A Lie for a Lie Read online

  I sighed loudly as we pulled away from the house.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “I chickened out. It was too awkward.”

  “Good. It’s really their thing.” She roughly shifted gears, and I grabbed the dashboard.

  “Dad’s getting me a car,” I said.

  “What?”

  “And Mom’s good with it.”

  “See, they want you to have a Breakout Summer, too.” She slowed down and looked at me. “Or shit, Kendra, maybe he did see us.”

  Maybe, I thought. Maybe.

  CHAPTER 3

  The idea of a Breakout Summer was a plan Jenn and I had thought up to move us beyond our comfort zones. For Jenn, it was going after a guy she was into, and for me it was stepping out of my routine of anxiety whenever I was the least bit afraid. It had recently been triggered by the car incident, and I wanted to get over it. For good.

  We were taking action on this plan by heading out to a party on Beach Rose Island, which was at the head of Kings-port Cove. It wasn’t actually an island, but it had been called Beach Rose Island for as long as I could remember. It was really a one-acre elbow that jutted into the cove and protected the shore from the ocean waves, but when the tide came in, it was completely surrounded by water on all sides.

  Wild beach peas and prickly-stemmed roses clung to the sand and rocks and held the land together and kept Beach Rose Island from washing away. It had long been the local hangout for kids, and it was finally our time to claim it. I’d been waiting for this summer since I’d heard about the parties from Bo and Jenn’s sister, Glory.

  It was dead low tide when we pulled in next to Will’s car in the parking lot. My stomach fluttered as I looked inside and noticed Nicole’s jacket on the front seat. I had it bad for him, and he was going out with Nicole, my least favorite person.

  “Why does he like her?” I asked, getting out of the car.

  “Because you turned him down when he asked you out.”

  “I should’ve said yes, but—”

  “You did what you always do. You wait until it’s too late.”

  “Ouch,” I said, trying to sound hurt. But she was right. I had to admit I did that with just about everything. I could change, though. It wasn’t written in stone that I had to weigh all sides and evaluate every possible scenario to make a decision. My teachers called me methodical, my parents called me annoyingly indecisive, and I knew Jenn thought I should stop taking everything so seriously.

  So this is the plan. Nothing is going to ruin it, not even Dad’s affair.

  Jenn scrambled down the path to the causeway. I stayed a few feet behind her, slowing when I smelled the damp seaweed. I loved the beach, the ocean, and all that went with it, but I loved it cautiously. The anxiety I had dealt with since the accident could be activated anytime I was stressed, so I used my usual self-talk technique when I felt it coming on. Dad and I used to make up little rhymes and games to get me to do things when I was anxious, but thinking about him made it worse.

  Instead, I kept my focus on Will and the number of times he’d smiled at me, stopped his car to talk to me, and how I was going to let him know I liked him tonight. Will and Kendra Will and Kendra Will and Kendra, I said quietly with each step. Before I knew it, I was close enough to see him standing in the crowd on the island, the late-afternoon sun turning his skin a warm golden brown.

  When we reached the island, everyone was sitting around an unlit campfire. Jenn and I fought over the only driftwood seat left, but I hip checked her away so that I was sitting, happily, opposite Will. Who was sitting next to Nicole. She rested her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm. I tucked my hands between my knees and looked at the sun melting into the horizon.

  “Wow, what a sunset,” I said, reaching in my bag for my camera. I held it up to my eye and focused on the deep orange sun above the two faces in front of me. Nicole leaned in closer to Will. “Nice,” I said.

  Hate’s a strong word, but I felt a dark rage when I remembered all the ways she had tortured me in elementary school. She’d excluded me from the playground games when I was too slow, or too shy, or overwhelmed by fear. Her questions about the boat accident and my anxiety weren’t asked to be helpful; they were asked to embarrass me in front of others. Like “You probably don’t want to be in the band because the loud noise will freak you out, right?” No, I’d told her, I thought band was boring, which was a lie. Once, at fifth-grade snack time, she asked, “Did you see a light when you almost died?” The room went silent, and everyone turned to me. And last year she asked, “Are you finally over the drowning thing?”

