SSDTU 2 - He’s So not Worth It

by Kieran Scott

  As I reached the Boulevard I stopped and stared across the street at the red stop hand telling me not to cross. Cars full of beachgoers, shoppers, boaters, and nature-seekers zoomed by, heading merrily to their destinations, and suddenly I felt completely exhausted. And not just because of the sun. Or the hustle and bustle, which was steadily climbing toward that midsummer crescendo. I felt exhausted by all the thinking. All the feeling. All the everything.

  Maybe Dex and Cooper did kind of have a point. I hadn’t ever asked where the beer came from, and I’d never offered to help pay. Was it possible that I’d kind of known in the back of my mind that there was something not quite right about the whole thing? Had I just been so wrapped up in my own crap lately that I chose not to think about it?

  The light turned green. I crossed the street and headed up the wood plank steps into Schooner’s Wharf, arguably the “downtown” area of LBI with its many shops and restaurants. My stomach grumbled as the scent of grilled burgers hit my nostrils, and I turned my steps toward the Gazebo. If I wasn’t going to be getting chowder with my friends, I might as well drown my sorrows in a burger and a milk shake.

  I was just about to walk into the restaurant when Shannen and Faith came out of the T-shirt shop nearby. Faith had a small shopping bag—the kind that comes with jewelry—and Shannen was texting on her phone. Faith and I both stopped walking, but Shannen bumped right into me.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re—”

  She saw it was me and tucked the phone into the pocket of her short plaid shorts. “Oh. Hey. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said automatically.

  For a long moment, we all just stood there. Faith pointedly looked away from me. Shannen struck a kind of defiant pose, one knee cocked, fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts.

  These people used to be my best friends. We’d told each other everything. Now I couldn’t even look them in the eye.

  “What’re you up to?” Shannen asked finally.

  Breaking the law, I thought, but didn’t say.

  “I was just going to get some food,” I said, gesturing over my shoulder at the open-air tables outside the restaurant.

  “We were going to the candy store,” Faith said, looking past me.

  Shannen squinted as the screen door to the candy shop squealed open and banged shut. “Remember those swirled lollipop things we used to be addicted to?”

  Faith looked at her shoes. “You guys liked those. They made me sick.”

  I smirked. “Remember when you barfed on Mrs. Appleby’s life-size carousel horse?”

  “That thing deserved to be barfed on,” Shannen joked.

  “I had actual nightmares about that horse,” Faith said. “Remember its—”

  “Red eyes!” Shannen and I said at the same time.

  And we all laughed.

  I sighed and looked down at the uneven bricks beneath my feet. My heart felt like it was pushing against cling wrap, tugging it, twisting it, trying to break free.

  You hate these people, my brain said. But that stupid heart again . . . it was telling me I didn’t.

  “I guess one lollipop couldn’t hurt,” I said.

  “Believe me, it could,” Faith replied, sticking her tongue out.

  “So we’ll get you a pretzel,” Shannen said, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the store. “Let’s go.”

  I followed them slowly, part of me still wanting to bolt, still screaming that it was a bad idea to hang out with them—to trust them. But then, who in my life could I really trust right now? And besides, I was going to need a ride home at some point. As Shannen pushed open the swinging screen door and the familiar, sugary scent hit me full force, I decided not to think about anything for the next fifteen minutes. It was just one lollipop, after all. I could worry about what it meant later.

  Daily Field Journal of Annie Johnston Wednesday, July 21

  Location: Orchard Hill Country Club pool.

  Cover: Pretending I lost my iPod when I was here last week as a guest of Misty Carlton’s. (I’ve never spoken to Misty Carlton.) I told the guy behind the welcome desk, then snuck out here while he went to retrieve the lost and found box.

  Observations:

  1:05 p.m.: There’s practically no one here. And the few people here are parents. Can’t believe I used that excuse for this epic fail.

