The Summer of Moonlight Secrets (21 page)

54

Allie Jo

I can't believe Chase would make fun of someone just because they don't have money. And here's another thing—his mom's not around and that's why he doesn't understand about family, but I've got mine, and I know how important it is. That's why I'm going to see to it that Tara gets hers back.

All day long, he keeps trying to talk to me about it, and I keep shaking him off. But we're having fun too; even Tara's having fun. What with the fudge we got and the cotton candy and the magnets, spinners, and postcards, I think it's been a pretty good day.

The darkness changes everything. The sun is an orange orb melting into swirls of purple and blue. The tents glow, lit from the inside. Kids run around wearing glow-in-the-dark necklaces.

Chef's turned over for dinner, and we're now serving prime rib, small cups of Caesar salad, and Italian ice, lemon, cherry, and blueberry. I'm sampling the blueberry when I hear some girl shriek Chase's name.

A blond head bobs up and down and bursts out of the crowd. Oh, brother. It's Jennifer Jorgensen. And—oh my gosh—she's cut her hair short like Tara's. Oh. My. Gosh.

I slip the spoon out of my mouth and stare at her. She holds a big cone of cotton candy and waves it around like a scepter. The music and the sounds from the carnival games blast through the air, so I can't hear what she's saying to Chase, but from the way she keeps smiling and gesturing, I think it's safe to say she's spazzing out over him.

Tara nudges me. “Go talk to her.”

No way. “I don't want to talk to her.”

“Don't avoid what scares you,” she says, cutting me right through to the truth.

I turn to her and look up. “She always ignores me or acts like I'm stupid. I don't want to be friends with her.”

“You don't have to be friends with her,” Tara says. “Just don't be scared of her.” She glances their way. “I need to refill my platter,” she says, then looks at mine. “So do you.”

Just like that, she strides over and Jennifer and her friends make room for her. Jennifer says something, probably hello, and Tara returns the greeting. Tara comes back with a full platter and stares at me meaningfully.

“Okay, okay,” I say. I put my Italian ice on her platter, then walk the same path she did, but Jennifer doesn't move for me.

“Um, excuse me,” I mumble.

“Oh,” she says, casting her eyes on me the same way you'd look at your shoe if you stepped in dog poop.

That just makes me mad. I glance backward at Tara, who looks at me encouragingly.

Here goes nothing. “I see you got your hair cut,” I say.

She shakes her hair out. “Thank you,” she says, but I don't remember giving a compliment.

“I love Tara's hair, don't you?” I ask.

“Totally.” She leans out to smile at Tara.

“Thank you,” I say, watching as her face draws into confusion. “I cut it.”

Her lips part and her eyes widen.

Well! I've never seen her speechless. I wait for a second, then turn to Chase and say, “We better get back to work.”

And with that, I pass on through and ask Chef to load my platter.

I lean against the table as I wait on him. I cannot believe what I've just done. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder, I see Jennifer and them leave. Whew. Wait till Melanie hears about this! One small step for girl; one giant leap for girlkind.

“You need to refill your platter,” I say to Chase on my way back.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says, snapping his heels.

I take my position next to Tara.

“Good job,” she says. “Remember, you don't have to be friends, and you don't have to be enemies. Just don't be scared of her, that's the main thing.”

I smile at her, then feel my heart sink. I've never had a big sister to give me advice, and other girls know a lot more than moms do. Plus, she's not afraid of anyone or anything, and she's so exciting, like how she goes swimming at night and all her stories about Selkies.

I'm going to miss her, but people belong with their family. If I were lost, I'd want someone to return me. I peer more closely through the crowd. Maybe her uncle is here.

55

Chase

When Allie Jo trots off to use the bathroom, I sneak one of her pieces of fudge. I don't think she'll notice.

A couple stops by and takes samples off my platter. I think this is the third or fourth time they've been here, but I don't say anything. I've eaten so many samples, my gut's about to blow.

At night, the hill has a different look. Everything's in silhouette—black shapes against the darkening sky. Oak branches stretch over us like crooked fingers pointing across the crowd. I wonder if Dad's getting any good photos of this kind of stuff. I see a perfect spot looking up through the trees to the moon.

Tara walks over to me from her side and says, “Allie Jo's taking a long time.”

“There's probably a line.” Portable toilets in the dark. I look back at the trees; sometimes it pays to be a boy.

Mrs. Jackson left a while ago, offering to take us home as well. With two of the waitresses having just arrived, we weren't really needed anymore. But neither Allie Jo nor I wanted to leave.

