by Don Calame
We pass a fire station on the right and see a sign for Jasper Cove. Angela hangs a left and continues on for a bit before pulling into the beach parking lot.
We’re out of the car, our towels around our necks, our sneakers back on our feet, almost before Angela has a chance to shift into park.
“I’ll meet you back here at two,” Angela calls out her window. “On the dot. Or I’m leaving without you.”
“Two, okay, fine,” Coop says, giving a thumbs-up as we walk off.
When Angela’s car disappears, Coop stops. He pulls the map from the back pocket of his shorts and unfolds it. “Hold on a second.” He looks down and then points to what appears to be an entrance into the woods. “That’s it. The path to glory.”
We make our way over to the trail, checking to make sure no one spots us going in. As the three of us head into the woods, I get a jolt of excitement about what we might get to see.
“There’s the pond,” Coop says, pointing to a swampy bog up ahead. “We’re on the right track.”
Sean rubs his hands together. “This is going to be so sweet.”
“You do realize that we’re going to stand out like Shaquille O’Neal at a midgets convention?” I say.
“Nah, we’ll just shuck down and blend right in.” Sean hops over a small ditch. Coop and I follow.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “No one’ll notice the three naked, drooling high school kids.”
“Relax.” Coop holds up his towel. “Super Cooper’s got it covered. We won’t even have to set foot on the beach.” He unrolls his towel and removes a pair of binoculars. “We’ll just hide out at the edge of the woods and take in the show under the cover of trees.”
“Cool,” Sean says. “This is going to be the greatest day of our lives.”
We continue along the dirt trail. It’s an obstacle course of roots, plants, and downed trees. You can smell the ocean salt from here. A woodpecker does a drumroll on a tree somewhere nearby.
We’re about halfway to the beach when all of a sudden there’s a middle-aged couple in sweats coming from the other direction.
“Just act cazh,” Coop whispers.
When the couple reaches us, the guy with the sagging cheeks points at Coop’s hand. “This is no place for binoculars, young man.”
“It is if you’re bird-watching,” Coop says, waving the binoculars in the air. “We have to identify ten different species of birds for our summer school project before we can go home.”
The woman, whose hair is in a long dry ponytail, stretches her lips to the point where they drain of color. “Jasper Cove is an adults-only beach.”
“Why?” Sean asks innocently.
“It just is because it is,” the man says. “There are plenty of other places to bird-watch.”
Coop looks around. “I don’t know. We were told we’d be able to spot a masked booby around here. I don’t want to miss that opportunity.”
The middle-aged couple shake their heads and continue walking. We hear them mumble to each other as they go.
Coop cringes when they are out of earshot. “Glad we didn’t see them naked. She reminded me of my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Katin.”
“Yeah, and the guy looked like my uncle Doug,” Sean says, laughing.
“You think we’re gonna see any better at the beach?” I reach down and pick up a large stick and whack away some ferns.
“They can’t all be uggs,” Sean says.
Another five minutes down the trail and we can see light through the trees. We can hear the gentle lapping of the ocean.
“Keep ’em holstered, boys.” Coop starts to jog. “This may be more than your little minds can handle.”
We make it to the edge of the woods and crouch behind a large tree. In the distance, the beach is speckled with what looks like naked people. I can’t make out if they’re men or women or what. We might as well be standing at the top of the Empire State Building looking down at a group of tourists. This is not what I had in mind.
“Good thing I brought the specs,” Coop says. He lifts the binoculars to his eyes and scans the beach.
“What do you see?” Sean smacks Coop’s arm.
“Not a whole lot when you do that,” Coop says.
“Sorry.”
I squint hard, trying to force the vision of the nude people closer.
“It’s just a whole lot of big hairy dudes,” Coop says. “It’s like a Discovery Channel show on woolly mammoths.”
Sean scoots a little closer to Coop. “There have to be some babes. Give me the binoculars. Let me see.”
