by Sarah Dessen
“Not yet,” April corrected, smiling. “Summer just started.”
“She’ll come to her senses,” he told her, rubbing his arm, where a tribal-patterned tattoo covered one bicep.
“And fall for you, Vincent?” she asked him. “Keep dreaming.”
“My point is,” he said, his face flushing, “I just don’t see them together.”
“Why not? He’s totally her type.”
“Which is what? Yacht club?” I asked.
“Rich boy with a dazzling smile,” she said. “And a nice boat. What’s your name again?”
“Emma,” I said. “You’re April?”
“And this is Vincent,” she said, pointing to the guy. “You here for the summer?”
“Just three weeks,” I said.
“How you kin to this lot?” When I just looked at her, not sure what this meant, she said, more slowly, “Are you a Calvander or a Blackwood?”
“Neither. I’m a Payne.” Obviously this was confusing, so I added, “My mom was a Calvander, though. Waverly.”
At the name, her eyes widened. “You’re Waverly’s daughter? Really?”
I nodded, suddenly aware of another set of eyes on me: Roo. He’d been over near another boat, coiling some ropes, but now he turned, looking at me as if for the first time. “Saylor?” he said.
“Her name’s Emma,” April told him. “Keep up, would you?”
“It is Emma Saylor, technically,” I said. “But mostly Emma now.”
I felt like I was apologizing. Maybe because of the way Roo was still looking at me, startled, as if maybe he remembered more of that summer from the group picture than I did. It must have been confusing, for someone to reappear all those years later with a different face and name. Like the past wasn’t what you’d thought. I knew that feeling.
“Okay,” Vincent said, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Godfrey’s at eight, then Lucy Tate’s place afterward, but only if we bring our own beer and don’t criticize her music.”
“Since when do we have conditions?” April said. “I’d rather hang out on the dock and do what I want.”
“It’s high season,” Roo told her. “Docks are out until August.”
“Oh, right. Stupid tourists,” she grumbled.
“What’s the plan?” Bailey called out from the other side of the raft.
“Don’t tell her,” April said. “She’ll just invite all the golf shirts.”
“Godfrey’s, then Lucy Tate’s,” Vincent yelled back anyway.
This seemed to be a signal that things were finalized, as everyone began saying their goodbyes and splitting off to their respective boats. Within minutes, the hum of engines filled the air and I was one of the only ones left, along with April and Vincent, with Roo alongside us behind his own wheel, motor idling.
“Let’s get,” Vincent told April. He looked at me. “You need a ride back to Mimi’s?”
I looked over at Jack, who was still sitting on one of those red benches, Taylor standing in front of him. She’d been talking this entire time, and didn’t seem to have any plans to stop soon. Meanwhile, Bailey had jumped in with the guy in the golf shirt and was already puttering away toward shore.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking at Jack. I still felt like a burden, this time to people I wasn’t even related to. “Maybe I should wait for—”
“I wouldn’t,” April said flatly. “No telling how long they’ll be talking. They are always talking.”
“Right,” I said. “Well . . .”
“I’ll take you, Saylor,” Roo said. When I looked at him, he added quickly, “I mean, Emma. It’s on my way.”
“Great,” Vincent said as April hopped into a nearby small skiff, settling in the stern with the outboard motor there. He untied it, then joined her, his weight wobbling it from side to side. “See you at Godfrey’s.”
Then they, too, were gone, calling out goodbyes to Jack and Taylor as they passed. She was still talking; only he lifted a hand, waving back.
I looked at Roo, who pulled on a faded blue T-shirt before putting his boat into gear. Before, with Jack, I’d waited for permission to get in, which was the wrong thing to do. Then again, I didn’t want to just go for it and risk a repeat of my earlier experience boarding. How could a single step from one floating object to another be so difficult?
I was beginning to sink into an indecisive spiral when he backed the boat up right next to where I was standing, then used one hand to pull it up to the raft’s edge, making it an easy step in to take a seat beside him. Easy was good. Easy, I could take. So I did.
