Now Maya slipped into a questionable parking spot that may
or may not get their tires stuck in the sand and they piled out.
It had been a long time since Blue had been to the beach.
The sun was sharp and white above the cliffs, the ocean tip-
ping and shuffling to the shore, and people were scattered on towels beneath lollipop-colored umbrellas, surf boards lined
up like fence posts against the dunes, the smells of coconut oil and salt water and sunshine baked into the air.
“It looks exactly the same!” Maya said as they stopped at
the threshold of sand, taking it in.
To Blue, Ditch Plains seemed more crowded, a little hipper, no longer a place for old-school surf bums but for wealthy city moms with sand strollers, expensive SUVs in the parking lot,
models preening in tiny bikinis. Wealth had taken over, had
chipped away a little bit of its soul. Or maybe it was just time that did that, altered the chemistry of things, took away pieces and added others. Still she understood what Maya meant. The
bones of the place were the same. It still felt lazy, a beach that had no interest in competing with the more elegant beaches
of the Hamptons—a B-personality beach. And maybe there
was comfort in that, in the way that some changes rarely went all the way to the bones.
“Let’s sit by the lifeguards,” Maya said.
Blue shot her a look.
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 220
8/23/19 9:03 AM
EAST COAST GIRLS
221
“What? For safety reasons, I mean.”
Blue plopped down where they stood and Maya sighed and
joined her.
A toddler ran past, kicking sand as he waved his small green
shovel back and forth.
“Why do people have children?” Maya asked. “So much
work. So much drool.”
Blue didn’t know either. Sometimes she wondered if want-
ing to be a mother required actually having had a mother.
Renee sat down next to them, wrapped her arms around
her knees. “I bet you guys’ll want them eventually.”
It was always so annoying when people said that. Like some-
how they knew you better than you knew yourself. Blue never
wanted kids. She’d screw them up rightly.
“Who was it that used to say they wanted to adopt high
schoolers?” Renee asked. “Hannah?”
“Blue,” Maya said. “But only so she’d have someone to pick
up her dry cleaning.”
“Ha!” Renee said. She turned to Blue. “Does Jack want
kids?”
Blue tensed. With all the drama that went down last night,
she had completely forgotten about her lie.
“Jack?” Maya said. “How would Blue know something
like that?”
Shit.
Blue jumped to her feet. “Not everyone wants kids, you
know. And it’s kind of sexist to assume Maya and I don’t know how we feel about it.” To Maya she said, “I’m going down to
the water.” She marched down to the shore, making a show
of it, hoping her feminist outburst would distract Maya from
pursuing her question. Stupid Renee. Why did she always have to East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 221
8/23/19 9:03 AM
222
KERRY KLETTER
remember everything? If Renee mentioned it to Maya, she’d need an out. She couldn’t very well fake going on a date, could she?
If it came to that, she could say she was sick. That it was just so disappointing, but she couldn’t possibly go out on a date
with a stomach flu. She’d have to fake vomiting, but what-
ever, she was an old pro at that from all the times she tried to get out of going to school. Renee had inadvertently set the
whole story up. She was good for something after all.
How sad though. That she had to cover one lie with an-
other. How pathetic.
She stepped into the water, let the shock of it jolt her out of her self-pity. It had been a while since the Atlantic had rolled cold and welcoming over her feet. The tide was rising, gathering higher and higher around her ankles, the fortepiano
of waves crashing and retreating sounded like cars swishing
through rain. This was where she’d first met Jack.
She closed her eyes, breathed in the salt air. For a moment
she imagined him coming up behind her, turning to see in his
face that same expression—the look of a man who found her
attractive. And oh, that look. It could hold you like a parent, make you feel as wanted as a newborn. She’d never known it
before she met him, how aligned those pathways were in the
brain. She knew only that whatever she’d experienced was
a thing she’d been missing her whole life without knowing
it. For years after, she’d forgotten what it felt like, her heart in hibernation until she’d nearly convinced herself that love didn’t matter, not really. But she could see now that it did.
That it always had.
If only she knew how to get it. If only she were capable.
She pushed away the thought, went back to the towels.
Maya lowered her sunglasses, eyed her warily, then returned
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 222
8/23/19 9:03 AM
EAST COAST GIRLS
223
to her gossip magazine. Blue relaxed. Clearly Renee hadn’t mentioned anything about her having a date. Otherwise Maya
would be harassing her for details. She went to grab a water
from the cooler and, finding none, glanced up at Maya. “Wine
coolers and beer? Really?”
“I picked them up on the way back from the train station.
You’re welcome.”
“It’s barely eleven.”
“And…?”
Blue sighed. “I’m gonna get some water at the Ditch Witch.”
“Ooh, I want a treat,” Maya said, jumping up.
