Local Girls

by Jenny O'Connell

  “Look at this!” She’d held out the register tape and let the paper uncurl until it reached the floor. “Can you believe it?”

  Actually, I couldn’t. “That’s great, Lex.”

  “Great? It’s amazing.” Bart came up behind Lexi and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Your sister is brilliant.”

  Not the word I would have chosen, but then again I wasn’t the one tossing register tape over her head like she was leading a parade around our house.

  “Are you going to watch the fireworks tonight?” I asked Shelby.

  “Please,” she snorted.

  Nobody but tourists watched the fireworks off the harbor, I knew that. But what was the Fourth of July without a few fireworks? Or at least some sparklers.

  Wendy poked her head inside the kitchen door and I was afraid she’d tell us she had a last-minute order. Instead, she had a message for me. “Hey, Kendra, there’s someone here to see you.”

  I followed Wendy out to the front desk, where a group of guests were gathered in a makeshift line as they waited for help booking their fishing charter or a biplane ride around the island. I didn’t recognize anyone in particular, except from breakfast, and I doubted any of the guests had requested my presence because I was such a fabulous server. I was about to ask Wendy who asked to see me when someone stepped out from behind the line and smiled at me.

  Even without trying, I smiled back and waved him into the parlor, where we wouldn’t be fighting to be heard over guests asking directions to Aquinnah.

  “Hey, Kendra.” Henry looked around the parlor, taking in the pot of geraniums Wendy had placed in the fireplace, and then stepping over to the French doors and checking out the side yard. It reminded me of that afternoon in Mona’s room, how she’d walked over to her deck and stood there, her back to me. Only this time Henry faced me. “I’ve never been inside this place before. It’s nice.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was wondering if you had any plans tonight. My mom and Malcolm are having some people over for a barbecue. I think Malcolm got some fireworks he’s going to shoot off or something. Totally illegal, of course.”

  He must have known what I was about to say, because before I could even get the first word out he added, “Mona won’t be there, she’s got plans with her friends.”

  Henry was probably trying to make me feel better, but instead a part of me felt worse. Mona and I always spent Fourth of July together.

  “I don’t know, I probably won’t be getting out of here until pretty late, we’re really busy.” I nodded toward the line of guests waiting at the front desk, just in case he thought I was making up an excuse.

  “Well, I thought maybe you could use a break after today’s madness, so if you feel like it let me know. I can always come by and pick you up.” Henry reached for one of the complimentary Willow Inn postcards sitting in a stack on the side table and took a pen from the Mason jar beside them. “Here’s my cell number. Call me if you change your mind.”

  He handed me the postcard and I folded it up and slipped it into my pocket, realizing that I’d never had to call Henry before, he’d always just been there when I needed him. “Okay, thanks.”

  “I’ll let you get back to work. Those people look hungry.”

  Henry walked out of the parlor, past the line of guests at the front desk, and then turned to wave to me before pushing open the screen door and disappearing down the porch steps.

  When I returned to the kitchen Shelby looked up from the red onions on the chopping board, her eyes a little teary. “Who was that?” she asked.

  I was about to answer when I realized I didn’t really know what to tell her. A few weeks ago I would have said he was my best friend’s brother, but that didn’t seem to describe him anymore. I knew more about Henry these days than I did Mona, and he knew more about me. “A friend,” I answered.

  Shelby stopped slicing. “A friend? He’s pretty cute for a friend. Are you sure that’s all he is?”

  I swear that girl had eyes everywhere; now she even knew what went on in the parlor.“I’ve known him forever.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “He’s Mona’s brother.”

  “Ah,” she exhaled, and went back to slicing the onion. “I see.”

  “What’s that mean?” I asked, handing her a baguette of French bread for the turkey sandwich she was preparing.

  “I mean he’s your best friend’s brother.”

  “So?”

  “What are you jumping all over me for? I’m not the one who said he was just a friend.”

  “Why, do you think it would be wrong if he was something else?”

  “Like what, Kendra?” Shelby tried not to smile, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “What if he was your milkman? Your insurance agent? Your piano teacher?”

  “I don’t play the piano.”

  Shelby laughed. “Look, if you like this guy, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “He asked me if I wanted to do something tonight.”

  “So tell him you want to.”

  “You think so?”

  “What I think is that you should finish packing those cookies so we can get these baskets finished. As far as your plans tonight, I don’t really care what you do.”

  I reached into my purse, grabbed my cell phone, and dialed. After two rings a voice answered, and despite myself, I felt my heart jump . “Hey, it’s Kendra. Feel like picking me up at the inn around six?”

  It wasn’t until I was sitting on the porch steps waiting for Henry that I realized what I’d done, or, more accurately, what I hadn’t done. Most notably, changed my clothes.

  “Waiting for your date?” Shelby came out onto the porch and sat down next to me.

  “It’s not a date. And now I wish I hadn’t called him. Look at me.” I pointed to my shirt. “How can I go over to his house for a barbecue dressed like this?”

  Shelby tried to scratch a brown spot off my sleeve. “What is that?”

  “A chocolate chip?” I guessed, even though I had no idea how I could have gotten a chocolate chip on my sleeve.

