Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,19
reflection fades. In my mind, Tucker stands in the light of the street lamp. Becky Winthrop’s name flashes on the screen of his cell phone. “I need to do this experiment.” I say Tucker’s words to the mirror. “Or else I’ll stay the same.”
I put my hands on my hips. I guess Aunt Nancy is right; everything did kind of show up in a year. I raise my neck in the air and my brown hair trickles down my back. It isn’t me in the mirror, that girl with the wide hips and trim waist. My hair isn’t blonde or bone straight like Scarlett’s. My skin is powdery white from the year in the bio lab, but that can be fixed with some quality beach time. Who is this person in the reflection? I cock my head to the side. I look . . . well, I look good.
Scarlett’s bathing suit has made me beautiful. Just as I projected!
I turn to the side to check myself out and have to pull the tiny triangle tops over my breasts so they’re more covered. Eh, I shrug, it’s supposed to look like that.
All experiments have various factors. My first variable is this American flag string bikini.
The experiment is a go. The next step is to execute it. I take off the bikini and place it back in Scarlett’s suitcase. I bend over to pick up my clothes.
“Bean!”
I clutch my hands over my boobs. Nancy’s shriek—can’t miss it anywhere.
In the reflection, my knobby knees cross over each other, my arms bend at strange angles.
“Come help your mother and me! We need to start getting this party menu together and we need help with the computer!”
I fumble into my T-shirt and slide back through the door. Before I jump down the stairs two at a time, I sneak one glance back in Scarlett’s room. I leave the suitcase as I found it.
Open . . . and waiting.
SEVEN
THE NEXT DAY IT’S BUSINESS AS USUAL FOR everyone but me.
Scarlett Experiment: Day 1.
Scarlett is practicing downstairs by 10 a.m. and the moment I finish my comet calculations, I put on the American flag bikini. I hide it under my T-shirt and shorts. Scarlett announced at breakfast that she was going to practice all day. Good. Plenty of time to get her bathing suit back in the suitcase before she even notices it’s gone.
In .75 miles, I am heading past the Nauset Beach guard booth and into the parking lot. Nauset Beach is the kind of place in the summer that smells like onion rings, seaweed, and suntan lotion. In other words, it is the best place on earth. The parking lot is at capacity again, which is good because I can blend in more effectively. There are six lifeguard stations. I’ll go to the fourth one. I nod to myself. Great. I’m nodding to myself in public.
The planks of the boardwalk are hot again. I bring a smaller beach chair than last time and pull it higher under the crook of my arm. Two people with heavy footsteps run up the boardwalk behind me.
“Go! Go! Go!” a male voice yells. A tall guy zips by me and then another.
I whip around just in time to jump out of the way.
One of the guys, in red swim trunks, almost elbows me into the restricted beach grass.
“Sorry!” he calls without a glance backward.
“I could have damaged the dune grass!” I yell. “It’s a very fragile ecosystem!”
He turns.
No way. It’s the guy from the street the other night. Andrew—I think that was his name. He would be perfect for the Scarlett Experiment.
Recognition passes over his face and he jogs back.
When he gets close, he smiles at me.
“You coming down?” he asks and raises an eyebrow. “Or are you going to run away faster than the speed of light again.”
“I think, I mean, maybe.” I sigh. “Yes,” I say, finally getting out something normal to say. Something more like Scarlett. “I am coming down, yes.”
“You sure about that?” he says through a laugh and follows after his friend. He disappears off of the pathway, down the dune, and onto the beach. Be Scarlett, I tell myself. Scarlett wouldn’t trip over her words.
I stand at the top of the boardwalk; Andrew and his friend run toward the ocean. They dump their things in a heap by the shore and dive headfirst into a huge wave. When I can get a good look, I recognize Curtis, the guy that Scarlett likes.