“I’ll come too,” Renee said.
Oh yay, Blue thought with an inward eye roll.
The food truck was a staple of Ditch Plains Beach. When
Blue was younger, she believed that running the Ditch Witch
would be the ideal job. Days spent overlooking the bucking
sea, the air sweet with suntan lotion and hot dogs, happy wet-haired kids shoving their parents’ crumpled dollars over the
counter, hungry surfers stopping to chat her up about some
tropical storm that would bring waves their way.
It made her wistful to think about how logical such work
had once seemed, when money meant little and she dreamed
only of being happy, of extending the easy pace of childhood
indefinitely.
They waited at the end of a long line of sun-mellowed surf-
ers and packs of kids and overburdened mothers. Maybe her
dream hadn’t been so impractical after all—this place must
really make a killing. Maya moved closer to read the menu
scrawled on an old surf board.
“You’re paying, since you skipped out on dinner last night,”
she called to Maya.
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 223
8/23/19 9:03 AM
224
KERRY KLETTER
“You should’ve told me before we left!” Maya said. “Who
brings their wallet to the beach?”
“Clearly you assumed someone did,” Blue said dryly.
“Hey,” Renee said, “Isn’t that…”
Blue followed Renee’s gaze to a guy tying an old-school
wooden longboard to the rack of a classic VW van. He was
shaggy haired from the sea, a little round about the middle
but nicely built…
For a moment Blue could only stare, her heart racing. “No,”
she said, turning away. “It’s not.” And it probably wasn’t.
Likely it was just someone who resembled him. Although it
was a small town. And Ditch Plains his favorite beach. And the waves were up. So. It wouldn’t be totally improbable…
Blue didn’t want to peek again to find out.
She did and she didn’t.
“I think it is him.” Renee cupped her hands, “Jack! Jaaack!”
“Oh my God, shut up!” Blue hissed.
As if in slow motion, he turned.
Oh God.
“I knew it!” Renee said, waving him over. “I never for-
get a face.”
Blue grabbed her arm. “Stop!”
“What? Why?”
“Because I… I don’t want him to see me like this.”
Too late. Jack stepped down from his truck and headed to-
ward them.
Renee grimaced. “Sorry.” She wiped a spot of sunscreen
from Blue’s cheek. “You look great. Don’t worry.”
Blue was detaching from her body. The noise around her
fading into the background, the sun a cruel spotlight. Forget how she looked. Which was hideous, but still. What if Renee
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 224
8/23/19 9:03 AM
EAST COAST GIRLS
225
mentioned the date? If only a sinkhole would open up beneath
her. Or a tsunami would strike. Either one.
She considered her options. Or tried to. But her mind sput-
tered and stalled.
Jack squinted as he neared. A small thrill briefly disrupted
her horror. Jack, her Jack! Right here, in front of her! And
from what she could tell, the years had been kind to him.
But no, this was not good. Very, very bad. She pulled her
hat lower.
“Blue?” he said. “No way!”
“Hey there,” she managed. Her voice sounded dumb and
weirdly pitched. Her brain kept looping it, beating her with it.
“Wow.” He shook his head. “I almost didn’t recognize you
in the…” He gestured at her hat and sunglasses, and she was so acutely, unbearably self-conscious, shriveling under his gaze.
They exchanged a clumsy hug, followed by an awkward
pause. She could feel Renee looking at her strangely. Surely
she was catching on that something was amiss. Blue’s tongue
seemed to be swelling, blocking words from exiting her
mouth.
Renee stepped forward. “Good to see you, Jack. It’s Renee,
in case you forgot.”
“Right, Renee!” Jack said. “I remember. Great to see you
too.”
He wore faded board shorts and scruff on his chin—a good
sign, Blue noted peripherally; she hated vanity in men. And
maybe it meant there was no girl in the picture.
“Blue,” Maya called obliviously from the front of the line.
“I need your credit card.”
Blue chucked her wallet without looking, heard a kid go
“ouch.”
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 225
8/23/19 9:03 AM
226
KERRY KLETTER
“We were literally just talking about you,” Renee was say-
ing.
Oh, no.
“You were?” He looked at Blue.
“Uh…yep,” Blue scrambled. “We were reminiscing about…
um, summers. All the summers. Good times and whatnot.”
Renee frowned. “No, we—” She stopped herself when she
saw the look on Blue’s face.
Jack blinked.
Blue was dissolving into the pavement. “I can’t believe the
Ditch Witch is still here!” she said quickly. “Who knew food
trucks would become all the rage?”
A kid with a boogie board ran between them. Blue and Jack
smiled shyly at each other as they dodged him. Renee kept
looking between them with a puzzled expression.
