lights the charcoals on a small grill, I survey the coastline. It changes every year with the storms. The Chatham break is a split in the beach where the bay and ocean meet. A small lagoon separates our beach, and in the distance, large swells crash against a sandbar.
Andrew salts the scallops and grabs some butter from a small cooler.
“So where is your sister going?” Andrew asks. “You said your parents are having a going-away party.”
Think fast. “Um, she’s studying abroad for the fall, so my aunt, who we stay with during the summers, is throwing this huge party.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“It’s not that,” I say, jumping to the ground and kneeling down in front of the smoking grill. It sizzles each time Andrew adds a scallop.
“So if you’re happy about the going-away party, why the scowl?”
“Am I scowling?”
“A little.”
“I don’t know why we have to make such a big deal about her leaving,” I say. “Good-bye parties in general confuse me. I mean, why make a big deal about saying good-bye?” I’m surprised it’s easy to say all of this to him.
Andrew shrugs. “Sometimes just saying good-bye isn’t enough. Like if you make an event out of it, it’ll be easier.”
I wish Andrew could be my date at the party. If Tucker did show, he would see me with Andrew and kick himself. He’d wonder how he could possibly give up a girl like me.
Just thinking about Tucker makes me want to go home and recheck my coordinates. Andrew keeps cooking the scallops and I can’t help but compare his frame to Tucker’s. Andrew is so much more built. Tucker is scrawny compared to him.
“Wanna try one?” Andrew asks.
“What?” I jump. “I mean. Okay.”
He laughs a little. “You were deep in thought.” He holds a succulent scallop out to me on a silver fork. I blow on it and take a bite; the butter slithers over my tongue.
“Wow, good,” I say and swallow. He nods once to himself, like it’s an achievement.
The waves crash on the shore. It’s headed toward low tide. It’s still light out and the smoke from Andrew’s grill makes the sky a lavender gray. The stars are just starting to pop through the sky, but we have some time yet.
Maybe I should mention my projection for Comet Jolie? Or would that sound too much like Bean?
I hand Andrew the fork and sit down on the sand a few feet away from the water. I lie down so my hair falls beneath me and the chill of the sand cools the back of my head. I try to seem elegant and relaxed.
The smoke from the grill swirls up to the sky.
“They’re almost done.” Andrew lies down next to me. The sides of our bodies barely touch and I am very aware of the hair on my arms prickling. “What do you see?” he asks quietly.
“I can barely make out Cassiopeia. She’s on her side, watching us from her tipped-over throne.”
“Is that right, Star Girl? Can you tell my future from those stars?”
He shatters my Scarlett confidence with his glance. He draws me to him, like a lighthouse calling the ships home. My heart is pounding. Is this when people kiss for the first time?
I kissed Tucker so many times, but it wasn’t like this, with him staring into my eyes, with the beach and the waves. It was in a bio lab or in my backyard. I want to kiss Andrew so much that my chest aches. I never wanted Tucker like this, with my whole body.
There’s a quick sizzle from the grill behind us and Andrew jumps up before we can kiss and before I can explain that numerology and star charts are complete hogwash.
Andrew uses a plastic spoon to divvy up the scallops. We have some chips, and if I were being myself and not Scarlett, I would have licked the oil from my fingertips. Instead, I wipe them delicately on a paper napkin and take small buttery bites. I tell myself to eat slowly instead of gulping everything down like I usually do.
After we eat, I enjoy the view. I expect Andrew to join me, but he stands at the open driver’s-side door of his truck. He crosses his arms at the wrist. His fingers grasp the bottom of his T-shirt and he slides it off. I have to do a double take.
There’s something scrawled on the underside of his arm, but I can’t make it out because he moves too