which was ironic, since the first thing he did was light a cigarette.
He took a deep drag, welcoming the smoke into his lungs. He had waited on the docks for Patricia to leave Hawkes’ cabin for as long as he could without drawing attention to himself, but she never came out. He wasn’t sure why he had bothered, but something about her troubled him, and it had nothing to do with her little girl drowning. He had spent much of the afternoon and evening alone, stopping briefly at The Pop-Inn, but no one was there.
Eventually he wandered into the bar and spent the last several hours hanging out with Eddie and Sheila. The two were still hopelessly in love. Or perhaps he was thinking like the silly romantic Jo had always accused him of being.
The smoke snaked from his mouth in slow, deliberate swirls. His stomach churned from too much beer and lack of food. He hadn’t eaten in hours. His temple throbbed. He was dehydrated. He licked his dry cracked lip.
But no matter how bad his stomach clenched in need of food or how bad his body needed water, his feet were rooted to the spot. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the two boys in the middle of the lake on the floating pier. It was as though he were staring into the past, looking out at two ghosts.
He recognized Johnny and Chris and realized just how distinguishable he and Billy must have looked under the same moon. His mind had gone back to that night so many times before, but now, looking in from the outside, it was a miracle no one had witnessed what he had done.
* * *
Billy had climbed the ladder right after Jo had swum to shore. They stood and watched her run across the beach, staggering and falling in her attempt to flee. She grabbed her clothes and disappeared behind the Pavilion. She had listened to Kevin when he had told her to run home and tell no one. She was terrified, thinking she had pushed Billy into the lake and that he had drowned.
But Billy was back on the pier, cradling his right forearm where he had hurt it. The water dripped from his shorts, making tiny splattering sounds on the wood. He tossed his head to the side to get the wet hair out of his face and smiled a cock-sure smile. He had intended to scare them. To him, it was a game.
But it wasn’t a game to Kevin. Billy had played him for a fool one too many times. And now Billy had done the same to Jo. He had frightened her to death. And Kevin couldn’t take it any longer. He had had enough. He’d show Billy once and for all he shouldn’t mess with him, he didn’t deserve Jo.
He took a deep, sobering breath. His mouth tasted like metal. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He felt as though he were someone else, that someone full of rage and frustration had invaded his body.
Slowly, he turned toward Billy.
“She’ll never choose you over me,” Billy said so confidently and smugly.
Something much more than rage shot through Kevin: a thick, hot fury. Before he could stop himself, he struck Billy hard in the chest, much harder than he thought possible, surprising Billy and knocking the wind out of him, sending him back over the edge of the pier. There was a loud crack, but this time it wasn’t Billy’s arm striking the pier; it was his head hitting one of the wood planks before his body slapped the water with a thwump.
Kevin’s blood rushed in his ears. Sweat seeped from his pores and adrenalin pulsed through his veins. He got him good this time. He did. He wouldn’t be pushed around anymore. He wouldn’t. But my God, what was he thinking?
Billy was going to kill him when he climbed back onto the pier.
Kevin had to pull himself together. His breath was ragged. He lifted his chin and hiked his shoulders back, prepared to fight again. He stood with his fists up, waiting for Billy to surface. He wasn’t sure how long he was standing that way, waiting—long enough for his arms to get tired.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re not fooling me. Not this time.”
He strained to look over the edge where Billy had gone into the water, not wanting to get too close in case he was waiting to pull him into the lake. There was no way