  1:07 p.m.: A security guy steps out the back door, his eyes scanning the area. I duck behind the laundry cart full of freshly cleaned OHCC towels. He strides by. As I step out, bent on escape, I notice Subject Mrs. Graydon at the poolside bar, sipping an ice water with Subject Mrs. Stein. This could be something. I move closer.

  1:08 p.m.: I sit on an empty stool two seats away from Subject Mrs. Graydon and start to casually snack. (Note: These peanuts are AWESOME.)

  Mrs. Graydon: . . . think it really was the best thing for him this summer. I can’t believe the way he’s applied himself.

  Mrs. Stein: I’d ground my kids if I could. It never takes.

  Mrs. Graydon: What does that mean, it never takes?

  Mrs. Stein (takes a slug of her white wine): You could lock those two in a steel vault and they’d find a way out. Anything to see their little friends.

  Mrs. Graydon (looks disturbed for a moment): Yes, well, the only friend Jake has seen this summer is Chloe Appleby. And that’s one connection I don’t mind making an exception for.

  Mrs. Stein (eyes wide): Do you think they’re . . .

  Mrs. Graydon: (Smiles like a sly cat and lifts one shoulder.)

  Mrs. Stein: Huh. We all thought Chloe and Hammond were going to end up married.

  Mrs. Graydon: Yes, well. Things change.

  1:10 p.m.: I fall off my stool from leaning too far to the side. (Note: It’s difficult to hear over peanuts crunching in your mouth.) Am summarily escorted from the premises.

  It was a Friday afternoon smack in the middle of summer. The sun was out. The skateboarders were skateboarding. And I was sitting on the grass in Veterans’ Park, studying.

  Something was seriously wrong with this picture. At least anyone who passed by would see I had a hot girl by my side. That was something.

  “I actually really liked this book,” Chloe said, stretching out on her stomach on the blanket she’d brought. She propped up on her elbows, with This Side of Paradise open in front of her face. “I’ve never read anything like it. Have you?”

  She looked back at me, her hair sliding down over her bare shoulder. Bare because of the skinny-strapped sundress she was wearing. I raised my eyebrows. She couldn’t be serious.

  “Oh, right. You don’t read,” she said.

  “Unless you count cereal boxes,” I replied. I picked up my own book and crossed my legs. “And I’m usually half-asleep when I read those, so the words don’t really sink in.”

  Chloe laughed and sat up again, rolling one shoulder back. “But you did read this. I mean, you answered all my study questions with no problem.”

  That’s what we’d been doing for the last hour. Going over the study questions she’d searched for on the Internet and printed out. Girl knew some tricks when it came to studying.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Goot,” she said with a nod and smile.

  “Goot,” I joked back.

  She sighed and reached into her canvas bag for a granola bar. She offered one to me and I took it, keeping to my policy of never turning down food. A breeze rustled her notebook and she put her bag on top of it. She broke off a tiny corner of her bar and popped it into her mouth.

  “Are you and Shannen talking?” she asked suddenly.

  I clicked my teeth together. “Not really. Are you and Shannen talking?”

  She shrugged. “Nope.”

  We both stared across the park as some scruffy-looking kids jumped their skateboards over the steps.

  “What’re we going to do when we get back to school?” she asked. “Everything’s so screwed up.”

  “I don’t
know.”

  I hadn’t really thought about it, but she was right. With her and Hammond not together anymore, and her and Shannen not together anymore, her only real friends would be Faith and me and the Idiot Twins. But she and I had never really been friends. And I had a feeling she just kind of tolerated the twins. Like they were little brothers you couldn’t ditch. I didn’t really have a big interest in hanging with Faith, so that left me with Hammond and the twins, and no Shannen or Ally.

  God. This sucked.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I said.

  “Yes. Let’s.” Chloe gave a quick nod and had another bit of her granola bar. “Summer is no time for heavy thoughts.”

  “It’s no time for studying, either, but—” I lifted my book.

  “You’re right.”

