some earrings from town?
☑Find out about Tuck and his RSVP to the party.
☐Ettie b-day gift?
SEVENTEEN
STARGAZER? CHECK. LED FLASHLIGHT? CHECK. Approximately 524 bubble gum jelly beans? Check. And a cell phone. I am supposed to use the cell, according to Nancy, if I witness any “drunk townies” down on the beach. Mom and Dad laugh and laugh like this is a preposterous scenario.
As I get to the foyer, Mom and Dad are in the kitchen watching a show about barnacles on the Discovery Channel. Dad sits up straight in his chair and points at the monitor.
“They’re going to reference me!” Dad says. “Wait for it . . .”
I’ve seen that episode about four times.
Scarlett brought that red sundress with her to New York, but she left a short blue one with little white polka dots. I admit, this isn’t the most practical outfit for comet gazing on a chilly beach, but I’ve envisioned it: Andrew and me at night, comet high above, and wind playing in my hair.
“Want me to drive you?” Dad asks.
“No,” I say, “it’s okay. I should do this without any help.”
“Good luck!” He waves from the lounger and tiny hairs sway in the central air. It’s good I caught him before a new episode of Deep-Sea Creatures on PBS at ten thirty.
Once I leave, I’m halfway down Shore Road, eating my fifth jellybean, when a red pickup pulls up next to me.
Andrew rests his arm in the window. Is he wearing a blazer? I rise on my tiptoes to peer into the car. Is that a bow tie? Wait a minute . . . he’s pushed up the sleeves of a tuxedo!
I gasp a little, the cracks in the pavement look like they’re winking.
“Nice outfit,” I say.
Andrew is almost giddy he’s so proud of himself.
“Where’s your ball gown?” he asks.
Scarlett would have thought to play up the joke. Scarlett would have worn a gown to make up for any indiscretions the other night. So instead I say, “It wouldn’t match the telescope.”
“You know, you could drive to the beach instead of lugging all your crap.”
How do I explain this one? Confidence. Scarlett confidence.
“I’m a slave, remember?” I put my hand on my hip like I’ve seen Scarlett do countless times. “My parents have control of the car this summer,” I say, which is halfway the truth and halfway lying. “And this could be considered stalking,” I say, trying to channel my sister.
“You never said where to pick you up. I was going to be a gentleman and knock.”
I get into Andrew’s pickup and hold the Stargazer bag in my lap.
“I’m ready to see some comets,” he says, and we drive toward the beach. When we pull into the parking lot, Andrew takes the telescope bag from my lap and his hands graze my thigh.
“Wait,” I say as he moves to get out of the car.
“This is a very serious scientific experiment. I have to get everything right or there could be catastrophic consequences.”
Andrew is smiling, but he stops and furrows his eyebrows.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are here as an assistant.”
He salutes me in his tuxedo and my heart nearly explodes he’s so cute.
“Let’s go,” I say.
I adjust the backpack, and we head to the steep stairs leading down to the beach.
“So why the comet?” he asks as we pass under a street lamp. Andrew has paired his tuxedo dress pants with flip-flops. “Why the obsession?”
I almost say it’s for school. For high school. I want to tell him every last detail about the scholarship. Instead, I gulp the truth away and choose my words very carefully.
“It’s good to have a specialization when you’re studying at MIT. You know, to come into school with a research project.”
I have no idea if this is true, but it sounds right.
“Nice,” Andrew says.
You’re a nice girl.
“Nice . . . ,” I say, lingering on the word as we step deeper onto the sand and closer to the shore. “I hate that word.”
The farther we walk down the beach and away from the parking lot, the darker it gets, which is exactly what I need. Some people fish at the shoreline. A couple watches the ocean and the waves crash lightly onto the sand.
I stop down the beach at approximately a thousand feet from the parking lot and I look up. Andrew carries the Stargazer and I’m able to get situated much faster. Expected conditions, low-grade light pollution. There’s the constellation I need, Orion. I place my backpack on the sand and take the