up and down at the fish market.
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “You know, Bean, someday you’re going to have sex and you’re going to like it.”
She doesn’t get it. It’s not Curtis’s body that I think is disgusting, it’s Curtis’s entire existence. I wonder if she knows about the accident and that he was in jail for nine months. He doesn’t strike me as the most forthcoming guy. But it also strikes me as something that all of his friends talk about and if Scarlett is here during the off-season—she has to know. Either way, I don’t mention how much I know.
“Do you think he’s a . . .” I choose my words while trying to seem normal. “. . . a good person?”
“What do you mean, ‘good’?”
Nope, she’s not going to give anything away.
“A good guy,” I repeat.
“Yeah, why not? I mean he has feelings and is courteous or whatever. People aren’t either just good or bad, Beanie. They’re complex. Layered.”
I circle back to her last comment about having sex and liking it. I can absolutely imagine taking my clothes off with Andrew. I’ve never considered having sex with anyone. Not until now. I’m not about to run off and do it tomorrow but Andrew is different—special.
“I’m not afraid of kissing or sex,” I say.
Scarlett whips around in her chair. Her jaw drops.
“Did you seriously just say that? Have you even kissed anyone besides Tucker?”
“He was my first boyfriend!” I say. She gets up and closes a drawer filled with bikinis. “Give me a break,” I add.
“Any new boys on the horizon?” she asks.
“Are you really asking me this?”
“Yeah, why not?” she says.
I narrow my eyes. “No,” I say. “No boys. But maybe you could bring one back for me from New York!”
She flips off the light but the rainy daylight blankets the room. We walk back downstairs. Scarlett doesn’t say anything else. I kind of wish we could keep talking but she joins Mom in the foyer. I don’t remember us ever talking about boys before.
She hikes her bag over her shoulder and readies her things for the bus ride from Hyannis to New York City. I finish my cereal on the couch.
Maybe she’ll come give me a hug. I check out my reflection in the window. Black eyeliner still burrows in the corners of my eyes. I wipe them again with my napkin.
“See you soon!” Scarlett calls, and it singsongs through the hall. I guess that’s a no on the hug good-bye. She’s not big on public displays of affection, especially with me.
The rain hits the panoramic windows and skylights above in a steady, increasing rhythm. I place my cereal bowl down. I cannot stop replaying last night at the Alvin in my mind.
Rain comes down even harder and smacks the windows. The metal of the patio furniture clangs in the wind.
The phrase swim to the moon has been running through my mind for days. I haven’t asked Andrew what it means, and Mom took her computer with her to go to a coffee shop after dropping off Scarlett, so I can’t look it up.
Out the living room window, the rain comes down sideways.
No star gazing tonight. I glance over at the desk in the living room with Dad’s copy of the Waterman Scholarship folder sitting on it like dead weight—the blue of its glossy cover mocks me. After I steam clean the dress, I’ll go to the library and get started on how to format my essay in proper MLA format. Thank goodness for Sunday summer hours. Maybe I’ll even figure out what Andrew’s tattoo means while I am there.
I snatch the dress to start the steam clean routine and head upstairs.
The rain splashes around my ankles and the bottom of my flip-flops, making my feet slip and slide. I run up the cement steps of the Orleans library and when I grab for the silver handle, my slicked hand slips as another hand reaches for the door.
Curtis.
“American flag string bikini,” he says. Is that what he’s going to say every time he sees me?
We step into the darkened foyer and I wring out my hair; long strands stick to my back and I shiver when icy raindrops trickle down my spine. I’m standing in the library with someone who definitely knows Scarlett. I cross my arms over my chest.
The light above us flickers and makes a blinking sound. There’s a line of windows at the back wall of the library. The sky has darkened even more.
Cumulonimbus