to say that he’s hurt, but he’l be fine. He’ll recover.

  Instead there’s a long pause, and then he says, “He’s gone. We don’t know where he is.”

  Not an accident. I feel a flash of relief, followed by a flood of cold anger. Dad scared the hell out of me. He tricked me into answering. “Switch to seventy-two,” I tel him. I don’t want everyone in Georgetown listening in.

  “Just come home. Now.”

  I ignore him. “Switching to seventy-two.” There.

  He can follow or not. I don’t care.

  But he does. “Rachel?”

  “Tim’s probably fine,” I say. “He’s probably gone for a walk. Maybe he just needed a bit of space.”

  “It’s midnight. Jesus Christ, Rachel. He’s not fine.

  Your mother and I get home and find a note saying he’s running away. And then you don’t come home either.

  We’ve been beside ourselves.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry.

  “I finally tracked your friend Becca down—at the bar, of course—and she said you might be on a boat called—”

  “Where’s Mom? Can I talk to her?”

  “Your mother is still out looking for Tim. God only knows—”

  Neither of us are saying over and we keep pressing Transmit to talk, cutting each other off, missing the ends of each other’s sentences.

  “By herself?”

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  “No, Wil ’s gone with her. From Freebird, you know—”

  Oh, I know all right. I drop the mike and walk back to the V-berth.

  “Ignore him,” I say to Col. I climb back up on the bed and reach out to him.

  I should have turned the radio off. Dad’s still shouting, his voice al crackling with static. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but I want you back here, right now, or I’m calling the cops.”

  “He won’t,” I say. “Besides, we’re not doing anything illegal.” I put my hands on his chest and smile at him.

  Without a word, Col pushes me away.

  “Its okay,” I tell him. “Dad’s all talk.” I move closer and slide my hands down lower, across his stomach.

  “Damn it, Rachel. Stop.” He pushes me away again, more forceful y this time. The radio has fallen silent. “You’d better go.”

  I start to cry.

  He just hands me my clothes and starts dressing.

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  Twenty-Two

  The cold front has arrived at last, blowing up choppy waves in Kidd Cove. Col’s wooden dinghy pounds into them. Salt water splashes high and blows back on to us.

  I wrap my arms around myself and shiver.

  I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

  I shine the flashlight toward where the shore must be.

  It’s so dark. Final y we reach the dinghy dock, and Col ties the boat up while I scramble ashore.

  “Rachel.” He climbs out of the dinghy and grabs my arm. “I guess I’d better walk you back, huh?”

  “Don’t,” I say. “Dad’ll freak on you.”

  “Yeah. I’d rather avoid that if it’s all the same to you.”

  He lets me go and steps away without even giving me a hug. It’s like I’ve just become this…liability. He wants to get rid of me with as little hassle as possible. “I guess I’l see you around then,” he says.

  “Whatever.” I take a couple of hobbling steps and start to cry.

  “Oh, Jesus. You can’t even walk.”

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  I start crying harder. I hate myself for crying, but I can’t seem to stop.

  Col swears under his breath. He looks back at his dinghy; then he sighs. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”

  Z

  We’re just approaching the unlit boatyard when it occurs to me that I don’t necessarily have to go back to the boat.

  There is nothing I want less than to see either of my parents. Maybe I should go into town and find Becca instead. Or go look for Tim myself. I’m already in so much trouble, it hardly seems to matter.

  Col has his arm around my waist, supporting me, and I’m half walking, half hopping. I try putting my weight on my ankle again, and a hot pain shoots up my leg. I swear under my breath. There’s no way I can walk into town by myself.

  “That your father?” Col asks.

  I look up. Dad is pacing back and forth near our boat.

  Waiting for me.

  A second later, he sees us. He spins around and half walks, half runs toward us. Col lets go of me and steps away.

  “Rachel.” The lights on Shared Dreams are behind him, so that his expression is hard to see, but I can hear the anger in his voice clearly enough. “What the hell were you thinking?”

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  I shrug. “It’s no big deal. I was just out with friends.”

  Wel , one friend anyway.

  As if he’s reading my mind, Dad turns to Col.

  “I don’t know who you are or what the hell you think you’re doing with a sixteen-year-old, but you can go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under, and stay away from her.”

  Col doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him tensing up beside me. I wonder how angry he is that I lied about my age. He takes a step backward.

  “Go on,” Dad says. His fists are clenched. I’ve never seen him like this before and it’s freaking me out a little.

  For a second, I wonder if he might actual y hit Col. “Get out of here.”

  Col looks at me. His face is tight, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Then he just turns and walks away into the darkness.

  I watch him go. Tears are welling up in my eyes, and I blink them away, not wanting Dad to see.

  “Come on. We’d better catch up with your mother.” He shakes his head. “You and Tim, both missing. She was a complete wreck. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  “I didn’t know Tim was going to take off,” I say. “That’s not my fault.”

  He starts walking toward town. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

  I take a couple of limping steps and pain shoots up my leg again. “Dad!”

  “What?” He turns his
head but doesn’t stop walking.

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  “I’ve hurt my ankle. I can’t walk.”

  “If you think I’m leaving you here by yourself so that you can do whatever you please, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  He stops and shakes his head, like I’m just one disappoint-ment after another. “I think you’ve proven that you can’t be left alone. After what you did tonight, I can’t trust you.

  You’ve broken that trust.”

  It’s something he always says: that trust is something that can be broken. And I’m scared that he’s right. Dad wouldn’t trust Mom anymore, if he knew about Wil . Col won’t trust me now that I’ve lied to him. And I don’t think Tim or I real y trust anyone.

  Can trust be broken so badly that it can’t ever be fixed?

  I grit my teeth and take another step. Hot tears are squeezing out of my eyes. I watch Dad standing there, staring at me as I hobble forward, and I’m flooded with anger. I’m angry with Dad for being such an ass. I’m angry with him for not knowing that Mom is screwing around on him. How can he be so blind?

  “Rachel.” His voice is low and controlled, but even so he sounds as angry as I feel. “I don’t have the time or patience for your histrionics. So drop the drama and walk. Now.”

  “I can’t!” I’m screaming at him. “You want to go, then go.”

  And he goes. He doesn’t wait for me. He just stalks off toward town. I figure he thinks I’m faking the ankle thing.

  I hate him. I hate him.

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  Z

  I limp back to the boat, climb up the ladder and sit in the cabin, alone. Dad probably thinks I’m going to call Col.

  As if. Col probably won’t ever speak to me again, now that he knows I lied about my age. My ankle is throbbing.

  I swing my leg up onto the berth, and a piece of paper fal s onto the floor.

  Tim’s note. His handwriting is horrible, as always, al scrunched up and uneven, wandering up and down as it crosses the page. I can’t take being on the boat anymore, he’s written. I need to get away for a while. Rachel is at Becca’s.

  Don’t worry about me. Then he’s written something else, but it’s all crossed out. I squint at it, but I can’t read it.

 

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