Saltwater Secrets

by Cindy Callaghan

  “They aren’t dirty,” she said.

  He held one hand in front of my nose and the other in front of Josie’s. “Smell.”

  We did.

  “This place has incredible soap. I’m dying to know if it’s the same in the girls’ room. This is a news story in the making. A comparison of soap up and down the boardwalk. And right now, I gotta tell you, this place is in the lead.” He smelled his hands again.

  Josie said, “I’ll admit. That’s some nice-smelling soap, but I don’t know if the topic has news potential.”

  “Just do me a favor and check the soap,” Dario said. “I know what’s news.”

  I went for the popcorn and looked for TJ. Turned out that a red GUARD T-shirt was in front of me in line.

  I cleared my throat, and TJ turned around and said, “Hey. You’re late.”

  “We didn’t say a time, and I had this tournament thing—”

  “Tennis tournament?”

  “No. Never mind,” I said.

  It was his turn to order. He said, “I’ll have a Coke and”—he turned to me—“what do you want?”

  “Popcorn,” I said.

  He bought it and gave it to me. Maybe in an effort to be cute, he bent his head over the bag and took a popped corn into his mouth. “Buttery and salty,” he said. He’d succeeded, because it was cute.

  “Popcorn usually is,” I said. “Thanks for this.” Then I asked, “You gonna play a few rounds with us?”

  He looked at his watch. “Man, I’d love to, but I gotta go and take care of something. How long will you be here? I could come back.”

  I resisted the urge to ask him about where he was going tonight. Is it the same as last night? And why doesn’t he tell me what he’s doing? “We have to be home at ten forty-five.”

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

  “I don’t know. It sounds like your social schedule is pretty full this summer,” I said playfully.

  “Are you mad? Is Stella Higley a little upset that I have other plans without her?” he teased back. “Are you starting to like me?”

  “What? No. Don’t go getting a big head. It’s nothing like that.”

  “Oh, right,” he said, but I don’t know that he believed me. “Look, this thing I have to do… it’s only for this week. It’s a little side job that’s important. It’ll be over soon, and then… maybe we can hang out more?”

  Then he leaned his head into the popcorn bag again, even though he had a free hand, and bit another corn. “Yum.” He lifted his brows up and down. “Have fun, and if I don’t see you tonight, come by the shack tomorrow.”

  I watched him leave the arcade. Before he was out of sight, he turned and mouthed to me, I like you, too.

  I couldn’t hold back a big smile.

  It was so nice to know what he felt about me. I still kind of wished Pete had been like that. I was so mad at him, because it’d felt like he’d been lying to me, but he really never had, I guess.

  I liked the idea of TJ hanging out with me for the rest of the summer. But what’s with this secret weeklong job?

  I rejoined Josie and Dario at the Skee-Ball machines. Dario had already wrapped himself in tickets like a mummy, and Josie had her hand in front of his nose.

  “Looks like I missed all the fun.” I held the popcorn out for them.

  Josie said, “He was right about the soap.”

  I smelled her hand.

  Dario said, “And I think something’s wrong with this machine, because it’s spitting out tickets like crazy. If I keep this up, I’ll have enough for a Tootsie Roll and a piece of gum.”

  “Big score,” I said. We had all agreed that playing Skee-Ball was more fun than the prizes. We’d grown out of prizes a long time ago.

  I said to Josie, “We need to go back under the boardwalk.”

  She began to ask, “Wh—”

  She stopped talking when she saw what Rodney was doing.

  Twenty-Three Stella

  Police Station

  June 25 (Continued)

  Santoro stands up and walks around the table. He stretches one arm across his chest and pulls it with the other, then does the same with the other side. “What was Rodney up to?”

  “It seemed crazy at the time,” I say. “He was bent over studying the baseboards inside the arcade. He would crawl a little too. He said, ‘It’s coming from somewhere’ and ‘Where’s it coming from?’ ”

  “Did you ask about it?”