Maya returned with three ice cream bars and a tray of sodas.
“Oh, hello there, handsome.”
Jack laughed.
Renee nudged her.
Maya did a double take. “Wait. Is that… Jack?”
“Hey there,” he said.
Maya glanced gleefully back and forth between Jack and
Blue.
Blue shot her a murderous look.
Maya handed her an ice cream, cheerfully bit into her own.
“This is so great! The two of you after all these years.”
“We really should get back to our towels,” Blue said.
“What? Why?” Maya said. “Unless you want to come sit
with us, Jack? I have booze in the cooler.”
“I’d love to,” he said, running a hand through his drying
hair, “but I actually gotta head to work.”
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 226
8/23/19 9:03 AM
EAST COAST GIRLS
227
“Oh, totally,” Blue said, trying not to sound relieved. “Of
course. Well, have fun.”
“Work, shmirk,” Maya said. “Maybe we’ll see you later?”
“We won’t,” Renee said. “But Blue will, right?”
Blue froze. Horror zoomed in, circled her in a panoramic
close-up. A buzzing sound in her head, like she’d poked a
nest of bees.
Jack raised his eyebrows, glanced between them.
“I’m confused,” Maya said.
Renee looked at Blue, who was going to die on the spot.
She was sure of it. She hoped for it. The sun beat down relentlessly, melting her ice cream bar in her hand. Say something, she thought. But what could she say?
“Oh, wait! You mean at Surf Lodge?” Jack said finally.
“You’re going?”
“No,” Blue said, then looked at Renee. “I mean, uh—”
Everything happened in that quick glance, the wordless
language of lifelong friends resurrected. Blue confessed she’d lied, conveyed her humiliation. Renee absorbed the information, made a quick decision.
“Yes,” Renee jumped in, coming to her rescue. Just like she
would have when they were younger. “She is going. You’ll
be there, right, Jack?”
“Wait, why is only Blue going? I want to go to Surf Lodge,”
Maya said, still oblivious to all of it.
Renee elbowed her.
“Ow!” Maya said. “Why do you keep hitting me?”
“Definitely,” Jack said. “You guys should all come. It’s reg-
gae night. Super fun. Everyone goes.” He stole a look at Blue.
She could tell he was trying to see past her hat and sun-
glasses, and she was grateful for how much they hid.
East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 227
8/23/19 9:03 AM
228
KERRY KLETTER
“Well, I’m heading back to Connecticut and Maya has…
uh…a thing to do,” Renee said. “But you’ll look out for Blue
for us, right?”
“Of course,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “I gotta run.
But, hey, great to see you guys, and I’ll see you later, Blue.”
“Not if I see you first,” Blue said, then wanted to throw
herself over a cliff.
He started back toward his car and Blue turned back to
the
beach. She was having so many feelings at once, her thoughts
speeding and colliding, becoming a high white noise. She
was at once humiliated about the lie she’d told Renee and re-
lieved that Renee hadn’t exposed her. She had to reluctantly
admit that was really nice of her. And somehow Renee had
even managed to get her, if not a date, then at least a chance.
And Blue wanted this. To see him tonight. It was more than
she could’ve hoped. And she did not want this at all. For him to see her.
“I still don’t understand what ‘thing’ I have to do or why
Blue gets to go and we don’t,” Maya complained.
“You’re not joining them on their date, silly,” Renee said.
“I’m going home and you’re staying at the house.”
“Whose date?” Maya said. “Blue and Jack have a date?”
Renee shot Blue a knowing look. “They do now.”
“It’s not really,” Blue said. “You can totally come, Maya.”
Renee frowned. “But don’t you want to be alone with
him?”
“Oh, right,” Maya said. “Wacka wacka.”
Blue rolled her eyes but inwardly felt an awful slither. She
was already exposed and full of shame and now Maya had to
throw sex into the equation. Just the thought of it made her
mind unhook from her body, hover above it. Her friends didn’t East Coast_9780778309499_TS_txt_277098.indd 228
8/23/19 9:03 AM
EAST COAST GIRLS
229
know she’d never done it. They just assumed she had. Because
everybody had sex—it was, at some level, the main function
of existence. Only a freak wouldn’t want it or be able to get it.
Society let her know that every single day. So what if women
had been conditioned their whole lives to equate sex with vi-
olence—from bra snaps in middle school, to keys turned into
weapons against rape, to an endless stream of TV shows and
movies about women being victimized, tortured, murdered
by men. You were still supposed to want sex and do it and
not be afraid. And if you didn’t, you were a sad, desperate old maid and you should hate yourself. It was so messed up, and
still Blue felt the shame of it, the stigma. And also the longing.
To want to want it. And now it was too late. She didn’t know
East Coast Girls (ARC) Page 22