Once we got home, dinner was served.
“All I am saying,” Celeste said as she picked up her burger, “is that I want you to be careful.”
“Mom,” Bailey replied. “You don’t have to give me this same lecture every summer.”
“Apparently, I do. Because you’re already hanging out with yacht club boys.”
“They’re not all alike, you know.”
“They’re alike enough,” Celeste told her. Mimi, at the head of the table, shot her a look over the bowl of potato salad between them. “What? You know what I’m worried about. I mean, we all know what happened when Waver—”
There was the sound of a thump under the table, and Celeste winced. The sudden silence that followed was awkward, not only for the kick Mimi had just given her, but the fact that we all knew it was to protect my feelings.
This was actually the second time my mom had come up since I’d left the raft. The first had been when I was riding back with Roo. Unlike when I’d gone out with Jack, we were side by side. So I was able to get quick glimpses of him, taking in the way his white-blond hair stuck up a bit in the back, the tattoo on one calf that was a series of numbers, and the way that he waved at every boat we passed, flashing a big grin. For all my own glances, he wasn’t looking at me at all, instead squinting ahead, the back of his T-shirt rippling in the strong wind coming off the water. When he finally spoke, it took me by surprise.
“I’m sorry about your mom.”
Even though it had been five years and some days, I worried I’d moved on too much. And then there were times like this, when just a mention of her gave me a pinch in my heart. “Thanks,” I said. “I miss her.”
Now he did look at me: I could see it out of the corner of my eye, even as I watched Mimi’s dock—marked with a sign that said FOR USE BY CALVANDER’S GUESTS ONLY—approach. “She and my dad were friends in high school. Chris Price.”
I nodded, as if I’d heard this name, even though I hadn’t. “He still lives here?”
He looked at me for a second. “No, not anymore. I live with my mom.” He pointed to a line of houses down the shore from Mimi’s, each painted a different bright color—yellow, blue, pink, red, and green—and trimmed with white. “Ours is the green one.”
“Who has the pink?”
“Renters, usually,” he said. “Season just started, though.”
“How many people live here year-round?” I asked.
He was slowing the engine now. “More than you’d think. A lot, like Celeste, have houses they rent out for summer.”
“I thought she lived with Mimi,” I said.
“Only from June to August,” he replied. “The rest of the time they have a place up by Blackwood Station, right on the water.”
“Blackwood Station,” I said. “I feel like I’ve heard of that.”
“You probably have. It’s the only boatyard in town. Plus, the arcade is right there, and the public beach.”
I looked in that direction, getting my bearings, then back up at Mimi’s house, now right in front of us. As I did, I saw Celeste, standing in the grass, one hand shading her eyes as she looked out at us. I couldn’t make out her expression.
“And Celeste is a Blackwood, right?” I asked.
“She was. Her ex-husband, Silas, runs the boatyard and gas station. Been in his family for generations.”
Now I had something else to add to my family tree. “B
ut you’re not a Blackwood or Calvander,” I said, clarifying.
“Nope.” He cut the engine, letting us drift up to the dock. “Silas, Celeste, my dad, my mom, and yours all went to high school together. There’s only one, the same one we all go to now.”
I tried to picture my own parents at my school, Jackson High, walking the same halls I did with Ryan and Bridget. I couldn’t. Nana Payne and my dad lived in Massachusetts when he was in high school, and my mom was, well, here.
“It’s a lot, all this new information,” I said. “I’m honestly having some trouble keeping up.”
“Well, then you need to start asking people their five sentences.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Their what?”
“It’s a lake thing,” he explained. “The basic idea is that since you meet a ton of people at the beginning of every summer, everyone has to condense their bio down to the main ideas. Thus, five sentences.”
“Right,” I said slowly. “What’s yours?”
He cleared his throat. “Born and bred here at North Lake. High school senior this fall. Work multiple jobs. Want to go to journalism school. Allergic to shellfish.”
