in his and let him lead me inside. The sour smell of fish and salt water overwhelms me and I can’t imagine how I thought this was like a painting. This is how it smells in the cafeteria when they make fish sticks, but worse. I bring my wrist to my nose and breathe in the Egyptian Musk. I note that Andrew hasn’t mentioned the foul odor in here. I guess he’s used to it, working on a lobster boat.
“Andrew!” It’s Scarlett’s Curtis. I immediately survey the market for my sister. The only other people in here are an elderly couple. Curtis looks me up and down, a smile creeps over his face.
“American flag string bikini,” he says with a slow drawl.
What the hell does Scarlett see in this guy?
“Scallops, I need, like, a dozen,” Andrew says to the guy behind the counter.
“You going to beachcomber tonight?” Curtis asks, shooting another glance my way. “I get off in, like, ten minutes. I’m meeting Scarlett at Shelby’s house.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Nah,” Andrew says and lets go of my hand to take out his wallet. Andrew pays before I even get a chance to reach into my pocket. “I can’t go out every night like you.”
“Have fun . . . ,” Curtis says, though the word is drawn out and it’s clear “fun” is code for something else. He winks at me. The bells on the door jingle and we’re outside in the Monet painting again.
I reach into my pocket for the money to help pay for dinner. It’s the right thing to do, even if Scarlett would never offer to pay. I am reminded of the first day on the beach when she expected that the boys would drive her home the minute she asked.
“I should split this with you,” I say.
Andrew’s eyes light up.
“You don’t have to pay; I asked you out,” he says.
“But you should take it; it’s . . . fair.”
I want to show Andrew that I don’t believe he is required to pay for me. I want things to start out equal between us.
Andrew takes the twenty and slides it into my jean pocket.
“I want to treat you,” he says. “That’s the nice thing to do.”
His fingers press against my hip bone and I take a breath. His index and middle finger linger against me. Something erupts in my stomach, maybe lower. I need to take in some air, but it catches a little in my throat.
“Thank—I mean, thank you.”
“Come on, Star Girl,” he says with a wink. “Let’s go; we should get there way before sunset.”
“That reminds me,” I say, stepping into the car. “I have to be back by around ten or so.” Mom has never given me a curfew, but she always checks for Scarlett around ten. “I have to help my mom early in the morning,” I say, thinking fast.
“With what?” Andrew asks, and we turn out of the fish pier, back onto Main Street.
“My sister’s going-away party,” I say. “It’s this big deal to my aunt Nancy.”
Oh crap. What if he knows Scarlett has an aunt Nancy? Okay, don’t panic. I can improvise.
“Wow, sounds annoying,” he says.
“You have no idea,” I say with a deep exhale. I hope he can’t sense my relief.
I cozy into my seat, but we don’t turn toward Nauset Light; we keep driving in the direction of Aunt Nancy’s house.
“We’re going to Nauset Beach? Not Nauset Light?”
“Yep.”
In a few blocks we’ll pass Aunt Nancy’s street. Laurel Street, Squire Court, and there it is: Shore Road. I peer down the lane only to see shadows cast by the long colonial street lamps flanking the sandy street. I wonder why people do that when they pass someone’s street that they know, look down it like that person might be standing there. I want to see if Andrew has ever felt the same way, but I decide that it’s probably better not to say every thought that goes through my mind.
But I do want to say that today I am sixteen years old. I want to share this with Andrew because I know he would be excited. It’s on the edge of my lips, but I know I can’t. Then I would have to admit I lied. Whatever, it’s not like we are going to start a relationship. It’s one date. It’s the Scarlett Experiment.
We drive past the beach guard booth, where they charge the tourists twenty bucks to get on the sand, but