  She grabbed it out of my hand and threw it on the grass about five feet away, along with her own. Then she lay down on her back on the blanket and tipped her chin up, letting out a sigh as she gazed up at the sky. She looked beautiful like that, her hair all splayed out around her. My heart did this weird skip thing. If I were anyone else, or she were anyone else, I would have kissed her right then. Because how could I not?

  “Come on. Let’s look at the clouds.”

  She put her hand on my arm, and I felt a stirring of attraction. I swallowed hard and lay down next to her, but kept a good distance between us. This was normal, right? I mean, she was gorgeous. Didn’t mean I had to do anything about it.

  “You’re different this summer,” I said.

  She shielded her eyes with her hand and looked at me. “I am?”

  I nodded and folded my hands on my stomach. “More . . . chill.”

  “And, what? I’m usually uptight and lame?” she asked with a laugh.

  “No! Not . . . I just—”

  “I’m kidding. I get it.” She went back to looking at the sky. “I don’t know what it is, but I just feel more relaxed this summer.”

  “It’s kinda nice,” I said, moving my head around on the ground until I found a comfortable spot.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe grin. “Thanks. I think so too.”

  My fingers were sticky with ice cream and there was a smear of fudge across the front of my Take a Dip shirt that looked like something far less sweet. Large clumps of my hair had hardened due to an unexpected whipped cream explosion, and I was pretty sure there was chocolate on the back of my neck. As I walked across the great room at Gray’s house, I just prayed he was down at the beach, because if he saw me looking like this, he was going to throw on a hazmat suit and spray me down with bleach.

  I heard a voice as my foot hit the bottom stair, and I froze. My mom was out on the deck and the door was open, but the screen door was closed. I glanced over my shoulder. She was on the phone. And I’d swear I just heard her say the name Chris.

  A quick glance and a listen told me no one was around. Holding my breath, I tiptoed toward the door, making sure to stay out of view behind the thick, open curtains.

  “. . . don’t think you realize what it was like for me,” my mother said, her voice carried in by the ocean breeze. “I never stopped loving you, Christopher.”

  My hand flew up to cover my heart. My mom was actually talking to my dad! She’d just told him she loved him!

  “Of course,” she said. “Of course I did. Why do you think I was so mad?”

  I heard a squeak and knew she’d sat down on one of the lounge chairs. I took an instinctive step back, but couldn’t get myself to move away. If something important was going to be said here, I wanted to be around to hear it.

  “All I wanted was for you to come back,” my mother said quietly. “For the longest time . . . that was all I wanted.”

  I bit my lip giddily and did a happy little dance. This was so awesome! I wondered if she’d called him or if she’d finally picked up one of his calls. What had sparked her change of heart? Had she finally softened after seeing him that day in the city? Actually, who even cared? My parents were talking again. And from the sound of things, it was going well.

  The clanging of the doorbell scared the crap out of me. My mom stopped talking and I sprinted for the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying to make it look like I’d been in there all along.

  “I’ll get it!” I shouted as my mom stuck her head through the door.

  “Oh. Ally. I didn’t even realize you were home,” she said.

  “Hi!” I shouted, running across the living room and trying as hard as I could not to sound too giddy. I yanked the door open as my mom returned to the deck. Cooper was standing on the front step. My heart caught at the sight of him. We hadn’t spoken since the beer theft debacle. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts and gave me a sheepish look.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I didn’t look as if an ice-cream shop had combusted all over me. “Hey.”

  “Look, I just stopped by to say I’m sorry,” he told me. “We should have at least told you what we were doing there.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder toward the deck. “You should’ve.”

  “But it’s not like we were gonna get caught,” Cooper implored. “We never have before.”

  “Yeah, well. You could have,” I said.

  “But we didn’t,” he said, lowering his chin.

  “But you could have,” I replied, feeling exasperated.

  Cooper blew out a sigh and stared at his feet. “Can we just, like, agree to disagree?” He looked up at me through his blond bangs and bit his lip. Damn. Why did he have to be so adorable?

  “Fine,” I said. “As long as you never take me along again.”

