A Million Miles From Boston (6 page)

“That’s enough,” Peter yelled. Ian let the swing slow down as the girls and I started putting the art supplies back in the box.

Bucky yelled, “Don’t do that!”

Holding the rope above Peter, Ian jumped onto the back of the saucer. The tree branch groaned as they sailed out into the yard. Then the rope snapped and they fell hard onto the ground. We ran to them.

Peter rolled onto his stomach, his face buried in his elbows. I leaned over him, my hand on his back. “Peter?”
Please
let him be okay, I thought.

He turned over and wiped his face on his shirt, leaving
streaks of dirt and tears. He rubbed his shoulder but seemed okay.

Whew! I sat back. The rope had snapped near the top and now only a small part hung from the branch. The rest sprawled across the grass. I glared at Ian.

“Sorry,” Ian said.

Peter smiled slightly. “It’s all right.”

“The rule is only one person on the swing at a time,” Becca said.

“Well, I didn’t know about any rule,” Ian said.

Learning to swing on the rope was a rite of passage, Dad said. I was four when Mom taught me. You placed hand over hand above you. And the secret to hanging on was crossing your legs over the rope and squeezing.

“Lucy, you can fix it, right?” Lauren’s lower lip trembled.

“Oh, my dad’ll fix it,” Ian said. “Or put up a new one. This one looks pretty old.”

“It was
fine.
” How could he act as if this were no big deal? I stomped up the stairs with the art supplies.

When I came back, Ian was gone. Peter and Becca ran to the tennis courts to meet their mom. Bucky and I walked the others home.

Along the way they fired questions at me. Why had he jumped on the swing? How would we fix the rope? Who would pay for it? Was Ian in big trouble?

I didn’t know how to answer. Was I responsible, since it happened during camp? I started walking faster, hands clenched.

After we dropped everyone off, Bucky and I walked back to the cottage.

“I don’t like Ian,” Bucky said as he opened our porch door.

“Me neither.”

Dad stood at the stove in his old flannel shirt, making grilled cheese sandwiches. “Hey, how’d it go?”

“Ian broke the rope swing!” Bucky said, then told him what had happened.

Dad peeled back the bread tops and scattered Goldfish crackers on the melting cheese, as Mom used to do. “I’m just glad Peter’s okay.”

“But, Dad, Ian
broke
it,” I said. “Won’t everyone be mad?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of us were talking about the swing at the barbecue. It was old, an accident waiting to happen. It’s time for a new one.”

Bucky and I exchanged frowns.

Dad put the sandwiches on plates and we headed to the dock. After I ate, I stretched out on my stomach, the warm wood heating me. Bucky crouched, looking through the slats. Superior sat at attention, staring at the water.

“Look, the seals!” Dad pointed.

Past the moored boats I saw the black shiny heads of a dozen seals sunning themselves on rocks.

“Tell the story about when Mom saw the seals for the first time,” Bucky said.

Dad laughed. “She didn’t know what they were. Came running up to the cottage, yelling, ‘The rocks are moving. The rocks are moving!’ ” Bucky giggled.

I smiled. “They didn’t have wild seals in Michigan.”

Dad nodded, grinning. “They sure didn’t.”

I remembered Mom here on the dock, wind blowing her hair as she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out at the water.

“Can we go to Pear today?” Bucky asked.

“I need to work,” Dad said. “I brought back the new journal. The author turned out to be Walter Steele’s grandma Edna Monahan. She lived here at the same time as Thaddeus. Imagine that, a hundred years ago!”

Before most of the cottages had been built—and the Big House, tennis courts and rope swing, too. I brought my knees to my chest. Ian didn’t care one bit about breaking the swing.

Dad nudged my shoulder. “I’m sure camp was great. The kids probably loved it.”

I nodded. Would Ian show up on Wednesday?

“Don’t worry about the swing, Goose. It sounds like it was an accident. I’ll go with you later to tell Joel Ramsey about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. Mr. Ramsey was president of the Point that summer.

Dad cleared his throat. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Bucky had been leaning over the dock, his arm in the water, but now he sat up. I hugged my knees tighter. I didn’t like how serious his voice sounded.

“Julia’s coming to Portland in two weeks, staying for the
weekend with friends, and so I thought we could invite her up that Sunday.”

“But what would we do with her all day?” I asked.

“What we always do. Picnics. Walks.”

“Can we take her camping on Upper Egg?” Bucky asked.

I shot him a look. The past year we’d taken a friend of Dad’s hiking at Pear, but we’d never taken
anyone
camping. “But she won’t know anyone.”

“She’s pretty friendly,” Dad said. “I think it’ll be okay.”

The art historian Dad had dated a couple of years earlier had never come here to visit and she hadn’t come to our house in Boston much. The PT had been around a lot. The first time I met her, she tripped and fell over our coatrack.

Aside from being a klutz, she smiled too much. She had this huge mouth with teeth the size of piano keys. Her smile was blinding.

“Lucy?” Dad’s smile faded and I felt a sting in my chest.

“I don’t care.”

“Can we go to Pete’s for ice cream, huh, Dad?” Bucky asked.

I felt Dad staring at me, but I didn’t look up. He said, “After dinner.”

“Can’t we go now?”

“Buck.” Dad frowned. “I’ve got to work.”

Bucky huffed extra loudly and I shook my head at him. Dad didn’t get angry at us very often, but I couldn’t stand it when he did. Like last year when Bucky put a hole through
our couch with a screwdriver, Dad was
so
mad. He wouldn’t talk for the whole day and I felt awful, even though it wasn’t my fault.

