The Islanders (19 page)

All she had to do now was open her mouth and say, Benjamin, I am totally in love with you. All she had to do was open her mouth and say—

“Benjamin?”

“Yes?”

“I . . . I . . . was just wondering what you'd like me to read next.”

Claire paused at the door to Nina's room. She could hear her sister's voice droning on and Benjamin's occasional interruptions. Good. They would be busy for the next hour at least, then probably Benjamin would stay for dinner.

She mounted the stairs to the next level, her room, perched alone atop the house. There was a small metal box on her desk, a miniature weather station that gave temperature and wind and barometer readings. She noted the information with satisfaction.

Then she climbed the ladder that ran up one wall, pushed open the trapdoor, and climbed out onto the widow's walk. It was her favorite place in the world, quiet, inviolate, with a view of the town, the island, the water, and the overarching sky. It was the reason she loved this house. The reason she would have
a hard time leaving it to go away to college.

The sun was dying over Weymouth, turning the tall buildings there into black rectangles of shadow, turning the water red.

She walked to the west end of the widow's walk to the tall brick chimney that rose beside it and quickly found the right brick. It came out easily. Claire reached inside the hole and pulled out a small leather book.

Claire glanced down at the yard, though she knew it was empty and that no one could have seen her behind the chimney anyway. She sat down on the roof, leaned back against the railing, pulled a pen from the pocket of her jeans, and opened the book to the next empty page.

She put the date and the time at the top of the page. Then the temperature and the wind's speed and direction.

She sighed and looked down at the challenging blank page. This was a momentous entry, probably an ending to a long chapter in her life.

“But that's not the real problem,” Claire said aloud. “It's not just about whether I end it with Benjamin or not.” As sad as that thought made her, it was only part of the problem.

She closed the book. “What's right,” she sneered. She knew perfectly well what was right. The right thing was to tell the truth. But was it the smart thing to do? After all, Lucas had already suffered, and there wasn't anything she could do about that. How would it help for her to suffer as well, and maybe drag her father into it too? In his business, reputation was important.

She opened the book.

She closed the book and stood up. It wasn't a pleasant decision, but it was the smart decision, she told herself. She hid the diary again, replacing the brick.

Which left only the question of Benjamin.

Benjamin would have to go. He was too hard to deceive, too dangerous to have around. The realization gave her a sharp stab of pain. Benjamin had been part of her life for a long time. He was so much like her in many ways: private, aloof, independent, difficult, challenging.

Relentless when he wanted something. And he wanted the truth.

When she thought of Jake, the whole picture changed. Being with him would be so easy. And she had always been attracted to him. It wasn't like this was a sudden decision, not really. She'd thought of him often. Sooner or later Zoey would drop Jake. And then Claire could pick him up.

Her lies would go on unchallenged and everyone would be happy. Except, of course, for Benjamin.

 

Okay, picture me in fifth grade. Braces, hair from hell, clothes from the Miss Young Dork collection, zero buffers, permanent nose zit. Such a dweeb even I didn't want to hang out with me.

Still, there was this guy named Sketch. Really, I wouldn't make that up; his mom was an artist. He had a brother named Canvas. Anyway, I was in major love with Sketch, who was in sixth grade but was held back in my math class. I drew little hearts on my notebook with “Sketch and Nina” inside. I held imaginary conversations wherein I would try out lines like, “Meet my boyfriend, Sketch,” or “Allow me to introduce my husband, Sketch.”

Often I would become distracted and start coming up with sentences like, “This is Sketch, he's a bit of a lech, but he's fetched a job as a sketch artist in Saskatchewan.”

But to get back to the point, which is my pathetic love life. Sketch seemed somewhat unaware of my love for him. In fact, he seemed somewhat unaware that I was alive. So I decided to come up with a foolproof plan to make him love me. It had five steps:

1. Try to sit next to him at lunch.

2. Let him copy off my math tests.

3. Always smile at him but don't show braces.

4. Try to run into him at the mall.

5. Get Claire to find out if he likes me.

I didn't have much success with steps one through four. But five worked beautifully. Claire agreed to find out if he liked me.

He didn't.

He did, however, like Claire, who was his same age and had no braces, no zits, perfect hair, and the Grand Tetons.

All of which taught me one very important thing. I should have come straight out with it and told Sketch how I felt.

It probably wouldn't have worked any better, but at least he wouldn't have ended up going out with my sister.

“WAIT A MINUTE,” AISHA GRAY
said. “You had Lucas in the closet.”

“Yes.”

“And Jake in your room,” Nina said, giving Aisha a sly look. She shook her head and took a drag on the never-lit cigarette stuck in the corner of her mouth. “And here Aisha and I don't have even
one
boyfriend between us.”

“It wasn't a moment to be proud of,” Zoey said darkly.

They were standing together at the stern railing of the
Minnow
, the ferry that ran from the islands, Chatham, Allworthy, and Penobscot, to the mainland city of Weymouth, where all the island kids of high school age attended school. It was a gray, overcast, chilly morning, too chilly for the second week of September, but then, Maine could grow cold without warning.

