The Deepest Blue Read online

  “You know, if you’d get me my own phone, we wouldn’t have to swap this one around so much.”

  “You know,” Dad replies, though I know what’s coming next, “when you’re old enough to have your name on the bill, I’ll consider it.”

  “You know,” I say, still pushing the issue, but Dad interrupts.

  “You know—”

  Maggie claps a hand over his mouth. “Boys, that’s enough. We’ll resolve this issue later. Right now, Michael has a date, and I don’t want her angry at him because you two were bickering over a cell phone.”

  “Is Mandy’s dad dropping me off here, or should I have him take me home?” I ask.

  Dad removes Maggie’s hand from his mouth. “Just head for home, and I’ll be there after I spend some quality time with Rocket.”

  On hearing his name, Rocket lifts his head for a moment and then lays it back on the sofa cushion when he realizes no one is offering him food.

  We climb into Maggie’s green Subaru. Her hair is extra curly. I figure it’s because of the humidity. It hangs in little twists around her face. “Let me pull back this mop,” she says all the time. But it doesn’t really look like a mop. The guy at the health food store in Jacksonville who has dreadlocks, he’s got a mop.

  “So what’s Rich headed to Raleigh for?” Maggie asks.

  My stomach tightens, and I try to keep my voice steady as I answer. “Uh, some part for the boat. Maybe for the fish finder. I don’t remember.”

  “Got other things on your mind,” Maggie says.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Listen,” she says, “I’m sure Rachel is a nice girl and all, even though I’ve spent maybe twenty minutes around her. But a girl who won’t treat you with respect is a girl who doesn’t deserve your time and energy. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  I’m glad Maggie thinks I’m worried about something other than Dad buying her a ring. “Yeah, but it’s not like this is a big place with a lot of girls to choose from. And it’s not like a lot of girls are gonna be interested in me.” Maggie is a little unclear on the realities of living in a small beach town.

  “Why not? You’re handsome, you’re intelligent, you’re gainfully employed.” She chuckles. “Those are all the things I love about your dad. Well, the employed thing is just a bonus.”

  “But you didn’t grow up here.”

  “So?”

  “I mean, I guess girls around here are looking for something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, that’s the problem. If I did, maybe I’d have an answer. But that still wouldn’t solve the problem that this is a small town. When the tourists all go home, my choice in women gets dramatically smaller.”

  I watch the trees go past the window, occasionally backlit by the flashes of lightning from the approaching storm. The rain has started falling with authority now.

  Maggie pulls up to the arcade. “The thing is,” she says as I reach for the door handle, “fifteen-year-old girls don’t know what they want. They’re checking things out just like you are. They’re confused, they’re self-conscious, and they just want a guy who makes them feel comfortable.” She brushes her hair from her eyes.

  “I don’t think that’s Rachel’s problem.” I know it’s not. I have an idea what some of it is, but I’m not completely sure.

  “Then maybe you need a girl with fewer problems.” Maggie beams another smile at me. Her smile is beautiful, and I smile without thinking about it. I totally love Maggie. She’s like my mom. Not like my real mom, but like what a mom is supposed to be. Like what you’d design a mom to be if you could pick all the things you wanted.

  “Maybe so,” I say as I climb out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.” I shut the door and dash through the rain to the arcade. As I reach the entrance, my stomach knots, and I wonder what kind of mood Rachel will be in. I take a deep breath as I open the door.

  chapter 3

  I shake my head like a wet dog, flipping rainwater everywhere. The Jungleland Arcade is crowded with little kids, mostly tourists, probably trying to find a way to kill some time and wait out the storm. Bright, colorful lights flash, and the machines make electronic noises and music that compete with each other for the tourists’ attention. A little girl, maybe two years old, wanders around with a ball from the Skee-Ball machine, threatening to throw the heavy, wooden sphere at anyone who tries to take it away from her.