Coop ignores Sean and continues to pan the horizon. “Wait. Wait. Got one,” he says. “Come to Cooper, baby.” He rolls the focus wheel, smiling. “Oh yeah, there she —” Coop’s smile evaporates. “Oh no.” His voice is laced with alarm. “Oh, God, no.”
“What? What?” Sean taps Coop’s arm again.
Coop pulls the binoculars away from his eyes and blinks hard. “You don’t want to know.”
Sean tilts his head and gives Coop a look.
“I’m serious,” Coop says, looking stunned.
“Try me.”
Coop closes his eyes. “It’s Ms. Luntz. Jesus, I think I’m gonna puke.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Sean says.
“I’m not kidding.”
I rip the binoculars from Coop’s hands and take a look for myself. “Where? Where is she? I don’t see —” But as soon as I say this, I do see. Ms. Luntz stands on a towel and slowly slathers suntan oil all over her marshmallow-white naked body. She bends over to reach for her feet and I throw the binoculars away like they just scorched my eyes. “Oh, Christ. It is her. It’s Ms. Luntz.” I start laughing because it’s disgusting and ridiculous and horrific all at once.
“Let me see.” Sean snatches up the binoculars.
“Don’t do it, Sean.” Coop tries to grab the binoculars back, but Sean shrugs him off.
“Seriously, Sean. You don’t want to see.” I shut my eyes tight. “I’m telling you. The image will burn into your brain.”
But Sean is having none of it. He presses the binoculars to his eyes and points them in the direction we were looking. He uses the wheel to focus the lens and then —
Sean drops the binoculars and retches. “You bastards. Why didn’t you tell me it was so horrible?”
“We did tell you, idiot,” Coop says.
Sean scratches at his closed eyes. “Oh, God. It won’t go away. I want to poke out my mind’s eye.”
“I bet it never fades,” Coop says. “I bet when you finally get Tianna in the sack you won’t be able to think of anything else but Ms. Luntz.”
“Shut your piehole right now,” Sean demands. “I’m out of here. Before we see anymore Ms. Luntzes.” He stands, then scurries away.
Coop and me are up and on Sean’s heels. There’s no way we’re letting him off the hook that easy.
“You should have listened to us, Sean,” I say. “How are you ever going to forget Ms. Luntz’s superdroopers? They’ll be swaying in your mind for all eternity.”
“And all that pasty whiteness.” Coop scrunches up his whole face. “Damn!”
Sean plugs his ears and stomps ahead of us. “Shut up shut up shut up shut up!”
Coop and me catch up.
Coop taps Sean on the shoulder. Sean turns and glares.
“Slow down. We’ll stop, okay?” Coop says.
Sean unplugs his ears and sighs. “You promise?”
“I swear.” Coop holds up his right hand. “I’ll never mention Ms. Luntz’s complete and total bare-nakedness again. Or all that loose in her caboose. You can count on me. The words ‘Ms. Luntz’s well-oiled, slicked-up, lewd nude bod’ will never leave my lips.”
Coop and me laugh hysterically while Sean steams.
“You’re such a shit,” Sean says.
“I’m sorry. Really. I’ll stop.” Coop tries to catch his breath. “Seriously. I’m done.”
We walk alo
ng in silence for a moment.
“Ms. Luntz’s vagina,” Coop coughs through his fist.
I totally lose it, doubling over.
Sean stuffs his fingers back in his ears and storms ahead.
As we make our way out of the woods, Coop claps me on the shoulder. “Well, dawg. Mission accomplished.”
“Does that actually count?” I say.
“For sure.” Coop laughs. “She’s a woman. She was live. And she was naked. Done, done, and done.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And now, thanks to Ms. Luntz, we are one step closer to actually having sex.”
“No!” I cringe and shudder. “You did not just say that.”
Coop chuckles. “It’s the truth.”
“How could you even put those two things together?”
“Because it’s the natural progression of things, remember?”