Zoey looked over her shoulder at the rest of their friends. Claire sat reading her history book, her long, glossy black hair lifting in the breeze. Benjamin sat beside her, tilting his head to better hear the cries of the gulls floating along in the air beside
the ferry. He smiled as a wisp of Claire's hair floated across his face.

To their right, up in the front corner of the open deck, sat Jake, staring stonily ahead, arms spread across the bench back, feet propped on the railing.

Lucas was in the far-left corner reading a book, occasionally combing his hair back with his fingers.

Zoey shook her head and sighed.

“Yeah, things have changed,” Nina said, as though Zoey had spoken aloud. “Used to be we all sat together, more or less.”

“The good old days of last week,” Aisha said.

Zoey bit her lip. Aisha did not approve of her decision to be with Lucas. She thought Zoey should be able to control her romantic impulses. Aisha was taller and thinner than either Zoey or Nina, with an explosion of long, springy hair pulled back from her skeptical, high-cheekboned face. She used her extra inch of height to look down, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head at Zoey's folly.

“And you haven't even told Jake yet,” Aisha added in a low whisper. “You need to tell him, Zoey. It's only fair. You should have told him already.”

“I'm going to go sit down,” Nina said.

“No,” Zoey said, grabbing her friend's arm. “You guys have to stay here with me. If we sit down, I'll have to either sit with
Jake, which will hurt Lucas's feelings, or else sit with Lucas.”

“Which will start World War III,” Nina said.

“If we just stand here and look like we're talking about girl stuff, neither of them will care.”

“Girl stuff?” Nina turned the phrase over. “Girl stuff? You mean like we should be discussing our favorite brand of tampon or something?”

“Or we could all just huddle together and giggle,” Aisha suggested acerbically.

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Look, we can talk about peace in the Middle East if you want, just so long as neither guy thinks I'm avoiding him.”

“See, this is what I said would happen when you started fooling around, Zoey,” Aisha said. “Now Nina and I are dragged into it and everyone is lying to everyone else.”

“You don't have to lie,” Zoey said, stung by Aisha's words.

“You're lying to Jake, Nina and I are lying to Jake and Claire, Benjamin knows, so he's obviously lying to Claire, too. Lucas is lying by pretending he doesn't care about you. I mean, jeez, Zoey. A week ago we were all close friends who more or less told each other the truth.”

“More or less,” Nina added.

“Look, I'll tell Jake soon,” Zoey said. “I promise.”

“Like that will fix everything right up,” Aisha muttered.
“You're going to dump a guy you've been going with forever so you can be with a guy who, according to you, is about to get shipped out of town by his own father. People get led around by their hormones, and this is what happens.”

“So,” Nina said brightly, “let's talk about tampons.”

“Aisha, just because you have no romance in your soul doesn't mean that those of us who do are idiots,” Zoey said defensively. Too much of what Aisha was saying was hitting home.

“But you have
two
romances in your soul at the same time,” Nina pointed out.

Zoey hung her head. They were right. She was putting her friends in an awkward position. She was forcing them to choose between her, on the one hand, and Jake and Claire on the other. And worse than that, she was basically making a fool out of Jake behind his back. Plus forcing Lucas to deny his own feelings.

She raised her head. “Please, you guys, I know this is bogus, but I need your help. Just until I tell Jake, which I promise will be soon.”

“Look,” Nina said, nudging Aisha. “She's got a tear in her eye. Right there in the corner.”

“That is so manipulative,” Aisha said, shaking her head. “I'll bet she can't squeeze it out.”

“I wish I could do that,” Nina said. “The ability to generate tears is very useful.”

“Yeah, it works even on me,” Aisha admitted. “All right, Zoey, cut it out. I'm not mad at you, I'm just saying you should focus more on controlling your emotions.”

Zoey smiled and wiped away the tear. “You know something, Eesh? You talk tough, but someday you're going to fall so hard over some guy it's going to be pathetic to watch.”

“Not me,” Aisha said confidently.

“It's Jake,” Nina hissed. “He's coming over, and Lucas is watching him.”

Zoey kept her gaze focused away. She made quick eye contact with Nina and Aisha. Aisha nodded imperceptibly.

“No, no, I really prefer the plastic applicator,” Aisha said.

“But they're not biodegradable,” Zoey argued loudly.

“Hey,” Nina nearly shouted. “What's the matter with good, old-fashioned Kotex? I'm talking maxi-pads, big, thick, like walking around with a mattress down your panties.”

From the corner of her eye Zoey saw Jake freeze. His lip curled; he made a disgusted face and veered away.

“Gets 'em every time,” Zoey said. “Now, getting back to peace in the Middle East . . .”

Jake stopped at midcourt, dribbling the basketball and looking over the defenders. Well, well, he was in luck. Lucas was right between him and the basket.