“Wow,” I said. “Didn’t see that shellfish part coming.”
“An element of surprise and oddity is crucial with this,” he told me. “Hit me with yours.”
“I need five in all?”
“Start with one.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking it over. “Well, I’m from Lakeview. Also about to be a high school senior.”
“Coming out strong,” he said as we hit a wave, water splashing over the bow. “I like it. Go on.”
“My mom grew up here at the lake,” I continued, “but this is my first real visit. I came once as a kid, but I don’t really remember.”
“Nice,” he said. “Facts and intrigue. Now you need something random and memorable.”
I thought for a second. “People don’t get my humor.”
“Meaning?”
“I think I’m funny, but other people often don’t laugh.”
“I know that feeling,” he said.
“You do?” I hadn’t met anyone who could relate before.
“Yep,” he said. “Okay, now for the strong finish. Your shellfish allergy, so to speak. What’s it going to be?”
I had to admit, I was feeling the pressure. Especially as the seconds ticked by and nothing came. What could I say? I was nervous to the point of obsessive? I liked organizing things?
Roo did not rush me. He just waited.
Finally, I had it. “I read the obituaries every day.”
His eyes widened. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Okay, that is good,” he said, then held his hand up for a high five. I slapped it. “You, in five sentences. Nicely done.”
Me, in five sentences. All facts, some informative, some colorful. Not really all that different from the obits themselves, now that I thought of it. Only shorter, while you’re living, and still have time to add more.
Roo slowed the engine, then stopped it entirely, and we drifted up to the dock. As he hopped off the boat, pulling the line with him, I heard the thump of footsteps coming down the dock. Looking up, I saw Trinity approaching, now in a flowing black maxi dress, her hair wet. She looked grumpy, but considering this had been a constant each time I’d crossed her path so far, maybe it was just her face.
“Hey,” Roo called. “What’s up?”
“Mimi says you should stay for dinner,” she replied. “Since you brought her in, and everything.”
Her was me. Apparently. While I was not sure what five sentences Trinity would pick, I was pretty sure one would cover the fact that she really didn’t like me.
“You know Trinity, right?” Roo said to me.
“We haven’t been reintroduced formally,” I told him. To her I said, “Hi. I’m Emma.”
“Hi,” she said, her voice flat. She turned her attention back to Roo. “Where’s Bailey? She’s not answering her phone.”
“Rode off with some yacht club guy,” he replied. “Maybe up at the Station?”
“Of course she is.” Trinity rubbed a hand over her belly. “Like I have the energy to go all the way up there.”
“I can go find her,” I offered. “I need to learn my way around anyway.”
“I’ll walk you,” Roo said. “If I’m coming for dinner, I should go home and change.”
“Will you just drive me?” Trinity whined. “I need to go to the store and I can’t reach the clutch anymore.”
“Sure,” he said agreeably. “Emma, you want to ride along?”
“She should go help with dinner,” Trinity said. Now I was She. “Mimi said to tell her to.”
Roo looked at me. “Oh. Right. Well, rain check.”
“Sounds good,” I said, making a point to act like it was no big deal. Still, as Trinity and Roo started down the dock without me, I felt another sting, this one a sort of shame. Despite all my mom had told me about the lake, none of it explained why so far at least half the females I’d met had disliked or outright hated me on sight.
Now, back at the table, I looked out the window to the sandy beach below the house, where Roo, Trinity, and Jack were sitting in lawn chairs, eating their own dinners. We’d all fixed our plates together, assembly-line style, but it was only after I’d sat down that I realized the table was too small for everyone, and this contingent was eating outside. Which left me with Celeste, Mimi, and Bailey, as Gordon was again lost in her Allies book.
“So,” Mimi said to me. “You getting situated? Meet everyone out at the raft?”
I nodded, finishing my bite of potato salad before saying, “A few people, yeah.”
“Taylor got up in her face,” Bailey said, adjusting the tomato on her burger.
“What?” Mimi said. “Why?”
