over to where her mother was leaning in the driver's-side door, arranging things in the backseat.
"I thought you were staying until the end of next week."
"We changed our minds." She looked into Portia's hazel eyes and was startled by the coldness there. "Not that I didn't have a good time. It's been fun," Cassie added, hastily and foolishly.
Portia shook straw-colored hair off her forehead. "Maybe you'd better stay out west from now on," she said. "Around here, we don't like liars."
Cassie opened her mouth and then shut it again, cheeks flaming. So they did know about her deception on the beach. This was the time for one of those devastatingly witty remarks that she thought of at night to say to Portia - and, of course, she couldn't summon up a word. She pressed her lips together.
"Have a nice trip," Portia concluded, and with one last cold glance, she turned away.
"Portia!" Cassie's stomach was in a knot of tension, embarrassment, and anger, but she couldn't let this chance go. "Before I leave, will you just tell me one thing?"
"What?"
"It can't make any difference now - and I just wanted to know... I just wondered... if you knew his name."
"Whose name?"
Cassie felt a new wave of blood in her cheeks, but she went on doggedly. "His name. The red-haired guy. The one on the beach."
Those hazel eyes didn't waver. They went on staring straight into Cassie's, the pupils contracted to mean little dots. Looking into those eyes, Cassie knew there was no hope.
She was right.
"What red-haired guy on the beach?" Portia said distinctly and levelly, and then she turned on her heel again and left. This time Cassie let her go.
Green. That's what Cassie noticed on the drive north from the Cape. There was a forest growing on either side of the highway. In California you had to go to a national park to see trees this tall...
"Those are sugar maples," her mother said with forced cheerfulness as Cassie turned her head slightly to follow a stand of particularly graceful trees. "And those shorter ones are red maple. They'll turn red in the fall - a beautiful glowing, sunset red. Just wait until you see them."
Cassie didn't answer. She didn't want to see the trees in the fall because she didn't want to be here.
They passed through Boston and drove up the coast - up the north shore, Cassie corrected herself fiercely - and Cassie watched quaint little towns and wharves and rocky beaches slip by. She suspected they were taking the scenic route, and she felt resentment boil up in her chest. Why couldn't they just get there and get it over with?
"Isn't there a faster way?" she said, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a map supplied by the car rental company. "Why don't we take Route 1? Or Interstate 95?"
Her mother kept her eyes on the road. "It's been a long time since I drove up here, Cassie. This is the way I know."
"But if you cut over here at Salem..." Cassie watched the exit go by. "Okay, don't," she said. Of all places in Massachusetts, Salem was the only one she could think of that she wanted to see. Its macabre history appealed to her mood right now. "That's where they burned the witches, isn't it?" she said. "Is New Salem named for it? Did they burn witches there, too?"
"They didn't burn anyone; they hanged them. And they weren't witches. Just innocent people who happened to be disliked by their neighbors." Her mother's voice was tired and patient. "And Salem was a common name in colonial times; it comes from 'Jerusalem.' "
The map was blurring before Cassie's eyes. "Where is this town, anyway? It's not even listed," she said.
There was a brief silence before her mother replied. "It's a small town; quite often it's not shown on maps. But as a matter of fact, it's on an island."
"An island?"
"Don't worry. There's a bridge to the mainland."
But all Cassie could think was, An island. I'm going to live on an island. In a town that isn't even on the map.
The road was unmarked. Mrs. Blake turned down it and the car crossed the bridge, and then they were on the island. Cassie had expected it to be tiny, and her spirits lifted a little when she saw that it wasn't. There were regular stores, not just tourist shops, clustered together in what must be the center of town. There was a Dunkin' Donuts and an International House