  Recently, though, Nicole’s exclusions had seemed more subtle: a look, a whisper, an eye roll, a dismissive laugh. But they were just as powerful.

  I’d thought a lot about why guys like her. She’s not really beautiful—she’s average at best—but she has confidence. Or maybe it’s a power vibe, like electricity. And like electricity, it can zap you.

  My coping strategy with Nicole was never to make direct eye contact. My camera lens was my protection, and I turned away from Will and Nicole and focused it on Bo as he set up his grill, his dark curly head moving to the music. I felt better as soon as I looked at him. I stood up to say hi, when I felt a cold bottle against my thigh and jumped. It was Will.

  “Here you go.” He held it to my lips and I sipped. Beer. It was bitter and fizzy—two things I hate—but I took it from him for three reasons: He had a beautifully sculpted body, he was paying attention to me, and I knew I wouldn’t actually drink the beer.

  “Thanks,” I said, turning the color of the sunset.

  He nodded toward the bottle in my hand. “You gonna drink that or hold it?”

  “I haven’t decided.” I took another sip and made a face.

  “Hang on,” he said, and went over to the cooler and got me an iced tea. He held it out to me, and I studied his arms, all browned, golden hair glistening in the late-day light.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling big.

  “Sure.”

  “I like you.” I couldn’t believe the words popped out like that. I hadn’t planned on moving so fast.

  He laughed and peeled at his label and then took a gulp of beer. “I’m kind of going out with Nicole now,” he said. He knocked me gently on the head. “You should have said yes when I asked you out.”

  Now it was my turn to take a sip.

  “What changed?” he asked.

  I shrugged. He’d probably think I was a dork if I told him this was my Breakout Summer. “I don’t know. Things. I just know that this summer is going to be different.”

  He nodded like he understood, then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out for me, like in a movie scene. And like a movie star, I put it between my lips. I held it with shaky fingers while he leaned in close to light it.

  “Hey, Will, get your butt over here!” Nicole called.

  “In a minute,” he said. He leaned in even closer so we were almost nose to nose. “Are your eyes green or blue?”

  Everything stopped. I could smell his beer breath mixed with the cigarettes, and even though I didn’t like either, right then I wanted them both in the form of his lips. Preferably a kiss. I managed to say, “Um.”

  “Oh, they’re green.” And then he was off.

  I stubbed out the cigarette, tossed it, and then wished I’d saved it for a souvenir. Shit, Will Beckham made my heart pound, even though he got it wrong. My eyes are blue. Carribean blue.

  I walked in the opposite direction until I was at the end of the island, the place where people went to be alone. The sun had gone down, and everyone was back at the pit getting a fire going. I sat on a rock looking at the cottages across the cove, their lights just coming on. Through my zoom lens I could just make out who was having a cocktail party, and who was sitting on their porch steps, and who was having a cookout on their patio. A breeze shifted, and Mrs. Gooch’s laugh skipped across the water to Beach Rose Island. This wasn�
��t unusual. She had a big laugh, and the cove had a way of capturing sounds and carrying them out to the island. I followed it with my lens until I located the Kane cottage, and there Mom and Dad stood in a small group with the Gooches, the Kanes, and another couple.

  Everything was as it should be.

  But within minutes, the breeze that had carried cocktail party laughter now rumbled with an ominous storm. A snapshot flashed in my memory. Dad, hand on the mast, squinting in the driving rain, yelling for Hal. The present sky was not unlike that night ten years ago when we sailed off for the weekend cruise.

  Blurry fingers in front of my lens brought me back to the present. It was Bo. “I heard the thunder,” he said, settling himself beside me. “Don’t worry, it’s far off.”

  I held my camera tighter to my eye and squeezed a few shots off. The rapid-fire sound of the shutter was soothing to me, and I focused on that instead of the memory.

  “Are you okay?” Bo asked, moving closer.

  I gave a nod but didn’t look up.

  “Just showers,” he said.

