I already had a plan. Summer vacation had just started and Marsh had come up with all these
adventures for us to go on that I had promptly trashed. I didn't want to waste time camping or sailing when we could be at the beach hooking up with any girl who drew breath. But now the beach was out and I had the perfect compromise: Marsh could spend the summer with me up at Thistledown. We'd roll the clock back and goof off like the old days. We could even hang at the lake beach and scout for local talent. Everybody would win.
Except I was too late.
"He's gone," my mother said.
"I'll catch him."
I went for the door but Mom stopped me.
"He said he thought you'd agree to go to the lake," she said. She looked stressed. I guess having one of your kids arrested will do that.
"Yeah. Maybe it's not such a bad idea."
Her tension melted. "Oh thank god."
"One condition," I said. "I want Marsh to come up." It was a no-brainer. Mom loved Marsh.
"Are you kidding? That's a
great
idea but—"
"But what?"
"I just invited him. He wasn't enthused."
I thought about chasing after him, but decided not to. It was the second time I had made that same mistake in five minutes.
"We had an argument," I said. "I'll give him time to cool off and then make nice."
Mom frowned. "He's the last person you should be arguing with."
"Yeah, I know, Mom. I'm an idiot."
"You're not an idiot. You're just—okay, sometimes you're an idiot."
"Thanks. When are we leaving?"
"Tonight," she said quickly, headed for the stairs.
"What's the rush?"
"The sooner we get out of here the sooner I'll stop stressing about police and . . . and . . . counterfeiters. I can't believe I just said that."
"This isn't TV, Mom. Nothing's gonna happen."
"I know, because we're leaving tonight. Pack."
Mom was being dramatic but if it made her happy to be on the next stagecoach out of Dodge, I wasn't going to ruin it for her. Besides, it could work out perfectly. I'd take a few days to scope out the situation at the lake and lay some groundwork for the festivities. By then Marsh would have calmed down and would be open to my invitation... and apology. Neither of us carried a grudge for long. We were too good of friends for that.
I was beginning to think that after the drama of the past few days, the summer could actually end up being pretty decent.
It's amazing to know how totally wrong I was.
2
The town of Thistledown existed for exactly three months every year.
That's what it seemed like, anyway. As far as I knew, every fall the place was dismantled, packed up, and put into storage to wait for the tourists to show up again the following summer. The lake was about seven miles long and surrounded by miles of thick woods and the occasional summer cottage. The town itself was at the southernmost tip. It was three blocks long and loaded with places to buy T-shirts, ice cream, and fried food. There was a mini golf course, a drive-in movie, and a marina where tourists rented boats that they'd take onto the lake and try not to run into one another with.
We had a big cottage right on the water with a dock, a float, and a motor boat that we used to take out for hours, hunting for the best fishing spots. Since Sydney and I spent
most of the summer trying to injure each other, my parents always let us invite friends up to keep us occupied. Though I had lots of company, the best times were always when Marsh was there.
The guy was amazing. He knew about everything. All you had to do was mention some random topic like seaweed and he'd know that Chinese people use it as medicine because it has a high percentage of iodine. Me? I didn't even know what iodine was. Whether we were building rafts or launching model rockets, we were always doing something different and fun. Marsh wanted to know how things worked. He was fascinated by the science. I just liked the boom.
Having Marsh around was a good thing because life among the Foleys was usually intense. Somebody was always pissed off at somebody else for not doing something they should have known better about. I got away from it as much as
possible, which is what made hanging out with Marsh so great. Marsh didn't judge. We pushed each other, but in a good way. He made me think and I made him act.
I thought a lot about Marsh and the good times we'd spent together as I sat on the dock in front of our lake house. Part of it was due to my guilt over having insulted him, but that wasn't the whole story. I was becoming a different person and it wasn't just about getting older. If I was to guess when it was that things started to change, I'd say it was around the time that Marsh's mom was killed. Her death was tragic... and violent. She was a photographer who was on assignment somewhere in Europe and got trapped in a building that collapsed in an earthquake. It was a bad way to go... not that there's any
good
way to go. It destroyed Marsh. I didn't see much of him for a couple of months afterward, and in that time things got strange.
For reasons I can't explain, guys started getting in my face. Challenging me. It was usually over dumb stuff like
"Hey, who you looking at?" But it often led to a fight. I got a reputation for being a brawler, which only led to more guys challenging me. I didn't want to fight, but what could I do? I became a target for every tough guy who wanted to prove they could take me.
For the record, nobody could.
The fighting put me on the radar of some guys who weren't exactly model citizens. They were still in school but didn't go to class much. Or at all. They always had money but none of them had jobs. At least not in the regular sense. They always had something going on, most of which was illegal, like taking bets on football games and printing fake
IDs. One time I went with them to rip off some copper from a construction site. There was nothing clever about it. It was flat-out stealing. I knew it was wrong but I have to admit, it gave me a rush. I didn't even make that much money out of the deal but it didn't matter. It was exciting.
It wasn't the kind of fun Marsh would approve of so I didn't tell him about it... or about anything else I did with those guys. Marsh eventually came out of his self-imposed exile, but things were different and we didn't hang out as much, and I guess I have myself to blame for that. It was tough being one way with my new friends and another person with Marsh. I wasn't even sure which was the real me. A couple of times Marsh got on me for skipping school, but I told him he sounded like a grandpa and he backed off.