I just liked it best when Dad was happy.

He started up the stairs. I stared at the water.
Great
.

n Thursday morning Lauren and I stood inside her cottage, waving good-bye to Mrs. Dennis and Stevie. My first babysitting job of the summer, not counting camp. I looked at the knotty paneling and bookcases. It was like our cottage, only it didn’t smell like mildew.

Lauren circled me, following Superior. Finally Superior wiggled between my legs and looked up:
Help!
Lauren sighed, her shoulders falling.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Superior’s a little different, remember? She’s friendly, but most of the time she doesn’t let anyone but me pet her.”

Lauren sat, her polar bear, Poley, in her lap and tears in her eyes. I couldn’t stand that she was sad, so I sat next to her. Superior stayed close, but just out of Lauren’s reach.

“She was trained to listen to one person,” I said. “I’m that person now.”

“You’re like her mom,” Lauren said.

I’d never thought of it like that. I pulled a dog treat from my pocket and handed it to Lauren. She put it in her palm and when Superior took it, she quickly petted her.

She grinned and jumped up. “Let’s go see the neighbors’ new dock.”

The air was cool and damp and the sky was gray. I turned the corner into the backyard and stared at a huge new dock at Ian’s house, the Debacle. It took up the entire waterfront with its wooden beams, shiny metal posts and boathouse.

“Let’s see if the jellyfish came back, the ones that don’t sting.” Lauren ran to the water and waded in.

I glanced back at the Debacle. Dozens of windows stretched across the house. Bushes and flowers lined the deck. Allison waved from a chair, then walked toward us.

“Like the new dock?” She wore big dangling earrings and carried a book.

“What was wrong with the old one?” I asked. Lauren walked up next to me.

“Probably nothing. My dad’s a builder, so he builds things.
Big
, new things.”

“What’s that?” Lauren pointed to Allison’s book.

“Drawings.” She opened her notebook. Inside were pencil drawings of buildings, bridges and statues. Her lines were straight, the details sharp. On one building you could see every brick, every skinny layer of mortar. These drawings must have taken her hours.

“They’re really good.” I pointed to a building. “Think your dad could build that?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, right. He’s never sat still long enough to look at them.”

“Oh.” I paused. “Did you copy them from a book?”

“No. I made them up.”

“Wow. I like to draw, too.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Another thing we have in common.”

I grinned, then shook my head. “Oh, no, I’m not near as good as you.”

“Hello, there!” Mrs. Richards called as she walked over. Her long hair was in a ponytail and she wore a short pink skirt and sandals with sparkles.

“Hi!”

She smiled at me, then turned to Allison. “Did you ask Lucy about the trash?”

Allison looked at me. “Last night we put the trash in the garbage can and this morning it was all over the yard.
I
had to pick it up.”

“Oh, raccoons probably got into it. You should either keep your trash inside your garage with the door closed or tie it in bags and put it on top of your car. Then you can take it to the Dumpsters. Trash pickup is every Tuesday.”

“Aha!” Mrs. Richards nodded. “I kept seeing trash bags on cars.”

Allison snorted. “You put
trash
on your car? What are they, super raccoons?”

“They’re nocturnal,” Mrs. Richards said.

Allison rolled her eyes. “I know they’re nocturnal.”

“What’s nocturnal?” Lauren asked.

“It means they sleep during the day and come out at night,” Allison said. “And they’re omnivorous, so they eat plants, animals, anything. Their scientific name is
Procyon lotor
. Native Americans called them
aroughcun
, which translates, ‘he who scratches with his hands.’ ”

Wow! She was an encyclopedia.

“You sure know a lot about raccoons,” Lauren said.

“Just one of those stupid things you learn in school.”

“Do you have a photographic memory?” I asked.

“Something like that,” Allison said. Mrs. Richards sighed. Allison grinned at me.

“Well, I’d love to hear more pointers, Lucy.” Mrs. Richards turned for her house. “How about stopping by soon for a glass of iced tea?”

“Okay.” My smile got bigger and bigger as I watched her go into the house.

When I turned back, Allison was staring at me. “My mom said you’re in class with Ian. Poor you.”

I hesitated.

“Don’t tell me he has you fooled, too. Mr. Personality! I thought at least
you’d
see through him.”

I
did
see through him! But it didn’t feel right to bad-mouth him to his sister.

I hadn’t seen Ian since he’d broken the swing. Mr. Ramsey told me that Ian had apologized. Had he gotten in trouble? Was that why I hadn’t seen him?

We turned as a speedboat approached. Kiki, her red hair blowing behind her, pulled up to the dock. Tonya jumped out, rope in hand, and tied the boat. They waved.

“Where’s your new inner tube?” Kiki yelled.

“I’ll get it!” Allison waved back.

“Come on, before the rain!” Tonya said.

“Later, kiddos.” Allison stuck her book on the deck, reached underneath and rolled a giant inner tube down to the dock.

Tonya helped Allison put it in the boat. They jumped on board and Kiki waved as she drove away.

I smiled as they grew smaller and smaller under the gray sky. So, Allison was friends with the older girls. And I was friends with Allison.

For lunch we went into town, to the Clam Shack. We ordered clams, root beers, french fries and onion rings and took everything outside to a picnic table.

The rain was soft and misty and fell silently on the umbrella above us. This was our favorite place to eat, and because of the weather, we had it to ourselves.

Dad’s phone rang. “It’s Grandma.”

He set his phone on the table and pressed Speaker. Bucky and I said hello.