  I scan the crowd, looking for people I recognize. Over by the REDEMPTION CENTER sign, I can see Caitlyn Parker leaning on the glass case filled with plastic toys and cheap junk. Trevor Boone has his hand stuffed in the back pocket of her shorts, trying to grope her butt. She doesn’t seem to mind. She is clutching a mess of red tickets spit out by the different machines, and I wonder how much that’s cost Trevor already.

  Trevor’s dad runs one of the restaurants down in Indian Beach on the south end of the island. It’s one of the oldest businesses, and it has a huge gift shop. Trevor busses tables or cashiers in the gift shop, and his dad overpays him. Trevor and I were best friends until eighth grade. I don’t know what happened, but two years later, we’re just acquaintances. My best friend is Jayden Stokes, only he’s in Asheville enjoying the North Carolina mountains for the summer with his grandparents.

  I head toward Trevor and Caitlyn. She and Rachel are best friends, which should mean Rachel would be close by. “Hey,” I say. Trevor and Caitlyn turn at the same time.

  “S’up,” Trevor says.

  “Seen Rachel?” I ask. I turn and lean against the glass case.

  “She was outside on the bumper boats a few minutes ago,” Caitlyn says. “She said she didn’t think you’d make it until later.”

  I check the time on Dad’s cell phone: 6:06 P.M. “Whatever” is all I manage.

  Jungleland is more like a small amusement park with some weird tropical theme. There are bumper boats, miniature golf, and when the weather is nice, a go-cart track. Inside the arcade are all kinds of games, from classics like Skee-Ball and Pac Man to basketball and a zombie shooting game. The employees all dress in khaki shirts and shorts and wear pith helmets that I imagine would get really old after a while.

  Mandy Wilcox stumbles in from the bumper boats, dripping wet and laughing. Behind her, Rachel is wringing water from her blonde hair, her green eyes reflecting the flashing lights inside. Her pink t-shirt is stretched below her hips from the weight of all the water, and it clings to her body.

  “When did they put in a swimming pool?” I ask as I move toward the door where they stand dripping puddles onto the cement floor.

  “Maybe you didn’t notice it is raining out there?” Mandy says. Her tone isn’t nasty. I think she just thinks she’s funny.

  “I thought maybe you didn’t notice,” I say.

  “I think they have the air conditioner set to North Pole,” Rachel says. I notice the goose flesh running up and down her arms and legs.

  “Come here.” I hold out my arms to her. She lays her head on my shoulder, and I pull her close. Shivers quake through her body as she tries to get warm. I rub my hands up and down her arms.

  “Not so smart,” she says, teeth chattering.

  “Maybe not,” I say. Her hair smells like chlorine. I pull her closer. The dampness of her clothes soaks through to my skin, but I don’t mind. The arcade doesn’t seem as noisy as before. I close my eyes and hold Rachel.

  We hang out in the arcade for a while, playing games and exchanging our tickets for candy and temporary tattoos. When our arms are completely covered in bright-colored skulls and butterflies, we look at each other with blank expressions.

  “Now what?” Trevor asks.

  “I’m hungry.” Mandy is always hungry.

  Rachel looks at me. “You want to get something to eat?”

  I don’t want to say no, because things are going so well. Saying no would mean breaking the flow of the evening. “Yeah, sure,” I say. There is a little snack shack outside that serves the typi
cal, amusement park hot dogs and hamburgers. The tables are covered by huge yellow-and-orange umbrellas. The rain has eased off, and only light sprinkles still fall.

  Everyone orders, and then we take our drinks to the tables. I brush the puddles from the plastic bench and tabletop with a handful of paper napkins. Mandy sits with Caitlyn, Trevor, and a boy named Bryce who just moved here from Charlotte. Rachel and I sit by ourselves.

  “You have to work all week?” Rachel asks. She is playing with her straw, trying to sink the ice cubes in her soda.

  “I have Tuesday and Wednesday off. Dad has to go to Raleigh and I’m staying here.”

  “So . . .” she says, dragging out the word, “will you be home alone?” The pitch in her voice stays level, but I can see the smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  My insides try to rearrange themselves. “I don’t know,” I lie. “I’ll be home alone a lot of the time, anyway.”