Looking back, he was right, but I didn't realize that until my new "friends" set me up with the bogus Yankees tickets. Yes, they were the guys who gave the fake tickets to Mikey Russo, knowing full well he would come to me. I'm not even sure why they did it. Maybe it was a game to them. Maybe they didn't like me after all. Or maybe they were just dirtballs. Whatever. They sent me straight to Trouble Town... and I got even by giving them up to the police.
So much had happened that the idea of going fishing or exploring hidden coves didn't hold the same interest for me as it once had. I wish it did. I guess my hope was that bringing Marsh to the lake would help me recapture some of the old magic. If nothing else I wanted Marsh to know why I had insulted him. It was because I was angry.
Not at him, at myself.
I sat alone for an hour before I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and make the best of the situation. There weren't a lot of options for fun in Thistledown. I could go for a swim. That would eat up a solid ten minutes. I could drive into town and play mini golf. There was a word for that: pathetic. I could see what was playing at the drive-in, but sitting alone at the drive-in goes beyond sorry and straight to weird. It was looking like the best option was to hang out with my parents and play Uno. Yeah. It was that bleak.
I was headed inside when I heard a distinct
thump
sound come from farther along the shore. It was so distinct that it actually made me stop, though there was nothing to see but our old boathouse. I figured the thump was our fishing boat banging around inside. It didn't dawn on me that the lake was totally flat. Still, the sound made me think of the old boat, and that sent my mind racing to other possibilities. I realized that I had one very good option for the evening and decided to take it. I ran inside to tell my parents but they weren't around. Just as well. They would probably have tried to talk me out of it. Before they could get back I grabbed my red Davis Gregory High football jacket and ran for the boathouse.
The structure was nothing more than a double-wide shed that was built half on land, half over the water. I'd like to say we had a super-hot ski boat that could tear up the lake, but what we had instead was the
Galileo.
Marsh named it after the shuttle craft of the
USS
Enterprise
from
Star Trek,
though there was nothing futuristic about it. It was your basic wooden fishing boat that was held together by the many coats of paint we'd slapped on over the years. It may
have looked like a clunker but it had a sweet 85-horsepower outboard that always got us where we wanted to go.
I kicked off my Pumas and stuck them behind a cooler on the shelf. People think I'm nuts but I swear I have a better feel for the boat and navigate better with bare feet. After throwing off the stern line and pushing off, I hurried to the bow and reached out before the boat hit the large double doors that led out to the lake. I unhooked the door latch and pushed one door open while pulling the boat through. Dad had me trained to keep the doors closed and locked. He was afraid that if they were left open somebody might be tempted to steal our stuff. I didn't think any scurvy lake pirates would be interested in pilfering rusty tools and a cooler, but I always humored him and locked the place up tight. After two vicious tugs on the manual starter, the engine sputtered to life and I was on my way.
The sun was already casting a deep orange glow on the calm water. It always got dark early in Thistledown because of the mountains that surrounded the lake. I hated that when I was a kid because it cut down on playtime. As I got older I didn't care much because I played different games that didn't necessarily require sunlight. Part of me wanted to turn the boat north, open it up, and motor over the glassy surface for a couple of hours with nothing to keep me company but the low rumble of the powerful outboard. It was tempting, but I had a better plan in mind. I turned south toward town and the marina at the foot of the lake. Things never seemed to change much in Thistledown. I hoped that meant the same family was still running the marina . . . and that their daughter still worked there.
Her name was Brittany and she was my summertime
girlfriend, though she probably wouldn't
appreciate that I called her that. We first met when we were eleven but didn't really hit it off until two years ago. I'm not sure what took me so long to make a move. She was cute and there weren't a whole lot of other girls in Thistledown. Most came and went with their families on vacation, and very few were over age eight. I started hanging around the marina asking for boating advice I didn't want and gas I didn't need. Brittany wasn't a fool. She knew I was interested but she made me work for it. At first she was all business and I thought I was out of luck until the day she asked me to play mini golf . . . the Thistledown equivalent of a big night on the town.
We ended up having a great summer together. She taught me more about boats than I ever wanted to know and I made her laugh. When summer was over we texted every once in a while but I guess we both got caught up with our normal lives and it didn't last. But the next summer we picked up right where we left off and had an even better time. Neither of us talked about things we had going on at home. Good or bad. We had fun in the moment, which was exactly what I wanted back then . . . and wanted again.
The sales office of the marina stood on solid wooden piles above water level. As I approached in the
Galileo,
I saw Brittany's car parked in the lot. Yes! The summer was looking better by the second. I puttered past the big sternwheeler boat called the
Nellie Bell
that they used for lake tours and rented out for parties. Britt and I used to sneak onto the
Nellie Bell
after closing and sit up top for hours . . . making out and talking and making out. Like I said, it was a great summer. I tied the
Galileo
up to the empty gas dock and made my way across the
labyrinth of floats until I got to the door of the sales office. With a big smile, I stepped inside.
Britt was behind the sales desk. She was as cute as ever
with her short blond hair and freckles. When she heard me
come in, she looked up from her paperwork with a big smile
as if to say: "Hi! What can I do for you?" It was a warm,
welcoming moment...
... that didn't last. The smile dropped from her face so
fast, I could swear I heard it hit the floor.