“Because she was with Jack, and Taylor’s got major jealousy issues.” She rolled her eyes. “Even when they’re together, they’re fighting.”
“It’s not easy to disconnect from someone totally in a place as small as this,” Celeste pointed out.
“Says the woman who married and divorced the same man twice,” Bailey said.
I blinked: this was news to me. Another thing to add to my family tree.
Mimi chuckled. “She’s got you there, Celeste.”
Celeste, hardly bothered, reached for the bowl of potato chips. “I’ve got to tell you, Saylor, when I saw you coming in with Roo, man, it brought back some memories. Wild to see you two together, after how close you were as kids.”
“Wait, what?” I said. Now I felt even worse about our first meeting at the dock, when he’d looked so surprised. “We were?”
“You don’t remember?” I shook my head. “Well, I guess maybe you wouldn’t. You were babies. But yeah, that time you stayed here, you two were like frick and frack. Always together.”
“Remember the best friend hug?” Mimi said, smiling.
“The what?” Bailey asked.
“Whenever Roo and Saylor had been together and then had to split up, they did their best friend hug. Just clung to each other. Lord, it was the cutest.”
Bailey, bemused, glanced at me, and I was pretty sure I blushed. Evidently, embarrassment had no statute of limitations.
“It got me thinking about Waverly and Chris, which of course got me in the gut,” Celeste said to Mimi. “Those two really were inseparable.”
“He did mention that, actually,” I said. “How my mom and his dad were friends.”
“Those Prices. All such sweet boys,” Mimi said, looking out the window. Roo was saying something to Jack, who was grinning, as Trinity, still sour-faced, looked on. “I just hate all Roo’s been through, with his daddy and everything.”
“He said his dad doesn’t live here anymore,” I said. “Where is he?”
There are all kinds of silences. Natural ones, when conversation just ebbs after a flow. Awkward, just after someone’s said something they shouldn
’t. The worst, though, are shocked silences, when no one can speak at all. This was one of those.
“He died, honey,” Mimi said finally. “Before you two were born. Boating accident.”
I didn’t know what to say. All I could do, in fact, was look at Roo again while running through my mind again the moment earlier when I’d asked if his dad was still local. There had been a silence then, too, but only the briefest one, like a song missing a beat. He hadn’t wanted to make me feel bad for being so ignorant. The way I felt right now.
“Oh, my God.” I put my hand to my mouth, horrified. “I had no idea. I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s okay,” Mimi said. When I just sat there, blinking, she added, “Saylor. You didn’t know.”
Down below the house, Jack was now on his feet, his plate empty except for a crumpled napkin. Roo got up as well, then extended a hand to Trinity, pulling her to a standing position. For him, she smiled.
“So. Saylor,” Mimi said. “You going out with the kids tonight?”
I looked at Bailey, who was back on her phone. She didn’t say anything, and the last thing I wanted was to yet again be forced on anyone. “I’m pretty tired, actually.”
“Well, in case you change your mind,” Celeste said, “Bailey, give Emma your number.”
Bailey sighed. “You guys. Seriously. This is getting ridiculous.”
I felt my face blush again. Here I’d thought this cousin was the nice one, but clearly even she was sick of dealing with me. I said quickly, “She doesn’t have—”
“I mean,” Bailey continued, over me, “is it Emma or is it Saylor? Because so far I’m hearing both, interchangeably. It’s super confusing.”
Everyone looked at me. So it wasn’t me that was annoying. Just my names. I said, “At home, I’ve always been Emma. Except if my mom was talking to me.”
“Which is why I keep calling you Saylor,” Mimi said softly. “Sorry. But she loved that name.”
I bit my lip, hearing this. It had been a long day indeed, if this was the thing that would make me cry.
“How about this,” Bailey said to me. “You think about it and let me know. Whatever you say, it sticks. Officially. Deal?”
I nodded. In time, maybe I’d figure this out.
“And give me your phone,” she added. “I’ll put in my number.”