  “So . . .” she says, again stretching the one syllable forever, “maybe I could come over to see you?”

  “Um, yeah, I guess so. I don’t know when, or whatever, but yeah, we could work out something. At least I think so.” I can hear myself talking, but it doesn’t seem like it’s me. Rachel leans over and shuts me up by placing her lips on mine. Her breath is sweet, her lips warm and soft. My eyes roll back and the lids slam shut. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer as blood rushes through my body and my skin prickles with heat. I open my eyes to watch her.

  Her eyes open slowly and then grow wider. She smiles and whispers to me, “I love the way you kiss.”

  The kid in the snack shack calls our number, and I practically trip over the bench trying to stand up. My knees feel a little like rubber as I pick up the hot dogs and fries and bring them to the table.

  Rachel squirts ketchup and mustard in swirls and loops across the top of the dog and then squirts a big pool of ketchup for her fries. She picks up a long fry, draws hearts with it in the ketchup, and points it out to me, grinning and giggling. On the one hand, I think it’s kind of cute, sort of a sweet gesture. On the other hand, why do girls do such stupid stuff? Worse yet, why do they think it would mean anything to a guy? It’s ketchup. Duh. I smile at her anyway, because the last thing I want is to have her disappointed that I didn’t like her ketchup.

  We finish eating, and an announcement comes over the loudspeakers. “Jungleland patrons, the park will be closing in ten minutes.”

  “Mandy, what time is your dad coming?” I ask. I’m eager to get home, not because I don’t want to be with Rachel, but I’ve got an early morning, and lack of sleep makes the job twice as hard.

  “Any minute. He said he’d be here no later than nine o’clock.”

  “Gawd, I’ll be so glad to get a driver’s license,” Rachel says.

  “And a car to go with it,” I say.

  “I can’t believe I have to wait almost a whole year,” she says with a slight whine.

  “Only three more months for me,” I say. “At least for the license part. I don’t know what I’ll do about the car thing.”

  “What do you do with all that money you make working on the boat?”

  “Spend it on you,” I say. I kiss her nose, and she pouts even though she knows I’m teasing. “Actually, I’m banking most of it for college. I’ve got a savings account in Moorehead. I check it online every once in a while.”

  “How much is in there?” she asks, dragging another fry through the ketchup puddle.

  “There’s more than eight thousand dollars in it, I think.” There’s a lot more than that in there for certain, but I keep that to myself. I already don’t like the direction this conversation is heading, and I know how Rachel thinks.

  “Eight grand would buy a great used car,” Rachel says.

  It would buy a lot of education, too, I hear Dad’s voice in my head, but I ignore it.

  “Why even go to college? You already have a built-in job with a future. You can take over your dad’s boat when he retires and just work for him until then.” Rachel swings her leg under the bench and kicks at the water by her feet.

  “I don’t know,” I say. And I don’t. I mean, I like working the boat and all, but it is hard work, and some years we don’t get as much business as we need. “Dad’s good with his hands. He can fix things, build things. I’m not that good. If he didn’t know how to fix stuff, some years we would have had to move or go on welfare.”

  “Well, he must be doing okay now if you’ve got eight grand in the bank.”

  “He’s been putting that away for me since I started being first mate. It took almost five years to get that much.” I don’t tell her where a lot of it came from, because I absolutely do not want to get into a discussion about my biological mom in Seattle.

  “Seems to me it’s your money. You can do what you want.” Rachel has a kind of defiant look, like somebody called her a liar or something.

  “It is mine, it’s just, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with it yet. I haven’t made a decision, so it’s not important.” Then the light bulb switches on, and I know precisely what she’s thinking. She wants me to use the money to buy a car so that I can drive her and Mandy around. Trevor’s dad will buy him a car, and Caitlyn will drive up and down the island with him. Rachel wants the same thing. She doesn’t want to look like she’s less important than Caitlyn.

  Rachel looks up at me, blinking her eyes slowly. Now she really has a pouty look, and it reminds me of the baby with the Skee-Ball.