  “I did. He said, ‘The toxin.’ He was looking for a toxin.”

  Twenty-Four Stella

  Boardwalk

  June 22

  “Murielle duPluie from WLEO here with the Whalehead news from the Jersey Shore. The countdown has begun, thanks to Meredith Maxwell’s number one fan, Cassandra Winterhalter. Stroll past the welcome sign in front of the Smoothie Factory to get a glimpse of the countdown to the Flying Fish concert, just five days away.”

  It looked like the kind of beach day you dreamed about: bright blue sky with only a slight puff of white clouds here and there. White sand sprinkled with people, beach umbrellas, and volleyball players. Unfortunately, it felt like the kind of beach day you dread—ninety-five degrees at nine in the morning and high humidity. I was sweating through my shirt before we started working out, and I think I felt the tops of my feet getting sunburned right through my shoes and socks. It was totally possible that my sneakers might melt right on the boardwalk. And there was no breeze at all. Fish were rotting somewhere, that was for sure; I could smell the funk.

  I decided that when we went to the beach later, I would put my chair in the water and not move it all day.

  But Josie had other ideas. She actually wanted to run in this weather.

  I agreed to jog with Josie like we’d done lots of times before. The difference is that those other times I’d been part of the track team, and I’d wanted to be good at running. I wasn’t on that team anymore, and, well, I was out of shape. I told her I’d go if she agreed we could go to the guard shack so that I could see TJ. “Timmy will probably be there,” I said to Josie.

  “Probably,” she said, but no hint of noticing that he was a cute boy who’d been noticing her.

  “So, I think he likes you,” I said.

  When she didn’t answer, I added, “Do you like him?”

  Still no answer.

  “Josie?”

  When she didn’t answer the third time, I realized that she was wearing earbuds and couldn’t hear me. I gave up and stuck mine in too.

  We ran past the old man feeding the seagulls again, and I got a splat of bird poop on my shoe. Gross.

  We exchanged waves with Rodney, Kevin (the owner of Kevin’s Fun House), Dario’s mother, and other locals trying to enjoy what would be the coolest part of the day. That’s what things are like at the shore—everyone is happy and friendly. It’s the opposite of home, but I still love New York.

  I saw Mayor Lopez talking to a woman I didn’t know. I took out an earbud when I said hi.

  He replied, “Hello, girls.”

  Before we got more than a few feet away, I leaned down to tie my shoe, which hadn’t melted. With the earbud still out, I heard the woman say, “He’s in the way.”

  Mayor Lopez said, “I can’t just have him locked up for no reason.”

  “Then think of one,” she growled, and marched with purpose toward the Smoothie Factory.

  Twenty-Five Stella

  Police Station

  June 25 (Continued)

  “What was that all about?” Santoro asks.

  “I wouldn’t figure that out until later. At this point I didn’t even know who this woman was, but she had great taste in shoes—spiky Jimmy Choos that looked glam with soft blue shorts and a flowy peasant top.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you want me to tell you more about the mayor and the lady now?”

  “No. Let’s stick to the timeline and just let me know what happened next.”

  Twenty-Six St
ella

  Beach

  June 22 (Continued)

  I put the earbud back in, then caught up to Josie, who was already at the top of the ramp that led to the sand. We ran down the beach to the guard shack. Immediately I regretted suggesting the shack, because running on the sand was so much harder than the boards.

  We found Timmy’s legs dangling off the side of the raised hut. “If you’re not careful, someone will recruit you for our training program,” he said, more to Josie, who was ahead of me and was barely out of breath.

  “Water?” I managed to choke out.

  He handed me his bottle, and I gulped the water down. Then I looked at Josie’s outstretched hand. “Oops,” I said, because I’d drunk it all.

  Josie let out a huff. “Oh come on, Stell.”

  I said, “Sorry.”

  Timmy held out another drink for her, one in a lime-green cup.

