Picture Perfect (14 page)

Mr. Flanagan was inside watching a baseball game, and he and Spencer came over to res
cue me, pulling me in by taking hold of my legs.

I didn’t want to stick around and get teased. I didn’t want to talk about it, period. I just took the muscle-relaxant foot cream Mrs. Flanagan gave me and traipsed upstairs to my room, feeling hopeless.

I’d tried—more than tried—all day. If he couldn’t tell what I was trying to do and say, and if I could never manage to say anything meaningful, then I was never going to be able to communicate it to him. He didn’t seem to be dying to say anything to
me
, so maybe he didn’t feel the same way. But Heather thought he was into me…Was he?

I’d have to rent one of those planes that flew over the beaches, pulling advertising signs behind them. I could manage to get him onto the deck at a certain time, spell it out for him:
SPENCER
,
YOU IDIOT
.
CAN'T YOU TELL THAT I LIKE YOU
?

That would be too long.

SPENCER
.
U R THE
1.

No, too stupid.

How about:
SPENCER
,
I'VE BEEN TRYING TO
TELL YOU SOMETHING
,
BUT BEFORE I DO, COULD YOU TELL ME SOMETHING FIRST, BECAUSE THEN I WON'T STRESS SO MUCH
?
DEAL
?

But what if he didn’t want to tell me anything?

“H
ow much longer do we have to wait?”

My dad checked his watch and peered at the ferry schedule clutched in his hand. “Half an hour? They run every half hour, and I think we’ll fit on the next one, don’t you?”

“Hard to say, since we didn’t fit on the last two,” Adam complained. He was in charge of his twin brothers for the day while his parents enjoyed a day on their own, and he’d been having a hard time keeping them entertained while we waited for the ferry. The thing they found most entertaining was running around the van, then around the Rustbucket (we’d driven two cars so we could split up, if need be), then running to the water’s edge and looking like they
were about to dive in, and then knocking on other people’s car windows. Adam more than had his hands full looking after them, and we’d all been helping out, rescuing them from various disasters in the making.

Our two cars were now only third and fourth in our line, but there were several lines that waited beside us to board the ferry. We’d definitely moved up to the front, but I wasn’t sure we were close enough to catch the next boat to Ocracoke Island. Each ferry was only big enough for thirty cars. We’d been warned by my mom to leave early in the morning, but we hadn’t—and now we were stuck waiting with the crowd. The ferry took about forty minutes according to my mom’s travel book—and it was free, which might have explained why so many people were making the trip.

I thought about how much things had changed since the day I’d run into Blake in the supermarket and he’d told me he was coming to see the island. We’d shared a kiss by the canned peach pyramids. What might have happened if I’d ditched my mom and told Blake I was com
ing along? That I’d rather fiesta with him than cook a fiesta meal with my mom?

I’d probably be disinherited by now, but maybe things would have worked out with Blake.

No, probably not,
I thought. We’d have gotten to the ferry, and then I’d have found out that the red-haired girl was meeting Blake on the island. And I’d have been stranded here on the street, which would have been much worse than being dissed in the middle of a loud club. Even if the music sucked.

Spencer tapped my shoulder. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I was actually thinking something really bad.”

“Huh.” He didn’t inquire about the details, which was just as well. “I’m thinking of something bad, too. Like the fact the day is already half over. Do you think the long wait for the ferry is really worth it? We could kayak there faster.”

“Did you
bring
the kayak?” I asked.

“Spence, it’s worth the wait,” Spencer’s dad
assured us. “Don’t you want to get out on the water?”

“And see where Blackbeard met his fate?” my dad added.

“Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum,” Heather said. She glanced at her watch. “Are we ever going to get there?”

I sighed. “I’m going to get a pop over there in the visitor center—anyone else want one?”

“I’ll come with,” Heather said, and we headed for the vending machines inside the building. “Why didn’t your mom come? She’s always got the cooler full of drinks for us. I was counting on her.” She fed two dollar bills into the pop machine.

“She said she wasn’t feeling all that well.” I shrugged. “What about your mom?”

“She just wanted some time by herself to read and reflect, she said. Personally, I think they’re hitting a day spa together,” Heather said. “Your mom’s the tourist extraordinaire. Why would she miss an item on her list?”

“I know, it’s strange,” I said. “Maybe she just felt like staying home and making a new
list. We’ve got all next week to fill up with tours and events, remember?”

