by Kieran Scott
“She, however, is not,” I laughed.
“Whoo hoo!” Annie shouted, throwing her arms up and releasing her joy toward the bay. We were standing just outside the side door of the small house, on what was once probably a pretty patio, but was now a kind of sunken, overgrown rock garden. All over the yard, the party stragglers hung on by a thread, trying to extend the night into dawn. A couple of guys played beer pong on a dilapidated Ping-Pong tabletop balanced atop a precarious pile of laundry baskets, fish crates, and beer cases. A girl in a cowboy hat leaned back on an inflatable chair, braiding the hair of the chick sprawled across her lap. Closer to the makeshift bar, half a dozen bikini top/miniskirt-wearing chicas danced and occasionally cheered, while a pair of dudes too drunk to rouse themselves looked on and nodded appreciatively.
“Have I mentioned I like her?” Cooper asked, pointing.
I laughed. “She’s a keeper. Don’t worry. I’m gonna drive her car back.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look worried. “So . . .” He took a step toward me. His hand ran up and down my bare arm. Goose bump city. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
He leaned down to kiss me, closed-mouthed but lingering; his soft lips offered the promise of more. Then he stepped back again.
“Bye,” he said.
“Bye.”
He dropped his head forward as he loped back toward the house over the uneven paving stones of the patio. I bit my bottom lip, but felt like my grin would break off my face.
That was not odd.
“So, I guess we’re over Jake,” Annie said, standing stiller than she had in hours.
I lifted my shoulders, even as a twist of guilt took me by surprise. “I tried to tell you.”
“But you have to admit, it was pretty romantic,” Annie said. “Him running up the steps, slamming his hand into the wall . . .”
Together we headed for the broken gate in the white fence that surrounded the property. Annie stepped over a pile of beer cans and kicked aside a half-inflated kiddie pool, nearly tripping herself. I put out a hand to steady her.
“Yeah.” It was. It was really romantic. And also humiliating. And exciting. And confusing. And annoying. And all-consuming. All I’d thought about for the rest of the night was Jake . . . and whether or not Cooper wanted to kiss me again. How could I possibly be all-consumed by one guy and feeling tingly about another?
As we made it to the gate, a very tall, very thin guy was coming through with a pastry bag. He had a short beard and shaggy black hair. The sun was just starting to come up over the far side of the house, lighting his face and making him squint. I gave him a glance and kept walking, but something in his eyes made me stop dead in my tracks.
It was fear.
And I knew him.
I turned around.
“Charlie!?”
He ducked his chin and looked up at me, almost sheepish. “Whatsup, Al?”
Annie raised one eyebrow as he turned around.
“Charlie! Oh my God! What are you doing here?”
I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Should I hug him? No. I’d never hugged him before, so why start now? But I was so surprised to see him. And he looked so very different. When he’d left Orchard Hill, he’d been clean-cut and athletic, bulky even. The guy standing in front of me now with his shorts hanging just south of his hip bones was lean, lanky, and possibly stoned. He swayed a bit on his feet and placed the pastry bag down on a weathered Adirondack chair just outside the gate, as if its weight was throwing off his equilibrium.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” he said.
“Don’t tell anyone what?” I asked.
He sighed and took a couple of steps toward me. When he looked up, he narrowed one eye. “That you saw me?”
Now Annie was intrigued. She stood right next to me and looked into his face like she was trying to place him. He shot her a kind of wary look and held his hand above his eyes to shield them from the brightening sun.
“No. Of course not,” I said. “But . . . why? I mean, what are you doing here?” I asked again.
“I live here.” He gestured lazily over his shoulder. “This is my place.”
I narrowed my eyes. My brain, apparently, was tired after a full night of partying and drama. I’d met Howie, a slightly chubby, self-proclaimed hacker extraordinaire with Coke-bottle glasses. Which could mean only one thing. “You’re Chum?”
His head bobbed. “Short for Chuck Moore.”
“Shut up!” Annie had finally caught on. “You’re Charlie Moore? Shannen’s brother?”
He reared his head back, showing us the underside of his chin. I shot Annie a just chill look.
“I thought you were in Arizona,” I said.
“She told you that, huh?” He sat down sideways on the edge of the Adirondack chair and ran his hand over his hair. “I was . . . for a while. But it just wasn’t my scene. I moved back here last year and got a job with a security company. You know . . . one of those places all our parents hire to check on the houses during the year?”
I nodded. My parents used to employ one of those. I’d never forget that one December night they’d called at two a.m. to tell my dad an alarm had gone off at the shore house. He was out the door in ten minutes and called us two and a half hours later to tell us a wood plank had shattered a window in a windstorm. He’d fired the company the next day for not actually checking the house before calling him.
“So you’re not in school?” I asked. The very idea of Charlie Moore—über-popular, three-varsity-letter-athlete, everyone-wants-me-as-a-prom-date Charlie Moore—not being in school simply made no sense.
“I’m taking classes at Monmouth,” he said.
“Oh. Cool.”