I set my platter down and go through my bag of swag, as Mr. Jackson called it. The three of us had walked around earlier; pretty good take, I'd say. Bookmarks, taffy, pens with 3-D pictures on them, tokens for drinks at different restaurants—all free. I put a glowstick around my neck and crack it on.

I turn to Tara. “What are you going to do?” I ask.

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

I've spoken in midthought. “After tonight, what are you going to do? Are you sure you don't have someone in your family to go to, like an uncle or someone?”

She looks hurt. “My family is in the sea. Do you not believe me?”

I stare at her, then say, “I want to.” At that moment, a great yearning takes over my heart, and I realize more than anything I want to believe her. I want it to be true. I want to think that magical, fantastical things are possible in this world.

“Does Allie Jo believe me?”

I chuff and raise my eyebrows. “I don't know. We've been kind of arguing on and off all day.”

“About what?”

“I wish I could say.” I add a shrug to make it more real, but what's really going through my mind is,
She thinks you're crazy. She wants to find your uncle.

Oh, no. I suddenly realize where Allie Jo is.

56

Allie Jo

I've circled the tents almost three times now and tapped on the shoulders of two men who turned out not to be Tara's uncle. The crowd jostles me forward, and I stumble along. Just as I'm about to give up and head back, I spot a man near the beer tent. My heart starts up. He's got the same pear-shaped body and wiry hair.

Using my arm to split through people, I make my way over and step in front of him. It's beer he's drinking in a clear plastic cup, and by the looks of him, I doubt it's his first.

He casts a liquidy gaze on me.

“Hi,” I say. “I'm Allie Jo, remember? From The Meriwether?”

His jaw moves crookedly, but he doesn't say anything.

“You were asking about Tara”—I shake my head—“I mean, Pamela.”

His eyes sharpen, like shark eyes. He grabs my arm with such speed that his beer splashes on his shirt. “You know where she is, don't you?”

His sour breath splatters onto my face. Fear races up my arm and into my stomach.

“I … I … she's at our tent. You're her uncle, right?”

He laughs and pushes me away. Without waiting, he staggers through the crowd, through the big field of people, and makes a crooked path for The Meriwether tent—and Tara.

I dart through, dodging people and elbows. “Mr. Smith? Mr. Smith?” I shout. He doesn't look back. I catch up beside him. “You're her uncle, right? You're going to help her.”

Some teenage boys bluster by, bumping into me and knocking me backward. They don't even stop to see if I'm okay. I pick myself up and jump up and down to spot him.

I see the top of his head as he makes wobbly progress toward The Meriwether tent, and suddenly I realize what I've done. I charge through people, tripping over their feet, pushing some of them out of the way.

“Tara!” I start yelling. “Tara!”

57

Chase

Fireworks scream through the air, then
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Red, white, and blue stars explode in the sky.

“Whoo!” I shout along with the crowd. The stars whistle, leaving trails of color as they fall to the ground.

BOOMBOOM!
White flash pots blast so loudly, my heart feels them.

“Yeah!” I pump my fist and glance toward Tara.

She's crouched at the foot of the table, eyes skyward and full of fear. Her platter and samples lie scattered in the grass.

I shout in her direction. “It's just—” She can't hear me over the crowd and fireworks. I slide my platter on Chef's table, walk over, and crouch beside Tara.

“It's just fireworks!” Even this close, I yell to be heard.

She looks at me, but she doesn't seem to recognize my words. Her eyes are huge—coal black circles. Without saying anything, she grasps me by the cast.

Pop. KABOOM!
Golden sparkles sizzle in the sky.

Gesturing upward with my good arm, I lean toward her ear. “It's just for fun,” I shout. But in this closeness, in this dark nearness, I suddenly feel terror. Her hand slips into mine.

BANG! Whiz! BANG! BANG!
Purple, green, purple.

“Tara!”

I'm sure I heard someone call Tara's name. The crowd in the middle is still, but in front of the booths, people mix and mill about, merging like traffic. I pull Tara to her feet.

KAPOW!

“Tara!”

We both hear that. I scan the crowd and spot Allie Jo. I start to laugh when I see her bumping through the crowd, leaving a trail of annoyed people behind her.

But then I see her face.

Her features are strained, her voice ragged. “Run, Tara, run!” she yells.

Tara's uncle emerges from the mob. His beady eyes lock onto Tara and he moves like a steamroller, plowing people down as he makes his way toward us.

“Come on!” I yank Tara hard and start running.