“We do, that’s true.” We walked over and stood by the door, looking outside, enjoying the cool air-conditioning. “So. You didn’t tell him yet, did you?” Heather asked.

“Not exactly,” I replied.
Not this year,
I thought, wondering if I should finally tell Heather how this had gone for me the last time I had attempted it. Badly.

“When are you going to do it?” she pressed.

“I saw you last night! Do you really think I had time between now and then?” I asked her, laughing.

“At least twelve hours,” she said. “And it’s only going to take you like five minutes. What are you waiting for? Look at him over there. He’s pacing around waiting for you to get back.”

“Is he? I think he’s just impatient for the boat.”

“The boat—and
you
.” She pressed my arm with her finger. “Exactly.”

I rolled my eyes. “I love the spin you put on
things, but I can’t do it. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.”

“Nah, that’s just worrying about being on the boat. Telling him will not be as hard as you think.”

“I already have a bruised knee and a questionable hamstring muscle,” I said, “from trying to be Catwoman last night.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you to scale
buildings
,” she said, and we laughed. After my disastrous attempts, I’d called Heather—she was just on her way home from seeing a movie with Dean, and we’d gotten together for ice cream in my room to laugh about it.

“I thought it was a brilliant idea,” I said. “And it could have worked.”

“Could have,” Heather agreed. “But why don’t you just try sitting next to him on the ferry and telling him? Might be a little less risky.”

“With everyone else around?” I scoffed. “No way. That would be so embarrassing.”

“It isn’t easy. I know. Okay, I’ll give you a hint.”

“It better be a big one,” I said. “I need all the help I can get.”

“Shut up. You’re constantly saying that and putting yourself down. You did fine meeting Blake. It just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s sort of the truth,” I said with a laugh.

“Anyway. What I usually do? Is give myself a deadline.”

“A deadline?” I asked. “What kind of deadline?”

“Tell yourself that you’re not leaving the island, or ending today, without telling him how you feel, that he’s the Spencerest of all the Spencers you know, or whatever.”

“Whatever I say? It’s going to be better than that,” I assured her as we both cracked up. “Wait a second. Did you just say today?” I nearly dropped my pop can on my foot. “Are you insane?”

“No,” she said. “Do you want to spend the rest of your vacation pining away for him or do you want to start hanging out? And making out?”

“But what if I bomb like last time?”

“What last time?”

As we waited, I finally told her the story of what had happened when I was fifteen, and how Spencer had completely blown off my attempt to get closer to him.

Although it had been horribly embarrassing for me, she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“You know what? I would not feel bad about that at all,” Heather scoffed. “I bet he didn’t even know you were making a move.”

How I wished that were true. “Oh, he knew. He’s referred to it once or twice on this trip.”

“In a fun way?” she asked.

“Let’s see. Is teasing and glaring considered fun? Maybe in
some
cultures.”

“That’s Spencer, though. I mean, hate to say it, but he’s not exactly the warm-and-fuzzy type. He doesn’t have a clue about how to talk to people—that’s why I told him he’d have to brush up on his socials skills—or should I say
skill
, because he doesn’t have more than one—before he goes off to Linden and immediately
insults a bunch of people.”

“He’s not that bad,” I said.

“Easy for you to say. You’re falling for him. Or you already fell, actually,” she said. “Off your balcony.”

“Great. I’m going to be teased about this for life, aren’t I?” I said. Outside, my dad was waving his arms in the air, trying to get our attention. He pointed at the ocean, then at the car, then at us. I waved to let him know we got the message.

“Pretty much,” Heather said as we hurried over to the car. A ferry was just docking, and everyone was starting their engines again, preparing to board. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something else soon.”

“That’s so reassuring,” I said as we climbed into the Rustbucket.

“What’s reassuring?” Spencer asked, turning around in the front seat, where he sat beside my dad, who was driving.

“Hold on. Here we go, kids!” My dad started humming the tune to the very old TV show,
Gilligan’s Island
, where the characters were on a
three-hour boat tour and got stranded on an island for a few seasons.

“Dad. We’re not going out in some small fishing boat,” I said.

“Neither was Gilligan, Em. Neither was Gilligan.” And there he was, driving us onto the ferry, singing the theme song at the top of his lungs.

Somewhere, the world was missing a very strange accountant.

Maybe he needed to take more vacation days.