I look at Coop like he’s lost his mind.
Coop cracks up. “Okay, so maybe we’re only a quarter-step closer.”
I shake my head. “You are totally and completely whacked.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stands up tall as we walk along, side by side.
I’M LYING ON THE WOODEN lounge chair in my backyard with my eyes closed. The late-afternoon sun feels good on my face. Grandpa’s just mowed the lawn, and the smell of warm fresh-cut grass fills the air. There are some kids playing Wiffle ball next door. I listen to their pretend play-by-play, the whoosh of the pitch, the thwack of the plastic bat connecting with the ball.
I have to say, it’s nice to just lie here. Everything’s been so nuts lately. And this morning’s beach adventure really wore me out. I feel a sleep wave pulling me under, and I might just let it.
I’m just drifting off when I hear the phone inside the house ring. I’ll let someone else get it. I shift and try to get comfortable again. But the ringing phone reminds me that I haven’t called Valerie back. She left a bunch of messages on my voice mail last night and this morning, wanting to know if I was okay. I’ve been putting off calling her because I’m not up to playing the whole appendix story over again.
Still, I don’t want her to worry.
I sit up, run my bare feet over the bristly blades of grass, and pull my cell phone from the front pocket of my shorts. Flipping it open, I scroll down and find Valerie’s number. I highlight it and press the CALL button.
“Who you calling?” It’s a girl’s voice behind me, along with a muffled ring tone.
I whirl around and blink into the sun. It’s Valerie. I can make her out even though she’s backlit and silhouetted.
“I’m calling you,” I say.
“Oh, okay.” Valerie opens her purse and takes out her ringing phone. She looks at the screen and her eyes light up. “It is you. What a coincidence.” She clicks a button and holds it up to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi. It’s me, Matt.”
“Hey, Matt. How you doing?” Valerie walks over and sits down next to me on the lounge chair. “I’ve been pretty worried about you. I was thinking maybe I should stop by.”
“Sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” I say into the phone. “I’m doing much better.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad. But maybe I should come over anyway. To see for myself.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Come on by. I’m here.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a second.” Valerie hangs up her phone and holds out her hands, palms up, like she’s just performed a magic trick. “Ta-da.”
“Wow, impressive.” I shut my phone and slip it back in my pocket.
“I know, I know.” Valerie takes a seated bow.
“How did you find out where I lived?”
“A woman has her ways.” Valerie places her fingers on her temples and closes her eyes like she’s using her psychic abilities.
“Now you’re scaring me.”
“It’s called White Pages dot com.” Valerie opens her eyes and smiles. “Lucky for me you happen to be the only Grattons in Lower Rockville.”
“You might want to drop the whole doctor thing and think about becoming a private detective.”
“Or I could be both. Valerie Devereaux, PI, MD.”
“That sounds like a television show.”
“Yeah. A really bad one.” Valerie laughs. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Everyone was saying you had to go to the hospital.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I did. The doctor thought it might be appendicitis.”
“Oh, no. Did they operate?”
“They were talking about it. But it turned out it wasn’t anything serious.”
“You’ve had some bad luck lately, mister.”
“Tell me about it.”
Valerie leans in close. “At least your head looks better.” She pushes my hair back and touches my forehead with her fingers. It sends a tingle down my spine. “It’s coming along nicely. That’s because I made you put ice on it immediately. Otherwise you might still have a lump.”
She’s wearing perfume. It smells like tangerine and the ocean. I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while, breathing her in. I have to stop myself from moving closer and pressing my nose into her neck. I lean back before the temptation gets too great.
“You’re going to be an awesome doctor,” I say. “Because you’re so nice. And you make house calls. I mean, who does that anymore?”
The corners of Valerie’s eyes crinkle with her smile. “That’s very sweet.” Valerie rummages around in her purse. “Speaking of sweet.” She takes out a pack of candy and holds it out to me. “Want a Jolly Rancher?”
