had a boyfriend. Drew and I had been together since my freshman year, and he hoped we’d be together for a long time. He would be graduating in the spring and then would begin lobstering full-time. He wasn’t book smart or what you would call artistic or intellectual, but he could fix almost any engine, whether it be to a snowmobile, a snowblower, or outboard motor. Since Drew was a star football and hockey player, many kids in town looked up to him. Knowing that I wanted to continue my education, he hoped that after graduation I might attend the local community college so I could be closer to him. Little did he know that I wanted more out of life than attending some stupid community college, where kids ended up, rather than choosing to be. No, I wanted to leave Shepherd’s Bay and go somewhere else. To a college where I could shed my skin and find the real me.
Everyone at the party laughed and told funny stories about shopping or money. No one seemed to hold it against me that I was a townie—and a poor one at that, as if the two weren’t mutually exclusive. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had a drink of some kind in hand. I didn’t know any of these kids, but I wanted to know and like them. They seemed interesting and exotic, and they all lived on Harper’s Point and attended prestigious Chance Academy.
The boy put his arm around my shoulder and then passed me a bottle. I giggled and pushed it away. I’d tried a sip earlier and found the liquor bitter and off-putting, like liquid licorice. How could people drink such awful stuff? So I had decided to stick to the fruity iced teas and hard lemonades and anything with a “Rita” at the end of its name. At one point he leaned over to kiss me, but I laughed and playfully nudged his face away, even though he smelled like new leather. It was not that I didn’t want to kiss him, because I sorta did. What scared me most was what might happen once I gave in to temptation. Where would that lead to? What would I become? And what would Drew think if he ever found out that I’d kissed another boy? Never mind a boy from Harper’s Point.
It took me a second to realize that Willow had left the party. Where had she gone? And where were her parents? I had assumed they’d stick around and act as chaperones. Were they staying upstairs while us kids partied like rock stars down on the main floor? Would they be upset if they knew what we were up to?
Someone lit a joint, and the familiar scent hit me right away. I often detected that smell inside my father’s truck. It clung to the vinyl seats, the floor mats, and the headliner. I’d even seen him smoking pot on occasion, although he tried to hide it from me as much as possible. When I had asked him once why he smoked pot, he’d said it helped him with his anxiety. I had never known before then that my father suffered from anxiety or thought his life was in any way hard. He seemed happy all the time, seemed like the last person on the planet who might be suffering.
Someone passed the weed to the boy, and he inhaled deeply and passed it over to me. I took the joint and immediately passed it over to the girl sitting to my right, then watched as she laughed drunkenly.
Julian came out of nowhere and stood in the middle of our group, looking delicious in every kind of way. He was like no other boy I’d ever seen in Shepherd’s Bay. Whereas the boy next to me was tanned and preppy, Julian looked like a painter or a lead guitarist in a band. He had these narrow, smoky eyes that I couldn’t look away from and painted black nails that hinted at some deeper nature. The two boys couldn’t have been more different, and yet everyone seemed to get along wonderfully.
A few minutes later Willow appeared out of nowhere, and she hung on to Julian’s arm, as if she were a Christmas ornament. She seemed flirty and unusually happy, and I chalked it up to the alcohol. Certainly, she appeared more social with this crowd than with the kids from Shepherd’s Bay. It made sense. These were her people. Her clan.