  She looked at it and shook her head. “You know I’m boycotting them.”

  “Okay.” He sipped from the cup and smacked his lips. “Ahhh!”

  She grabbed it. “Fine. This is only because I could die of dehydration and rot right here in the sand if I don’t drink this. For the record, I want everyone here to know that I’m not ending my boycott. This is a life-or-death situation.”

  “Noted,” Timmy said.

  She wrinkled her forehead as she drank.

  “What’s wrong? Do you actually like it?” Timmy asked her.

  “What type of smoothie is this?” she asked.

  “Honeydew and mango. Why?”

  She said, “There’s something else in it. Something that I know, but I don’t know, you know?”

  “No,” Timmy said, and he snatched the cup back.

  I pointed to Tucker. “What’s he doing?”

  Tucker was on a stool with binoculars glued to his face, staring out at the ocean.

  “He’s spying.”

  “On what?” I asked.

  “I’m not supposed to say,” Timmy said. “It’s a secret.”

  “Remind me never to tell you something secret,” Josie said. “Because telling everyone you have a secret doesn’t keep the secret. It makes people want to know more about the secret. See how that works?”

  “Ah, right.” Timmy pointed to her head. “You’re smart.”

  I said, “But since you’ve slipped up this much, now you have to tell us. Spill it.”

  “No can do,” he said. “I’ll just say it’s called the Koala, and that’s it. Nothing else.”

  Josie pointed to herself. “I know koalas. They’re Australian, you know.”

  “I do now,” Timmy said.

  I knew a Koala too. I asked, “What’s so special about it that he’s spying on it?”

  “I’ll just say that they’re doing something, and that’s it. Nothing else.”

  “What are they doing?” Josie asked.

  “Dunno. That’s why Tuck’s spying. And it’s a good thing I don’t know, or I might accidentally tell you what I know. You know?”

  “I know,” Josie said. “It’s not your fault. Secrets are hard for some people to keep.”

  Timmy smiled. “Thanks for not pressuring me, or I might’ve given something away.”

  “No problem,” I said. “We’re considerate like that.” Then I called to Tucker. “Hey, can I look?”

  He handed me the binoculars. “Just bird-watching,” he said.

  “Sure,” I agreed, and focused the binoculars out to sea.

  “Yup,” I said. “I know that boat.”

  “How?” Josie asked.

  “It’s the one Laney had on her phone.”

  “Who’s Laney?” Timmy asked.

  “Dad’s blind date from the other night,” I said.

  “That’s so awkward,” Timmy said. “Why don’t they meet online like everyone else?”

  “That would make more sense,” I said.

  “Hold up,” Josie said. “You went into her pictures? I thought you were just checking if it was broken. That’s such a violation of her privacy.”

  “Well, I did it, and I also found this.” I showed them my photo of the man. “She had a lot of pictures of this guy. Like she’s obsessed with him.”

  “How do you have that?” Josie asked.

  “I took a picture of the picture on her phone with my phone.”

  “Not cool, Stell,” Josie scolded. “It’s probably like her brother, or uncle, or something.”

  Timmy joined in. “Or an old friend who died and she wants to remember him.” He reached into a cooler and gave us each a cold bottle of water. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride back up to the boards.”

  Timmy fired up the four-wheeler, and we got on behind him. Josie, then me.

  “You can hold on,” he said to Josie.

  Sand flew up behind the back wheels as he drove us to the boardwalk. Little kids stopped their castle building to look at us. I imagined they were thinking we were the cool older girls getting a four-wheeler ride from a lifeguard (in training).

  Before Timmy pulled away from the edge of the boardwalk, he reached down, picked a small shell out of the sand, and gave it to Josie. “Here,” he said. “This is very special to me. Watch it until I get off work, will you?” He sped away before Josie could object.

  Twenty-Seven Stella

  Police Station

  June 25 (Continued)

  “What was so important about that shell?” Santoro asks.