  “Wait here,” Shelby instructed, then stood up and went back inside the inn. Maybe she knew where Wendy kept a spare Tide stick or something to get out the stain. Not that it would make much of a difference. I’d still look like the hired help.

  Five minutes later Shelby returned, only she wasn’t carrying a Tide stick.

  “Here.” She handed me a wicker basket. “Skip the barbecue. Have a picnic on the beach instead.”

  Before I had a chance to say thanks, Henry pulled up to the curb in Poppy’s truck.

  “Go,” Shelby ordered. “And try to keep the chocolate chips off your clothes.”

  I grabbed the basket’s handle and ran to meet Henry.

  Henry didn’t think twice about skipping the barbecue. In fact, from his agreement, I think he preferred the picnic. But as we drove toward South Beach I couldn’t help but look to my left across the airfield at Malcolm’s house and wonder what was going on there, think about the fabulous barbecued ribs and roasted corn on the cob Zilda had been preparing all day.

  “This was a great idea.” Henry took a bite of his cookie. “And this is about the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve ever had.”

  “It’s my friend Shelby,” I told him. “She’s a great cook.”

  “Well, give my compliments to the chef.” Henry lay back and rested his head on his rolled-up sweatshirt. “You know, this is my favorite time of the day for the beach.”

  I lay down next to him and he moved his head over so I could share the sweatshirt.

  We were the only people on our stretch of beach, but farther down, toward the lifeguard stand, we could hear a family laughing as the mom and dad tried to help their little boy fly his kite. Henry and I watched as the father ran beside the boy, trying to get up enough speed to set the kite aloft. Finally, after a few tries, the rainbow-colored kite sailed into the air, taking o
ff on the breeze. The boy stood there clutching the reel of string, staring up at the flapping tail as it moved farther and farther away. He couldn’t have been more than six years old, but he managed to plant his feet firmly in the sand so that even as the wind attempted to wrestle the kite from his grasp, he held on tightly. And the more still he stood, the higher the kite soared, as if his being at the end of the string allowed it to venture even farther away.

  “That’s really up there,” Henry commented. “He’s a strong little kid.”

  “Think we’ll be able to see any fireworks?” I asked.

  “Maybe. We’ll know as soon as it gets a little darker.”

  Long after the kite came down and the family left us alone on the beach, Henry and I continued lying together, our heads sharing the rolled-up pillow, watching as the sky slowly changed color and small flickers of light fought their way through the darkness.

  “I wish I’d paid attention when they were teaching us about constellations and planets and stuff,” I told Henry. “All I see are a spattering of stars.”

  “Did you see that?” Henry grabbed my arm. “A shooting star.”

  “I saw it.”

  “See, who needs to know the constellations? All you need to know is the difference between a shooting star and a 747.”

  Mona always wished for the same thing every time we spotted a shooting star. She never told me her wish, though. We both knew the rules. You tell someone your wish and it won’t come true. My wishes, on the other hand, varied. Sometimes I’d close my eyes and wish I’d win the lottery, that was the big one. Although, considering I was under eighteen and nobody would even sell me a ticket, the chances of that happening were pretty slim. There were other smaller wishes, like getting an A on a science test or getting to go to Boston to see the circus. They got progressively more interesting and less attainable the older we got. But Mona’s, I knew, was always the same.

  “What’d you wish for?” Henry wanted to know.

  “I haven’t made one yet, hold on.” I closed my eyes and thought about what I wanted more than anything at that very moment. And it wasn’t a winning lottery ticket or a trip to Boston. It was something way closer to home, and, at that moment, way more attainable.

  When I was done, I opened my eyes and looked right up at Henry, who’d rolled onto his side to face me.

  “So?” His body was right next to mine, our heads so close, a piece of my hair brushed against his cheek.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Come on, you don’t believe that, do you?”

  “What did you wish for?” I asked him, not pulling away. Instead I stayed there, looking up at Henry and the spattering of stars glimmering in the background.

  “I can’t tell you now.” Henry reached over me and I thought he was going to push aside my hair, but instead he brushed his hand against my cheek. “You have some crumbs on your face, not that you don’t look good in crumbs.”

  I smiled, wishing he’d touch my skin again. But before I could say thanks, or return the compliment, Henry leaned in to kiss me, his body pressing against mine, and this time I didn’t stop myself. I shifted my body toward him and rested my hand on his waist, pulling him closer. And as our lips parted and our tongues mingled together, all I could think about was how right it felt, how this was so much better than any of the wishes I’d made in the past.

  Finally, I turned my head away, catching my breath. “God, Henry.”

  He took my face in his hands and turned me to look at him. Henry was a little short of breath himself. “What?”

  “You know what. Mona? What would she say about this?”

  Henry grinned at me. “Do we really have to tell her?”

  But before I could answer Henry leaned in again, and the last thing I saw before closing my eyes was a brilliant burst of fireworks lighting up the night sky.

  Chapter 17

  Me. And Henry. Me and Henry, Kendra and Henry. Me and Mona’s brother.

