This called for chocolate. I was pouring hot fudge over my ice cream when the beeps started up again. Proximity alert.
“You’re drowning your scoop,” came his voice from behind me.
“Well, you know me and drowning,” I replied without looking back, and put down the bottle of sauce.
His next words were almost too soft to catch. “I’m sick over what that spray paint said about you.”
That was unexpected. No, that was…mind-blowing. I was glad I was looking away, since it took me a second to recover. At last, I turned toward him. “There was stuff all over, about all of us.”
“They knew about yesterday.”
“Yeah, imagine that. It’s all anyone could talk about.”
“So someone sneaking around could have overheard it.”
“Why do you think it was an intruder? You know very well—”
“The campfire. The tape recorder. Amy, someone is infiltrating this island.”
I rolled my eyes. “But they’re harmless, like you said. The person who trashed the room is sitting right over there. You know it.”
“I’ve spoken to both of the Myers. They aren’t my favorite people, but they aren’t violent, either. This was violent.”
“You take an awful lot upon yourself, you know.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“What was up with the meeting today? Why were you acting like you were in charge?”
“Because I am.”
“What does that mean?”
He blinked. “I’m in charge. I called the meeting, I ran it. I’m in charge.”
“You’ve barely graduated.”
“So? I’m on the board of the Trust.”
“You never told me that.”
“Every Secretary is the year after he graduates. But I was in the doghouse all last semester, remember? I couldn’t even go to TTA meetings. Now, ever since Gehry’s been out, I’ve finally been able to do my job properly. And,” he added, “I don’t exactly tell you everything about my life.”
Or anything at all. I returned to my seat and wolfed down my ice cream so fast, I almost choked.
I’m sick over what that spray paint said about you.
Poe had called the meeting. He’d talked to everyone on the island. Even Kurt Gehry, whom he had more reason to hate than the rest of us combined, considering how Gehry had canceled his White House internship and shoved him off the TTA board. While we were busy scrubbing paint off the mattresses, he’d conducted a full investigation. For me.
George was wrong. Poe wasn’t a jerk. But he wasn’t like anyone I knew, either.
My internal radar indicated that Poe had left the dining room, and soon after, the girls followed suit, heading back to our semi-clean cabin to finish surveying the damage and make plans for tomorrow, since a yacht trip was clearly off the table. (The regular meeting had been usurped by the emergency summit, and no one had any interest in returning to the stuffy tomb that night.) I found I was too antsy to sit, though, so I grabbed my towel. “I’m going to take a shower.” My allotted daily ten-minute shower.
Clarissa looked up from the remains of her purse, which, if not ruined by the paint, had definitely been destroyed by a thorough if unproductive scrubbing. “Wait for one of us. You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone at night.”
“I’m fine. I’m just going to the compound.”
“But you have to walk through the woods.”
“Jesus, Clarissa. Let the poor girl take a shower alone.” Demetria rolled over and glared at the ceiling.
And with that, I stepped out into the night. Though as soon as I passed beyond the circle of light cast by the cabin windows, I shivered. Maybe Clarissa was right.
No. That was silly. There were no intruders. I didn’t care what Poe said about someone targeting me. Those slurs had been written about all four of the Diggirls. And I’d seen Kadie playing Monopoly in the dining hall when we’d left, so I was safe. Yet the deeper I walked into the woods, the more my ears strained for every bit of sound. Every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs. Even the sound of the shells crunching beneath my feet gave me the creeps. There had, after all, been that campfire, though Ben insisted it was more than a week old.
Nevertheless, I was practically running by the time I reached the compound yard. Yellow lights shone from all the windows of the main house, from the boys’ cabin, and even from a tiny porch light over the entrance to the tomb. Salt hadn’t turned off the generators yet, but the shower house was dark. Natch.
Inside, it was cool and shadowy, and the fluorescent bulb I flipped on was of the variety that gave out only a dim, flickering, violet-tinted swath of illumination. Horror movie lighting. Perfect.
A quick wash later, I was wrapping up in the towel when I did hear something outside the window. A definite footstep, then a few more. The door opened.
“Hello?” I called. It was just someone else looking for a late-night shower. Surely. I pushed the curtain aside and tiptoed into the changing area. Maybe they were scared, too.
I tried again. “Hello? It’s Amy here.”
A figure stepped from the shadows. “I know.”
14. Sea Change
I didn’t have time to draw breath before hands clamped down on either side of my face and I was pushed roughly against the wall. Fingers tangled in my hair, protecting my skull from the tile behind my head.
“Jamie…” I cried out, as he pressed his mouth to mine.
Poe lifted his head. “Aww, you called me Jamie.”
“I don’t have that much money left,” I said, and pulled him close.
The wall was cold against my wet back, and the knobby weave of the towel cut into my breasts and rubbed hard against my belly and thighs. The fact that, except for said towel, I was completely naked didn’t bother me at all. Poe was dressed in slacks and a tee, and I twisted my hands in the fabric of the shirt, balling my fingers into fists as if I could tear it from his shoulders. His kisses were fast and frenetic, moving from my lips to my throat and back again, and he supported all of my weight between his body and the wall. I hooked my ankle behind his knee and arched my back.