  I close my eyes and let out a long breath. “I got three months to think about it,” I say. “I’m not making any decision about it tonight, so let it rest.”

  “Whatever.” She spins sideways on the bench and crosses her arms. Her voice has that “you’re an idiot” tone that makes me insane.

  “You want a fancy car to ride around in, then get a job and save your own damn money. Don’t be thinking of ways to spend mine.” I keep my voice low so Mandy and Caitlyn don’t look over.

  “Who said I was trying to spend your money?” She sits up straight, arms still crossed, and looks me in the eye, challenging me.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to bust into my college savings and buy a car so you’ll have someone to drive you and Mandy around. Someone other than her dad, I mean.”

  “I did not. If you just want to pick a fight with me, then why are we even here?” Her voice is a high-pitched whisper, but I can see Mandy turning to see what’s going on.

  “I’m not trying to pick a fight, I’m just saying that the money I’ve got saved is not for you to tell me how to spend.”

  “I guess somebody has to tell you how to do things, ’cause you’re obviously too slow to figure them out for yourself. If I hadn’t kissed you first, you never would have had the balls to kiss me.”

  My temper flares, but I don’t want to start yelling. I take a few deep breaths before I answer. “Maybe I’m just not in such a hurry. Maybe I don’t see a good reason to move faster than I have to.”

  “That’s why you’ll be stuck in the same rut your dad is. You’ll be running his boat, cutting bait until you fall over dead in the water.”

  Her words sting. My brain stutters as it tries to come up with something in reply. “Yeah, and ten seconds ago you thought having me run my dad’s boat was the greatest idea ever.” I’m confused—ticked off at her attitude.

  “You’re the one who wants to go to college because you don’t think running the boat is good enough for you.”

  My head spins and my stomach tightens.

  “By the time you make up your mind about things, you won’t have any choices left.” Her voice is almost a hiss.

  I’m out of energy for this argument. I look at her, my eyebrows pushing together so hard I have to rub my finger between my eyes to focus. “What are you even talking about?”

  “You think Maggie is gonna wait forever for your dad to make up his mind?” Rachel isn’t even trying to disguise her anger now. She
practically yells at me, even though I’m sitting right next to her. “She could have any man she wanted any time she wanted. And so could I. You and your dad will just sit and wait until there is nothing left to wait for. We will have moved on to something better.”

  “You don’t know shit,” I say. “My dad and Maggie are getting married.” I’m immediately sorry I let this slip. “And you know what else? Being patient and waiting weeds out all the crap, so that all the valuable stuff is left for those who have a little patience.”

  “I’m crap, is that it?” Rachel looks really hurt.

  A twinge of guilt pokes at my chest. “I didn’t say that.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away.

  “Because I want to enjoy life now, because I want to live now and not ten years from now?” There are tears in her eyes, and I feel like an ass for making her this upset.

  This much of what she says makes sense. I lower my voice a little. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “But you said . . .” she lowers her head but doesn’t finish the thought.

  “Look, Rachel, you pissed me off, and my mouth went running on its own.” I take a deep breath and try to calm down a little more. “I’m sorry. I just meant that taking things slower means you’re sure you get what you want.” I put a hand on her leg.

  She backs up a little, but she doesn’t really move. She tips her head and looks at me sideways. “All I want is you. You’re the best thing in my life, and I don’t want you to leave me to go to college, or to move away, or whatever.”

  “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, except out on the boat to work and maybe into Jacksonville next week for supplies.”

  Rachel sniffs, and I move closer to her. She doesn’t pull away. She lets me wrap an arm around her, and she lays her head on my shoulder.

  “Besides,” I add, “you’ll get sick of me long before I’m ready to move on.”

  “Won’t happen,” she says. She almost sounds convincing.

  “Time to go.” Mandy pops up from behind us, pointing toward the exit where her dad’s van is idling. The clouds have begun to break apart and scatter, and the sky is streaked orange and pink behind the blue-black clouds. I can smell the salt water from the ocean just a few blocks away mixed with the scent of pine kicked up by the storm. The air buzzes with the electric sound of cicadas.