He should’ve been at Yale, debating politics in some elite study group. He should have been at Michigan scoring winning goals in Big Ten soccer games. He should have been at UCLA, surfing and making all the girls swoon.
“Anyway, you can’t tell Shannen you saw me, okay?” He stood up again and ran his hands down the backside of his plaid shorts. “She thinks I’m this big thing at Arizona State.”
“I promise, I won’t say anything,” I told him. “We’re not currently speaking, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“What?” He looked baffled. Like imagining me and Shannen not being friends was as hard to picture as him being a stoner at Monmouth State. “Why?”
“It’s a loooong story,” Annie said. He eyed her warily. “For another time,” she added.
“I don’t live on the crest anymore,” I said. “We’ve kind of . . . grown apart.”
I wasn’t about to tell him his adorably mischievous little sister had grown into an evil troll.
“Oh.” He nodded as if this made perfect sense as an explanation.
“But I don’t get it,” I said. “Why come here of all places? All our friends spend their summers down here. Did you really think you could go without seeing them?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Figured if I hung with the locals, I’d never bump into anyone. And I never did . . . till now.”
We both smiled.
“Well . . . I guess we should go,” I said, edging away. “I guess I’ll . . .”
“See you around?” Charlie said. “Cool.”
I nodded and Annie and I headed for her car. She grabbed my arm as she made her way over the uneven gravel.
“Charlie Moore!” she squealed under her breath. “Do you realize what this means?”
I realized exactly what it meant. It meant I had a secret to keep from Shannen. Just like the one she’d kept from me. And I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.
Suddenly, my phone rang. I looked at Annie, confused. My mother had stopped calling around two a.m. when I texted her that I was fine and was going to crash at a friend’s with Annie. She’d texted back that we were going to have a “long talk today”—a promise that made my stomach clench every time I remembered it—and my phone h
adn’t made a peep since. “What time is it?”
She checked her watch. “Five fifteen.”
I fumbled my phone from my pocket. The call was coming from Jump. What the hell was my father doing calling me at five a.m.? Had my mother called him to tattle on me? Was I in trouble? Seemed unlikely, since they weren’t speaking, but I couldn’t think of another reason. I decided to bite the bullet and answer it.
“Hello?”
“Ally, good morning,” my father said. He was frazzled. He always sounded formal when he was frazzled. “Sorry to call so early, but have you seen Jake?”
I shook my head slightly, trying to make sense of my dad asking that question, via phone, at dawn. For some reason, I instantly knew I had to lie.
“Um . . . no,” I replied. “Why?”
He muttered something I didn’t understand. “He ditched in the middle of his shift last night; went on his break and just didn’t come back. It was mayhem here. Just mayhem. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
I was stunned. Jake had bailed on my dad to come down here? I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or flattered.
“I called his mother and she had no idea where he was. We thought he might have gone down there.”
I pressed my lips together and stayed silent.
“Well, if you see him, please tell him to call me,” my father said.
“Sure, Dad,” I said.
“Okay. Thanks, kiddo. Go back to sleep.”
I closed my eyes as a seagull cawed overhead. “Okay. Bye, Dad.”
“What was that?” Annie asked as I hung up.
“That was just me lying to my dad to protect Jake,” I said matter-of-factly.
Annie laughed. “This just gets better and better.”
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Can I ask you something?”
She shrugged, and almost knocked herself over doing it. “A’course.”
“The other day, when you said you had Crestie dirt, was it about Jake?” I asked.
She blew out her lips. “No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, yes.”
She turned and clomped toward her car.
“What was it? Annie!” I jogged after her. She yanked on the passenger side door, but it was locked. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Is he going out with someone? You have to tell me.”
“It’s nothing,” Annie said. Then she looked at me, all defeated. “Can you please open my door?”
I tossed the keys up and grabbed them in front of her face. “Only if you tell me.”
She rolled her eyes hugely. “Okaaaay!” She gave me this hesitant sort of look. “He came into the store looking for you.”
“He did?” I asked.
“Yeah. He went up and down all the aisles and everything, then bought some mints and left them there.”
I considered this. “Did he ask about me?”
“No. But it was obvious why he was there.” She turned back toward the car and pulled on the handle with both hands. “Can we go now?” she whined.
“In a minute.” I leaned back against the door and studied her face. She refused to make eye contact. “That’s it? That’s all you have to tell me?” I wheedled.
She nodded. “Yup. That’s it.”
“Swear?”
“Swear.” Then she glanced at my newish sandals. “Can we go now before I barf on your feet?”
I stuck my tongue between my teeth. “Ish. Fine.”
But as I trudged across the uneven dirt to the driver’s side of the car, I didn’t entirely believe her. Something else had happened. I was kind of dying to know what, but I took comfort in the fact that she’d tell me at some point. Eventually my little gossip-hound best friend always cracked.
All night I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy Ally was with. His cocky face. That toolbox hair. He’d had his hands on her back, right above her waistband. That was the thing that kept coming back to me, and it made me feel sick every time it did. He didn’t get to touch her like that. No one got to touch her like that.