  Thunder rumbled again, but farther away this time.

  “So, are you going to do Photo Club again in the fall?” Bo asked.

  Words stuck in my tight throat.

  He continued. “I’ll actually bring a camera this year if you promise to organize it with Mr. A.”

  Instead of responding, I turned the lens on him and clicked before he could raise his hands to his face. He hated having his picture taken, but this one was decent, I thought. I showed him the shot. He was half smiling, and his right eyebrow was raised up, the way it always was when he was surprised.

  “You haven’t answered me,” he said.

  “I’ll do it.” I got up and we headed back toward the fire.

  “If you hand over your camera, I’ll shoot you back,” he said, hands outstretched. I gave it to him but kept walking. He jumped in front of me and walked backward, snapping away like a fashion photographer.

  “Oooh, yeah, work it, baby,” he said in an over-the-top British accent. I tried to look annoyed but couldn’t and broke into a grin.

  “That’s it, hon. Let it out, be that girl,” he coaxed. I laughed when he stumbled and apologized to the rocks that were in his way.

  More people had shown up, and the fire circle was loud and crazy. Doug and Jenn were sitting with their arms around each other, and Will and Nicole were sharing a beer. Dory, from Quebec, was here for the summer. She had a much longer and more French name, but we’d come up with Dory as a nickname and it stuck. She was talking with Nicole’s best friend, Lindsay, who worked at Kingsport Café with Bo. Matt was there, but on the other side of the fire from Jenn and Doug.

  Looking past the crowd, I could see the moon reflecting on the rising tide, and I headed to the causeway.

  Bo followed me over. “You’re leaving? Where’s Jenn?”

  I glanced over to the fire circle. “She’s with Doug.”

  “Doug Jacoby? That can’t happen.”

  “Too late.”

  “Let me walk out with you.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  We slipped away from the crowd and onto the rocky causeway.

  He talked the whole way, giving a running commentary on that day’s events at the café, where he was a combination barista and chef.

  Then he asked me about Jenn and Doug.

  “You probably know him better than Jenn or me,” I said.

  “That’s the thing. He’s an ass, plus he’s twenty-three or something, and Jenn’s seventeen.” He picked up a shell and whipped it into the water.

  “It’s just a crush. It’ll be over pretty quickly,” I said.

  “Let’s hope. Have you ever seen him hang out with anybody? He’s always alone, and if you talk to him, he’s all about Doug and what Doug thinks and what Doug wants.”

  Bo was right, but Jen couldn’t see that; she only saw the dark eyes and the brooding artist she wanted to see.

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  We climbed the path to the parking lot.

  “Let me give you a ride,” he said.

  It was sprinkling now. “Sure, thanks.” I yanked on the door, but it didn’t open.

  Bo climbed in and braced himself against the driver’s door. “Stand back,” he yelled. With a kick, my door flew open.

  I hopped in and gave him a look of mock fear. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think it was scary that your passengers were now trapped in here with you.”

  “Just another thing I have to fix on her,” he said, giving the dashboard a pat.

  We pulled out of the parking lot and drove past the big cottages on Beach Rose Island Road before taking the beach loop back to Kingsport Village. Bo turned the radio on and cruised slowly down Beach Avenue. Too slowly.

  “Are we in danger of breaking down before I get home?” I asked.

  Suddenly, the truck lurched forward and I grabbed the seat to steady myself. When it jerked ahead again, I gasped.

  “I’d better pull over,” he said, and swung onto the soft shoulder. We bumped along until we came to a dirt drive and he turned, swerving around the potholes. “I might be out of gas,” he said, looking at the gauge. “Nope, it’s worse than that.”

  “Shit,” I said, grabbing the seat and looking at him for reassurance. “So why are you going down here if you’re breaking down?”

  He gripped the wheel and swerved around the bumps, while the truck bucked.

  “Bo, what’s going on?” I turned to him when he didn’t answer and saw he was pumping the gas pedal and grinning at me.