  Cooper grinned slowly. “Come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t get something out of it. Just a teeny adrenaline rush?”

  I stared at him, but found I couldn’t keep a straight face, more because I was psyched about my parents than anything else, but still.

  “I knew it!” he crowed.

  “Shut up!” I slapped his chest with the back of my hand. “I didn’t. Seriously. I don’t want to get arrested. It’s the last thing I need.”

  “Fine,” he agreed. “You will be kept in the dark from now on. And I’m sorry about that crack I made about money. I know you’re not one of them. It’s just . . . it’s easy to forget.” He looked around the spacious, million-dollar living room and lifted his palms.

  “Yeah. I guess I could see that.” I took a step back. “You wanna come in? I was just gonna take a shower, but then we could go down to the beach if you want.”

  “Cool.” Cooper stepped inside, rubbing his hands together. “Just so we’re clear, are you inviting me into the shower or just to the beach?” he joked.

  I guffawed. “Shhh! My mom’s right outside.”

  “Oh.” He cringed. “Oops. Maybe I’ll just watch TV then.”

  “Yeah. Good idea,” I said laughingly. I shoved him toward the couch, not even bothering to tell him to take his shoes off, and jogged for the stairs. Who cared about Gray’s stupid rules anyway? Before long, he was going to be out of my life for good. As I went by the screen door, I trained my ears for the sound of my mom’s voice, but this time I didn’t catch any of her conversation.

  But I did hear her laugh. And that could only be a good sign.

  Mr. Ferguson (aka Mr. Froggy) walked into class with a pile of white paper under his arm. My blood pressure instantly skyrocketed. This always happened at the sight of tests. I was never nervous until I saw with my own eyes that it was actually going to happen.

  He put the pile down on his desk and the rotating fan in the corner blew them toward the door. A girl in the front row jumped up to help pick them up. He thanked her, then clutched them as he looked at the five rows full of students.

  “Thees test comprises tweentee multiple choice queeestions eend one eeessay,” he told us. I cracked a smile, but didn’t laugh. I was getting used to the accent. Also, I felt like I was go
ing to pee my pants. He started to hand out the papers. “Theee multiple choice eees deesigned to eeeelucidate your understanding of theee mateeeriell. Thee eeesay will reeequire some . . . original thought.”

  He placed a test down on my desk, the final test in the final row. “Goot luck.”

  As he walked away, I looked at Chloe. “Goot luck,” she whispered.

  I tried to smile—it didn’t work—and I looked at the page.

  I knew the first answer. And the second. I also knew the third. My heart started to pound for a new and unfamiliar reason. I knew the answers. I didn’t even have to think about it. I just knew. I grinned. I went through the multiple choice in ten minutes. Then I turned the page over to make sure I wasn’t missing something. I wasn’t. All that was left was the essay.

  I looked around. Waited for the punch line. This was like a reverse nightmare. A couple of rows over, a girl chewed on her nails. I could see she’d only answered three questions.

  Don’t be a dick, I told myself. Check it over. There must be something wrong.

  I went back and read the questions again, slowly, like my SAT tutor was always telling me. But all my answers were right. I was sure of it.

  Chloe shot me a concerned look. I guess she read all my fidgeting as a bad sign, but it wasn’t. I lifted my shoulders and glanced at the clock. I had forty minutes to write the essay. Usually I had to scribble out answers in huge handwriting with the clock ticking away the last five minutes of class, mocking me with every click.

  This. Was. Awesome.

  Daily Field Journal of Annie Johnston Friday, July 23

  Position: Corner of Orchard Avenue and Walnut Street.

  Cover: None. I’m on my bike. Ready to go.

  Observations:

  (Note: I’m stationed here waiting for Subject Chloe Appleby and Subject Jake Graydon to return from the thrice-weekly jaunt to wherever the hell they’re jaunting. They have to drive by here to get to the crest, and when they do, I’ll follow them to wherever they go next. I owe it to Ally to find out what’s going on. And to my future literary career.)