I knew I had to get home and deal with the fallout. My mom had called me forty-two times the night before. Finally, once the party was over, she’d gotten through to Hammond’s mom, who’d come into Ham’s room still holding the phone at, like, one a.m. She’d told me my mom was too angry to talk to me, but that she didn’t want me driving home in the middle of the night. I was supposed to be back at my house by ten this morning. It was already nine fifteen as I walked down the beach toward Dr. Nathanson’s house. So yeah. That wasn’t going to happen.
I stopped on the sand and flexed my hand, wincing as it throbbed through the gauze Faith had wrapped around my knuckles. Clenching my teeth, I looked up at the house. Ally was in there somewhere, probably still sleeping. I knew what Hammond would say if he saw me.
Why was I going back for round two? How far up my ass was my head?
But I knew why. It was that thing Ally had said about how I never explained. It had been driving me nuts all night. Because she was right. That day outside Jump, I avoided it. I had hoped we’d never have to go there, that we could just pretend like nothing had happened. And she’d called me on it. She’d called me on my bullshit. So now I had to explain. Just to prove to her that I wasn’t the jackass she thought I was.
And there was something else, too. I could’ve sworn, when she’d first seen me, for just a second, she was happy I was there. There was a split second, when my hand was pulsating and my blood was rushing in my ears, that I thought she was going to throw her arms around me. I hadn’t imagined it. It was real. I just had to get her to look at me like that again.
I blew out a breath and walked slowly up the stairs to the deck. I was halfway there, when a sliding glass door opened overhead. Ally stepped out onto a smaller deck. She was wearing her Orchard Hill High soccer T-shirt. The one she got for being a backslapper—my backslapper. Was that a good sign?
“What are you doing here?” she snapped.
Okay. Maybe not a good sign.
“Can I talk to you?”
She glanced over her shoulder and groaned. “I’ll be right down.”
She was gone for about thirty seconds. I didn’t understand how she could make it seem like it was such a chore just to fucking talk to me, when all I wanted to do was talk to her. Then the door to the big deck opened and she came out. I walked up the last few steps. She looked tired, but it didn’t matter. She was still beautiful. Maybe I should say that. Maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.
I opened my mouth to talk.
“So, you ditched out on my dad last night, huh?”
My tongue turned to dust. “What?”
“He called this morning looking for you,” she said.
Fuck. “What did you tell him?”
She rolled her eyes. Already this was not going as planned. “I told him I hadn’t seen you.”
I sank down on the nearest lounge chair and put my head in my hands. I was kind of surprised by how sick and guilty I felt. The gauze on my right hand grazed my temple. “Thank you.”
“Thank you? That’s it? I lied to my father for you,” she said, hovering over me.
I lifted a shoulder and leaned back on my hands. “So? Payback’s a bitch.”
She looked stunned. Like I’d just slapped her. “So . . . what? Because he left us for two years I should punish him by lying to him?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. Just . . . he lied to you, so . . .” I realized, suddenly, that this was not the right conversation. “Forget it. I don’t know what I meant.” I stood up again and blew out another breath. I kneaded my brow with my fist, trying to get my thoughts in order. “This was not how this was supposed to go.”
“Then maybe you should just leave.”
She turned and started for the door, and suddenly, I was pissed. How many times did I have to try with her?
“What’s the matter with you?” I blurted.
“What?” She whirled ar
ound.
“I said, what’s the matter with you?” I repeated. “What the hell did I do that was so bad? So I knew where your dad was. What did you expect me to do? How was I supposed to tell you that? It was none of my business. And you . . . I . . . we were just starting to . . . you know . . .”
I groaned, frustrated. Why couldn’t I just say what I was thinking? We were just starting to hook up. I was just starting to like her. I was just starting to think that I maybe wanted her to be my girlfriend. And I was supposed to do . . . what? Deliver her the most awful fucking news of her life?
“So what you did was better?” she demanded. “Keeping the secret? Laughing at me behind my back with all your little friends?”
I shook my head. “No one was laughing at you.”
And if they had I would’ve beat their ass.
Her hands dropped to her sides. “Oh, come on, Jake! You were there! At Shannen’s party? Everyone was laughing at me. If you had just told me . . . if I had known . . . I never would’ve gone there. That whole night never had to happen.”
“So I fucked up,” I said, lifting my shoulders. I had this desperate feeling inside my chest. Like I just wanted to grab her and shake her, or grab her and kiss her. Whatever it took to make her stop talking and go back to liking me. “What am I supposed to do about it now?”
“Nothing,” she replied. She had this condescending smirk on. It made me feel like shit. “You’re not supposed to do anything, Jake. You’re just . . . you’re not the person I thought you were.”
Ow. Ow. That literally effing hurt.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “I’m not good enough for you now?”
She shook her head slowly and looked at the ground. Her hand was on the door handle and all I could think was, I have to stop her from sliding that door open. If she slides that door open, it’s over.
“No, it’s not that,” she said to the wooden slats under her feet. “It’s just . . . this year sucked. I mean it really, really sucked. But you . . . you were the one thing that just . . . didn’t.”
Okay. That sounded good. So why with the gut pain?