He moaned a bit into my mouth and I almost lost it, then and there. This was beyond ridiculous.
1) We were in the shower house. The very open, very public shower house.
2) We were not at the point where he should be kissing me in a towel.
3) We shouldn’t be getting to that point, ever, what with all the bickering and general not-getting-along.
4) Being stalked is not generally one of my turn-ons.
But my body responded to none of that as much as it responded to the way Poe was sucking stray droplets of water off my collarbone. I sank a bit on the wall, which put the rest of my body into a very interesting position in relation to his thigh.
Okay, this was swiftly getting out of hand. How recently had I promised to instill a moratorium on the Y chromosome? “Wait, wait,” I gasped.
He pulled away, doing a bit of gasping of his own.
I tightened the knot on my towel, since I wasn’t sure what else to do with my hands. “What the hell? What was that?”
He smiled, a smirk so wolfish that I thought for a second he’d been taking lessons from George Harrison Prescott. “I wanted to make sure. That this afternoon wasn’t a dream.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“But this is—what are we doing?”
“I have no idea,” he admitted.
“All we did today was fight. Fight and make out.”
“One more thing than we usually do.”
“That doesn’t work for me,” I said. “I’ve spent the whole afternoon so confused.”
“Yeah. I know the feeling.”
“Well, you’re not helping. What was that thing in the tomb?”
“What thing?”
I rubbed my head. My hair was in mats. “You know. The plate thing.”
Recognition dawned on his shadow
ed face. “It was a joke.”
“You don’t make jokes.”
“You laughed. I wanted to make you laugh.” He gave a little self-mocking sigh, as if the very idea of going out of his way to amuse me baffled him as well. “I wanted to make you look at me. You’d been ignoring me all day.”
Ha! I almost shouted it. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Up against the wall, once again. And oh my Persephone, it was marvelous. But once again I pushed him away. You know, after a bit.
“We need to talk,” I insisted, one hand holding up my towel, the other warding him off.
“I object to that plan on several levels.”
“No. We need to talk about this.” I hesitated, took a deep breath. “Before it can continue.”
Now he looked interested. “What shall I tell you? That I spent the entire day thinking about the many ways I messed up out there on the beach? I mean, you threw yourself at me and I still fucked it up.”
“I did not throw myself at you,” I exclaimed, appalled. “Take that back.”
“Done.” He smiled down at me, pushed some hair out of my face, and then shocked me anew. “And then, this evening…it’s been one too many things happening to you recently.”
“This happened to all of the Diggirls.”
“Being called a slut or having your computer trashed is not the same as a death threat. And that’s what you got. A death threat. You, Amy. Not the rest of them. On top of yesterday, on top of this whole semester…”
“That was Dragon’s Head.”
“What if this is Dragon’s Head?”
“It’s not.”
“And you know that how?”
Because I trusted that Felicity would keep her word. She’d promised Brandon she’d stop. If he chose her. And he did, but it had nothing to do with me. He chose her because he loved her. He loved her, and he did not love me anymore. I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes before Poe could see them. He’d already seen me cry too much over another boy. “Do you really think they’d devote their last Spring Break to tormenting me?”
“Sounds like a pretty decent time to me. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”
I pursed my lips. “Define ‘torment.’”
He looked almost ready to grin at that one, but clearly wasn’t finished with the lecture. “Someone’s on this island, Amy, and you’re way too visible. To the patriarchs, to the conspiracy theorists, to Dragon’s Head. And yeah, you’re the one I worry about. I’m sure the others are lovely girls—except Jenny, who needs to be taken down a peg or two—but you’re the one…”
He didn’t finish that thought. Thank God.
“I can’t believe you’re taking this so lightly!” he said, changing tactics. “Are you that accustomed to prompting death threats that you take them all in stride?”
“I didn’t think of it as a death threat!” I cried. Until now, of course. “They just trashed our cabin. Nothing violent. You’re the one who keeps talking about violence. You’re the only person who is taking that spray paint seriously.”
“Yeah, and that’s also unlike you. Aren’t you the girl who came to me last year because of a trashed room?”
“No, I went to you because of a missing girl!”
“Well, I’m not going to wait for you to go missing.” Said with the utmost finality.
That made me pause for just a moment, but I regrouped. “There is no reason to think this was anything more than standard, senseless vandalism, no matter who’s responsible.”
Poe just stood there for a second, as if weighing his words. “There’s more. Stuff I didn’t say at the meeting.” He grabbed my hand. “I have to show you something.”
I pulled back. “Let me get dressed first.”
“Fine.” But he just stood there, arms crossed, dark hair falling into his eyes.
“Um, could you please turn around or something?”
A ghost of a smile. “Make me.”
I yanked the shower curtain shut between us.
Combed and dressed, but still damp, I let Poe lead me across the compound and down the path to the docks. Our journey was silent, but with none of the awkwardness that had marked our last walk together. Perhaps we stood more closely than usual, but otherwise, there was no sign of the heat that had so recently consumed us both.