“Move the ball, McRoyan!” Coach Zane yelled from the sidelines. This was just regular gym class, but Coach Zane also coached the varsity basketball team, and he had been trying for some time to get Jake to abandon football in favor of basketball.

Jake saw one of his teammates running a pattern that would set him up perfectly for a pass, but Jake didn't want to pass. He wanted to take the ball to the net himself. And he wanted to take it right through Lucas Cabral.

He made his move, plowing forward, big, unstoppable, aiming straight for Lucas. Jake dropped his shoulder, football style, and hit Lucas squarely in the chest. Lucas was knocked back, falling spread-eagle toward the hardwood floor.

But as Lucas fell, his foot lashed out. Probably just an accident, Jake realized; still, it landed with deadly accuracy. Jake took two more steps before the pain hit him. He let the ball roll free and doubled over, clutching at himself.

“Foul!” Coach Zane yelled. “Come on, McRoyan, this ain't football. You can't just hit a man.” He came running over and looked down at Jake, now on his knees. “You all right? Serves you right, taking a cheap shot. Okay, that's the period, hit the showers,” he said as Jake got to his feet.

The thirty guys in the class all ran for the showers, stripping off sweaty shirts and shorts the minute they were inside.

“You gonna live, Jake?” Lars Ehrlich asked, grinning as he twirled the combination to his gym locker.

Jake gave him a sour look. “I wish I knew whether that was deliberate,” Jake said, glaring across the room at Lucas, who had slipped under the shower head and was lathering a bar of soap.

Jake removed the rest of his gym clothes, stuffed them loosely in the bottom of his locker, and headed for the shower himself. Lucas moved away as he approached.

Jake snorted. Probably afraid Jake was going to start something. But no, he'd promised Zoey he wouldn't go after Lucas, no matter how sick it made him to have to be in the same room with the guy.

“Don't worry, killer,” Jake said. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Everyone in the shower room instantly shut up and all eyes turned toward Lucas. Lucas stuck his head under the spray and said nothing.

“Looks to me like he's ignoring you,” Lars said.

Jake watched Lucas closely. It was possible that kick had been deliberate, which meant Lucas could be fast and accurate, even while falling. Still, Jake had thirty or forty pounds on him.

“He's afraid if he tries to say anything, he'll burst out crying,” Jake said dismissively.

Lucas squeezed the water out of his hair and met Jake's eye. He seemed to be debating with himself, then shrugged and
shook his head. He walked out of the shower, picked up his towel, and slung it over his shoulder.

After he'd dressed he came back toward Jake and planted himself squarely, feet wide apart, in front of Jake's locker.

Jake finished buttoning his shirt and faced him, hands loose at his sides.

“I've really been hoping we wouldn't have to go through this, Jake,” Lucas said in a low voice. “But you're the kind of guy who just won't let things go.”

“Things? You mean like I should just get over the fact that you killed my brother?”

“I'll say this once. There were three of us in that car, and all three of us were drunk. I pleaded guilty and I've done my time, and it's over.”

Jake felt anger boiling up inside him. “I promised someone I wouldn't beat the crap out of you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Don't let that stop you,” Lucas said.

Jake clenched his fist, but then, with an effort, he relaxed. He smiled coldly. “You're not worth it. You're gone, anyway. Your own father is kicking you out.”

“Zoey told you that?” Lucas demanded sharply.

It took several seconds for the implication of Lucas's question to sink in.
Zoey told you that
? Zoey?

“Your father let my dad know he was shipping you off,” Jake explained in a halting, disconnected voice. His brow was deeply furrowed, but his eyes unfocused. “What was that about Zoey?”

“Nothing,” Lucas said, but his eyes betrayed the truth.

“You've been talking to Zoey?”

“Who I talk to is none of your business.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“She's not your property, Jake.”

Jake swung fast, but wild. Lucas caught his fist against his right arm, then drove his own fist into Jake's neck. Jake gasped for air, choking, and a second blow caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. He sank to his knees on the tile. Lucas stood over him, a cold look in his eyes. Jake reached to grab him, but Lucas backed away, out of range.

“I gave you one free shot last week on the ferry,” Lucas said. “Don't try me again, Jake. I've spent the last two years with a very unfriendly crowd, learning how to take care of myself. Don't push me too far.” He turned and walked out the door.

Jake got up, feeling humiliated and furious.

“He sucker-punched you,” Brian McNeil said.

“You'll get him next time,” Lars said sympathetically.

Jake nodded and leaned his head against his locker. His stomach hurt, but he would survive that. Worse by far was the
growing realization of what was happening. Zoey wasn't just
talking
to Lucas.

She's not your property, Jake
, Lucas had said.

Impossible. Could Zoey actually be interested in Lucas? Was she actually seeing Lucas behind his back? His worst enemy? No, that was impossible. Not Zoey. She wouldn't do that to him. He was imagining things.

With numb, unfeeling hands he closed his locker. The room was emptying as guys went off to their next classes.

Zoey and Lucas? He had to know. Even the faint suspicion was too much to bear. He had to know.