  It didn’t seem possible that last night I was kissing Mona’s brother. It seemed entirely possible, even completely natural, that I was kissing Henry, the guy I couldn’t wait to see every morning at the store, the person I sat with in silence those early mornings at Seth’s Pond. They’d become two different people to me, the guy I knew as Mona’s brother and the Henry I was with last night. The problem was, they weren’t.

  I’d hit my snooze button twice, and even though it was a Saturday morning and July Fourth weekend, when the music burst out of my alarm clock for the third time, I reached over and hit the snooze button again.

  For once my procrastination had nothing to do with wanting a few more minutes in bed. Henry had dropped me off at my house around midnight, and although I thought I’d have trouble falling asleep (because that’s what nagging guilt is supposed to do to you, right?), I was unconscious as soon as my head hit the pillow. But this morning was another story. At 4:38 I’d looked over at the clock to see what time it was, just like I did every other morning. Only instead of wondering how much longer I had to sleep, I wondered what the hell I’d done.

  And now, two hours later, I was still wondering. Falling for a summer guy was one thing. I certainly wasn’t the first girl to do that. Every year when school started there was always someone who carried around a picture of herself and the guy she’d met over the summer, a girl wearing a shell bracelet or some other piece of summer memorabilia that was supposed to remind her that the guy she’d met would e-mail her during the school year, that nothing would change. But it always did. By Christmas the picture was taken down from the locker, the token of affection removed, and the summer guy who’d promised to write and call faded into the distance like every other summer memory.

  But I didn’t just fall for a summer guy. I fell for Mona’s brother. I fell for Malcolm Keener’s stepson. I fell for the last person on earth I ever thought I would.

  If things had been normal with me and Mona there might have been a chance, slight and delusional as it was, that she’d understand. I mean, she thought Henry was a great guy, why wouldn’t I? Maybe she’d even be happy for us. For me.

  But even I knew that was not going to happen. Probably because I was her best friend and I was expected to know that Mona and Henry had a special relationship unlike anything regular brothers and sisters with two regular parents shared. It’s one of the reasons Mona liked the fact that Henry had never had a girlfriend; it meant she didn’t have to share him with anyone else. And after the things I said to her that day at her house, she certainly wouldn’t suddenly decide it was okay to share him with me.

  The whole bus ride to work I leaned my head against the window, hoping the cool glass would provide me with some sort of answer, or at least numb my brain. Because if every other morning was any sort of indicator, Shelby would forget something for her breakfast recipe, and I’d be seeing Henry.

  “Confectioners’ sugar,” Shelby announced, and I actually hesitated before walking over to the cookie jar and removing the petty cash. Maybe she was just clearing her throat and reciting the names of sweet powdery toppings.

  “Did you hear me?” she repeated. “I’m out of confectioners’ sugar.”

  “I heard you.” My fingers untied the apron string around my waist and I headed to the store.

  With every step toward Stop & Shop I prepared myself for the worst. Maybe without the stars and fireworks I’d look at him and feel some lukewarm version of what I felt last night. Or, God, this was even worse, what if he looked at me and decided he’d made a huge mistake?

  I rehearsed what I’d say when I saw him. “Henry, it was a bad idea. I can’t date my best friend’s brother.” And he’d look at me and agree, because we were both rational people who knew right from wrong. Then we’d go find the confectioners’ sugar.

  As I approached the parking lot, there he was, leaning up against the brick wall beside the front door, waiting for me. And despite myself, despite the fact that I wanted to appear normal, to look like I was
the same Kendra he waited for every other morning, I swear my heart jumped in my chest and there was no way I could act like this was every other morning. Because the way I felt walking toward Henry was anything but rational. And entirely wrong.

  “Tired?” he asked when I reached him.

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “Me, too.” Henry grinned at me and I just wanted to close my eyes and be back on the beach with him. “But it was worth it.”

  It should have been awkward. I was prepared for that. I was not prepared for things to be exactly like they were, only better. Now when we searched the baking aisle shelves, I almost hoped we couldn’t find what we were looking for so we’d have more time together. When he waited for me to pay at the cashier, he didn’t read the newspapers, he watched me and smiled and I didn’t even try to stop myself from smiling back.

  “I was thinking about what you said last night,” Henry told me as we walked to the truck, my hand in his. “I’m just going to tell Mona.”

  I pulled my hand away and stopped walking. “You can’t do that,” I told him.

  “Why not?” Henry stopped walking, too. “She’s going to find out.”

  Normally I’d agree with him. But this summer was anything but normal. I hadn’t seen Mona since I saw her standing in front of the candy store in town that day, and even then, she hadn’t noticed me watching her. If Henry told her about us, I couldn’t even imagine what she’d think, but I knew it couldn’t be good. She couldn’t know, not yet. Not until I figured out a way to make things the way they were between us. At least then I would have a shot at making her understand.

  “Not yet,” I told Henry. “Can’t we just wait, a little while at least? I barely see Mona as it is, it’s not like we’re going to run into her while we’re fishing or anything. Besides, if anyone should tell her, it should be me.”

  Henry started walking again and I followed.

  “Don’t you feel the slightest bit guilty?” I asked him, approaching the passenger side of the truck but not getting in.