“Sure.” I pry one of the foil-wrapped squares loose. “Thanks.”
Valerie holds up a blue candy. “Blue raspberry. What did you get?”
I look at the green square in my hand. “Green apple, I guess.”
“Do you like blue raspberry better?”
“Why? Do you like green apple better?”
“No,” Valerie says. “You’re not supposed to do that. I’m trying to figure out which one you want.”
“Oh. No. Green apple’s good.” I don’t really like green apple, so I’m assuming she doesn’t, either.
“Phew.” Valerie pops her blue raspberry candy in her mouth. “I would have traded with you, but I don’t really like green apple.”
I put the Jolly Rancher in my mouth. It’s pretty tart. Really tart, actually. Much more than I remembered. My mouth feels like it wants to curl up inside itself.
“You don’t like it, either.” Valerie cracks up. “I can tell.”
“Really? I thought I had a pretty good poker face.”
“You look like someone squirted you in the eyes with a lemon. You should have said something. Spit it out and take a different one.”
“Nah. This is good. Really. Once you get past the shock of how sour it tastes, it’s not so bad.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Tasting our candies.
“So, did you hear about Tony and Mandy Reagan?” Valerie says.
“Hear what?” My heart skips a beat because I know what’s coming.
“Someone posted a picture of them on Facebook. It’s pretty compromising. Everyone’s saying it’s from Ronnie Hull’s party.”
“Huh,” I say. “Has Kelly seen it?”
“Oh, yeah. She went ballistic. I don’t know why she even cares anymore. Tony was all apologetic and saying that it wasn’t him in the picture, but it’s pretty obvious if you ask me.”
“Do you think they’ll ever get back together?” I hope this is subtle enough, but maybe not, because Valerie’s kind of looking at me funny.
She shrugs. “Who knows? It’s like a bad habit with her. But honestly? I’m a little sick of it. Kelly’s always going on and on about him. It’s like the only thing we ever talk about.”
“Yeah,” I say because I can’t think of anything else.
“So, what really happened between you and Tony at that party? I never got the whole story.”
There it is. The que
stion I don’t want to answer. And suddenly, instead of a devil and an angel, it’s like I’ve got Coop’s dad whispering in one ear and Grandpa Arlo whispering in the other. Coop’s dad wants me to lie like crazy. “She won’t understand,” he says. “It’s beyond her female comprehension. She’ll be disgusted and run right to Kelly and blab the whole thing.”
At the same time, Grandpa Arlo reminds me that women are all-knowing and to think otherwise is foolhardy. “She probably knows already,” he says.
Which I hadn’t thought about. What if she does know? What if it’s like what happened with Mrs. Hoogenboom and the kitten? Maybe Valerie’s just testing me.
I’m weighing my options, back and forth, when Valerie clears her throat. “Matt? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I say, feeling the candy getting thick and sticky on my drying tongue.
“Your eyes, like, glazed over. Are you sure you’re feeling better?”
“It’s not that.” I take a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I’ll tell you what happened at the party, but you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else, okay? Because it’s pretty embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than chess club?”
“Uh, yeah. Just a little.”
Valerie nods. “Okay, I promise.” And I can tell by the way she says it, the way her sapphire eyes look at me, that she means it.
“It’s kind of ridiculous, really. Okay, so. The thing is. That picture of Tony and Mandy. It is from Ronnie’s party. I know, because Coop took it.”
“What?” Valerie has a surprised smile on her face.
“It’s a long story, but . . . me and Coop and Sean sort of have this tradition, right? Every summer we’ve set ourselves a goal. Ever since we were, like, eight. Stupid things. Like trying to collect a hundred frogs, or building a clubhouse out of old boxes, or playing a thousand Ping-Pong games.”
“That sounds like fun,” Valerie says.
“Yeah, well. This summer it got kinda out of hand. We decided that — well, Coop actually decided — that our goal would be to try and see . . . a naked girl. In person.”