  He doesn’t get it.

  “Nothing. Timmy was just being flirty.”

  “Giving Josie a plain old shell was flirting?”

  “Yeah. It was cute.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “If you say so.”

  I ask him, “Do you have a wife or girlfriend?”

  He pulls an elbow behind his head to stretch his arms instead of answering me.

  “You’re not gonna tell me? I’m telling you so much stuff.”

  “None of this is about me.” His refusal to answer me gives me my answer—no wife, no girlfriend.

  “Guess what she wanted to do with that shell.”

  Twenty-Eight Stella

  Boardwalk

  June 22 (Continued)

  I started toward home, dying for a shower, but Josie dawdled near Kevin’s Fun House.

  “Whatcha doing?” I asked.

  “I want to put this in the box.” She held up the shell.

  “Now?”

  She nodded.

  On our way I asked her, “Do you like him?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I never liked a guy before.”

  “Well, if it helps, the fact that you want to save that shell in the box tells me you like him, too. At least a little.”

  “You know so much about this stuff. I mean, you had Peter, and I feel like I’m behind schedule or something. It’s embarrassing.”

  So I may have led Josie to believe that Pete and I were more than just friends. It didn’t feel like a lie, because I’d believed it myself. The problem, as I learned the hard way, was that he never thought that.

  Josie added, “At home you have boyfriends, and, just like that, TJ likes you now. It’s like I can never catch up to you. And I don’t like it.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I’m sorry, Josie. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. And, for the record, I don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Date and have boyfriends.”

  “You don’t? But Pete— And I mean, look at you, acting all high school already.”

  I knew she didn’t mean it as a compliment, but I liked that I acted high school. That was what I was going for. “Josie, don’t laugh—”

  “About what?”

  I stopped walking and went over to the boardwalk’s wooden railing. “When I tell you that I’ve never kissed a boy.”

  “But I thought—Peter?”

  “We were really good friends, maybe even best friends, for a long time, like years, hung out all the time and stud
ied together. We had a streak over six hundred days.”

  “That all sounds good,” Josie said. “Perfect boyfriend.”

  “Correction: a boy who was my friend. Not boyfriend. I thought it was more than it was. It’s embarrassing.” I used my dirty shirt to wipe sweat off my top lip, then cracked open the bottle Timmy had given me, drank a big gulp, and rolled it on my forehead. “So don’t be hard on yourself.”

  “What happened with Peter?”

  “He told me he liked Kelsey Gelfman, the popular girl in school. To make it worse, he told me he’d liked her forever. And I’d thought we shared everything. He had this whole crush going on, and he’d never told me about it.”

  “Did you ever tell him about your crush?” Josie asked. “On him.”

  “I didn’t think I had to. I thought… he liked me back.” I paused for a beat before adding, “And the timing of all this was so bad, because it was right when Mom and Gregory told me they were getting married, and I assumed Pete was going to be my date for the wedding, but I went alone. And I had to deal with all this mushy love right in my face.”

  “I’m sorry, Stella. What did you do?”

  “For starters, I stopped talking to him!” I added, “And I cried a lot. I realized that he was pretty much my only friend. So I had to find friends.”

  Josie made some comforting noises. “The girls you went shopping with when you cut track?”

  I asked, “You know about that?”

  “Strike one? Yeah. But I don’t know about strike two.”

  “It was dumb. So dumb.” I sighed. I couldn’t believe I was about to say all this out loud for the first time. “Those new friends? I told them about Pete and Kelsey.…”

  “What did they do?”

  “They took pictures of them and then altered them with a photo program and made the pictures… well, made them really terrible, and then they posted them online. Everyone saw. Pete and Kelsey were totally humiliated. And, of course, they thought I was behind it.”

  “But you weren’t?”

  “No.” Then I added, “I was mad at Pete, totally mad. Kelsey, too, and she didn’t even have anything to do with it. But who does that? That’s just so mean.”