  “Damn you, Bo!” I yelled, and pounced on him, giving him a lame one-two punch. He managed to switch off the key and throw it on the dash. I got in one more jab before he grabbed my wrists and wrestled me back to the passenger side. This was a routine we’d had since we were kids and we knew it by heart, but now Bo was looking at me and he wasn’t smiling. He was strong, stronger than I remembered. And he was breathing hard. Somehow this was different.

  One of us was supposed to say uncle, the way we did when we were kids, but it didn’t seem right to speak at all. This wrestling had a sexual tension.

  He let me go and we sat back on our sides of the truck. Bo started the engine and backed down the dirt drive and onto Beach Avenue.

  Finally, he spoke. “I totally had you, didn’t I?” he said, and gave me a wink.

  “Did not,” I said, but I let my breath out in a loud gasp and we both cracked up. “Yeah, you did.”

  “Bo,” I said, not knowing where I was going with my words. “Was that weird?” Without waiting for him to answer I said, “Yeah, that was weird.”

  “Weird?” he said. “Not for me.”

  He shifted roughly.

  “Good,” I said, “’cause that would really mess things up.”

  He looked at me, and I pretended to adjust my seat belt. I felt his eyes linger on me a second too long. When he turned back to the road, the mood had changed.

  Was it possible that Bo, one of my best friends, could have feelings for me?

  I said it again, but silently. Weird.

  CHAPTER 4

  The next morning I snuggled deeper into my quilt while a light rain pattered my window. Would it storm today or hold off like last night? I played a game with myself. If it doesn’t thunder in the next minute and a half, I’ll get up and go to work. If it storms, I’ll call in sick, because I’m not moving from this house until it’s over.

  I hoped for an excuse to stay in so I wouldn’t have to go to Portland today.

  Mom went by my bedroom. “I see blue sky fighting with clouds, and the blue sky is winning!” From the bathroom she sang and ran the water. “It’s going to be a bright, bright, bright, sunshiny day.”

  I groaned and went down to the kitchen for coffee. Just as I touched the brew to my lips, I saw Dad standing by the door. He jiggled a set of keys, and behind him, out in the driveway, was a little white car with a red bow on top.

 
; “It’s yours, Kennie,” Dad said. He smiled in my favorite way: blue eyes crinkling at the corners, almost laughing. That was his true happy face, and I knew it like I knew anything that was real.

  “I love it!” I ran to him and gave him a quick hug, grabbed the keys, and went out the door. White, clean lines—new. Or newish.

  “It’s a barely used Prius. Excellent on gas.”

  I opened the driver’s door. “How did you get it so fast?”

  “It belonged to a client, and now it’s yours,” he said over the roof.

  Pausing, I remembered the last time I drove and how I went directly into panic mode when I got upset instead of doing any of the calming strategies I’d learned. Dad had dropped everything and come to the site of the fender bender. He took care of the details with minimal haggling, even chumming around with the cops and charming the other driver.

  “I love you, Dad,” I said, hopping in and putting my hands on the wheel. “Let’s go!”

  “I love you, too, but don’t you want to get out of your pajamas first? Maybe a raincoat?”

  “Nope. I just need my coffee,” I said, patting the passenger seat.

  While he was getting the coffee, I sat behind the wheel and ran my hands over the dashboard. It was mine. My own space. I flicked the power locks off and on, and in those seconds I let the image of Dad and his girlfriend in front of the brownstone creep into my mind, but it vanished as he pulled off the bow and threw it in the backseat. He hopped in with two travel mugs, and I backed my new car out of the driveway.

  “Listen to this,” he said, cranking up the radio. “It has a six-CD changer, GPS, air conditioning. The works.”

  I drove the beach loop and pulled up to the Seaside, where Jenn was a chambermaid, and called her cell. She came out the front door and ran down the stairs.

  “Way cute, Kendra!” she said, still talking on her phone. She came over and leaned in the driver’s window. “Will you get me one, too, Mr. Sullivan?” She pressed her hands together and batted her eyelashes.

  “Only if you’re a good girl,” he said. “And there’s no chance of that, right?”