When we reached the boats, I drew back. “This is as far as I go.”
“The boat won’t leave the dock. I wouldn’t even know how to do that. Get on.”
I groaned and followed him aboard the smaller boat. Poe picked up a flashlight from a box in the cabin and walked over to the railing. “Look at this.” He knelt and shined the flashlight at the railing. I saw a series of scratches in the paint around the hole that, until recently, had held the chain in place. The chain I’d broken through as soon as I fell against it.
“What am I looking at?”
“Someone stripped the joint.”
“It just wore thin.”
“No. You can tell by the markings. It was a screwdriver or something. I’ve built enough porches and trellises in my time to tell the difference. This thing was going to blow the second someone put weight on it.”
I made a face. “There’s no way that anyone could have known it was going to be me. It was just a coincidence that I was standing by this rail.”
“But you’re the only one who could have been really hurt if you did fall.”
“Anyone can get hurt falling off a boat.”
“You’re the only one who can’t swim.”
I stared at him and everything clicked into place. “Jamie—”
“And there’s more,” he said.
I crouched beside him and cupped my hand around his chin.
“I have to show you the life jacket. I—”
I shook my head and kissed him. “Stop.”
When I opened my eyes, his expression was confused.
“No one is after me. I promise. I know you feel guilty about scaring me at the initiation last spring. But stop beating yourself up about it. I’m fine. I’m not angry at you anymore.”
“This isn’t about last spring.”
“Yes it is. You’re the only person who spends any time at all thinking about my phobia. And it’s making you read into things.” I stood and brushed off my knees. “And that’s me telling you this. The Diggers’ resident conspiracy theorist…and pain in the ass. So you know it’s the truth.”
He swept to his feet and walked across the deck. I stood there, waiting, letting the night breeze blow around my face and cool my skin. Poe leaned against the far rail, staring out to sea and watching the play of starlight on the water. After a while, I walked across the deck and joined him. Minutes passed.
“I just kept thinking that if I hadn’t…done that to you…” he said at last. “That maybe you wouldn’t hate me.”
“That’s silly,” I said. “I hated you for much better reasons than that.”
“But not anymore?”
I looked down at our hands, beside one another on the rail, and twined mine in his. “Nope. Not anymore.”
“Because of yesterday?”
“Stop asking me that.” I squeezed his hand once, then let it go. “Ask the real question.”
He was silent for a long time. “Fine. What is this?”
I shut my eyes tight against the sight of the water and the night, but I could hear the sea slapping against the side of the boat. I could hear Poe breathing, and over it all, I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.
It’s Spring Break.
CONCLUSIONS I REACHED LAST NIGHT
1) The view from a boat railing is a lot more enjoyable when the boat is only three inches from land.
2) As with the SATs, if you don’t know the answer to a question, you’re better off skipping it.
3) I’m not giving up on boys. Not yet anyway.
4) Kisses Nice.
CONCLUSIONS POE AND I REACHED TOGETHER LAST NIGHT
1
) It’s very unlikely that anyone is after me, in particular. For nefarious purposes anyway.
2) For the time being, we will not mention our private time to anyone else.
3) See #4 above.
I know nothing about conclusions Poe may have reached on his own. Like I said, the boy is very hard to read.
When I finally returned to the cabin, the girls were all sharing guilty expressions, and for a second I thought they suspected everything.
“We were just talking,” Clarissa said, “and we think we owe you an apology.”
“For what?” I was truly mystified.
“For putting you on the spot about George,” Demetria said. “Glass houses and all.”
I looked at the three of them. “It’s fine.”
“You don’t need to avoid us, is all we’re saying. We won’t talk about it anymore,” Jenny said. She was on the floor with a screwdriver and computer innards.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Clarissa shook her head. “Come on, Amy, you weren’t in the shower all this time.”
I decided to pretend that their apology was acceptable to me, and that I wouldn’t avoid them anymore. Except I was hoping to get in another swimming lesson with Poe tomorrow morning. Or “swimming lesson,” as it were. I feared feigning interest in an isolated jog would prompt a request from Demetria to join me, so I decided to just let the whole situation work itself out tomorrow, and spent the rest of the evening learning how to construct a working computer from slightly battered scraps.
Jenny really is a genius.
And as I settled into bed that night, it occurred to me that knowledge of that sort of thing was bothering me less and less as time went on. I hadn’t gone to Andover, or Horace Mann or Eton. My high school had been the average kind, and I’d been the best student there. Such was not the case at Eli. Here, I was surrounded by geniuses. I’d figured out early in my college career that there were people like Jenny and Brandon and Lydia and Josh—truly brilliant, truly luminous, whose names would appear in history books that my children and grandchildren would read, and there were people like George and Odile—who through beauty and charm and personality would make the cult of celebrity their own. And then there were people like me. People who, through the arbitrary wisdom of the admissions office, might share space with the big shots for four years, might be their friends, their confidantes, their associates, their lovers—but would live a life well below the global radar. I knew it, and over the years, I’d come to accept it.
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