about it.”
“You don’t think I should say anything?”
“No,” Max said. “You know Claire. She doesn’t like to dwell on things.”
“Yeah, but I’ll feel weird not mentioning it.”
“Trust me, she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
So now there were two things that Cleo wasn’t supposed to talk about. She took a deep breath and looked out the window.
“Are you okay?” Max asked.
“I’m just nervous, I guess,” she said.
Max reached over and took her hand. “It’ll be fun,” he said. “I promise.”
Cleo felt very grown-up just then, driving with her boyfriend to join his family on vacation, discussing the things that they weren’t to discuss with the rest of the family. And the two of them drove almost the whole way like that, holding hands, sometimes linking their fingers, sometimes just resting against each other. It thrilled Cleo a little bit to be doing this, traveling in a car, with her live-in boyfriend, driving through the night with their secrets between them.
CHAPTER 5
The house at the shore looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. When Claire was little, she used to call it the Gingerbread House, because it was tan and pink with sculpted posts, and rising turrets that looked like the perfect place for hiding a princess. She’d been there every year since she was a baby. Even the year she was in college, when she had her own shore house with friends in Ocean City, she still stayed at the Gingerbread House for the last two weeks of August.
She’d pretended to be annoyed that summer, pretended that her parents were making her stay with them, but really she was grateful. She’d been sharing a room with Lainie, which meant that she was also sharing a room with Brian. The room smelled like mildewy towels and had two twin beds with thin mattresses that dipped in the middle. Every night, Claire had to get upstairs before Lainie and Brian, put on her Discman, face the wall, and pray for sleep so that she could ignore whatever happened when they came in. The alternative was to sleep on the couch downstairs, which always felt wet and smelled worse than the bedroom—a mix of feet and old cheese.
There was sand all over the house, dirty dishes everywhere, and every morning Claire woke up sunburned and hungover. She was filled with relief when it was time to go to the Gingerbread House. She packed up her clothes quickly, saying, “This sucks, I can’t believe I’m missing the end of the summer here. Yeah, my parents are so annoying.”
Claire loved the Gingerbread House, loved waking up to the sound of waves and the smell of sand. It was part of the reason she’d finally agreed to go this year. Well, that and also because she didn’t have enough money in her account to pay September’s rent.
She’d taken the train to Philly on Saturday, and her parents and Martha had picked her up at the station and they’d all headed right for the shore. Everyone was in a great mood. Her dad was whistling, her mom was almost bouncing up and down in her seat, and Martha wasn’t discussing any recent tragedies. Claire started to feel calm for the first time in months. This was exactly what she needed. She had three new books to read, and the thought of lying on the beach and resting in the sun sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world. And then when the time was right, she’d tell her parents that she was broke. And moving home.
But that would all come later. She could wait until the end of the week to fill them in. Actually, it was preferable, since she could just leave right after. In the meantime, she’d enjoy her vacation, go for a walk on the beach or the boardwalk. Eat saltwater taffy. Just relax.
When they were younger, all of the cousins stayed in the same room. Cathy, Martha, Claire, Drew, and Max were all tucked away in bunk beds and sleeping bags. One summer, Martha forgot to put sunscreen on her feet and they burned, badly. She’d insisted that the fan in the room had to stay pointing right at her feet to cool them down, instead of circulating the room like it normally did. They’d all disagreed, of course. But as soon as Martha thought they were all asleep, she’d pull the lever on the fan to make it stop, and one of the other kids would realize it and yell,