Four hours later, we’d had a delicious late lunch at a café right on the harbor, seen the Ocracoke Lighthouse, the pirate museum, the place where Blackbeard was said to have met his fate. We’d also seen houses, gift shops, art studios, and the tiniest cemetery I’d ever seen, which was for four British soldiers killed during World War II. We’d done almost everything as a tight-knit group, so I hadn’t had a minute alone with Spencer—in fact, we’d both spent lots of time holding on to or chasing Tim and Tyler.

We’d gone back to the visitor center in the middle of town, where we’d parked, so Adam could get some snacks for the kids out of the van. “Hey, my dad just called—there’s some bad weather coming in—thunderstorms—and he was thinking I really should get the boys home at a semi-decent hour, so we need to head back.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” said my dad. “We don’t want to be out here in the middle of a storm.”

“It’s a really good idea,” Heather agreed.

“Okay. We’ll all go, I guess.” I looked at Heather and shrugged.

“Yes. But we have the two cars,” my dad said. “So you don’t need to rush off.”

“Yes. Really,” Heather said. “You guys stay. Enjoy the local flavors. Go shopping!”

“No thanks, I’m done shopping,” said Spencer. He turned to me. “You?”

“I’m broke,” I said. “But maybe I should stay a little while and try to get some nighttime pictures.”

“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself. Who
would like to stay and keep Emily company? How about you, Spencer?” my dad suggested.

“Yeah, sure. That’s probably a good idea. What about you, Heather? You want to stay, too?” Spencer asked.

“Oh, I—I can’t,” she said. “I need to go check in with my mom and see how she’s doing.” Heather came closer and pulled me aside. “Listen, Emily. Don’t you see—this is the perfect opportunity. I can’t stay—I’m supposed to be meeting Dean tonight, so I’ve got to head back. But you and Spencer can stay, together.”

“You’re ditching me?” I asked.

“Did you tell him yet?” Heather asked.

“No…” I said slowly. “Do long looks at him count?”

She threw up her hands. “Then I’m definitely ditching you. What are you waiting for? Tell him.”

“Give me a break! I haven’t had a chance.”

“Right. Sure you haven’t,” Heather said. “Well, you’re definitely going to have a chance now.”

“Okay. How should I—”

“Emily, you’re smart. You’ll think of something.”

I raised my right eyebrow, daring her to leave me. What was this, tough love? She calmly walked over and climbed into the van, where Tim and Tyler were already buckled in and waiting. Adam got in beside her, then my dad got in, taking the driver’s seat, looking like a chauffeur. Spencer’s mom and dad were the last ones in.

“Call to check in!” Mr. Flanagan yelled over his shoulder, his voice mingling with my dad’s, who was saying the same exact thing. Then the sliding doors dinged and closed, they pulled away, and Spencer and I were left standing in the parking lot.

“So where did you want to get those pictures?” Spencer asked.

“I was thinking some sunset pictures. By the lighthouse?” I suggested.

“If it weren’t cloudy, that would be a great concept.” Spencer looked up at the sky. “You didn’t want to do that, anyway. Too clichéd.”

“How about if I take some pictures of you, then?” I suggested.

“You must have enough to fill three albums and crash the Shutterfly site,” he said drily. “You could photograph the storm. How do you feel about pictures of lightning strikes?”

I eyed the darkening sky. “I think they’re the kind of weather photos other people should take. You know, maybe we should just go. If we leave now we could meet them at the ferry line.”

“Yeah, but if we wait a little, maybe there won’t be as much of a line,” he argued. “We could grab a bite somewhere and wait out the storm?”

“Sure, okay. Except…I don’t know. I—don’t feel good.” That wasn’t far from the truth. I was feeling more nervously ill all the time.

He just stared at me, completely unsympathetic. “You were feeling fine ten minutes ago. When you ate that ice cream.”

“Well, that’s it, maybe it was something I ate, then.”

“Are you going to get sick?”

Way to kill any romance, Emily
, I thought.
By suggesting nausea
. “No, I just feel a little dizzy. You know, like when you try to read the news
paper in the car and all the lines start waving around and go blurry?”

“That doesn’t happen to me.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe if you read more, you’d get used to reading in the car,” Spencer said.

“Ha-ha. Do you really want to insult me when I feel sick?”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“Let’s walk around some more. I’m sure I’ll feel better in a little while.”

“How about if we just sit down over there?” Spencer gestured to a picnic table by the water.

“Fine.”

Spencer looked at his watch and then at the sky.

“You’re contemplating leaving me here, aren’t you?”

“No. I just wondered what we should do. We should probably go now, make a run for it, or wait until later. Unless you were thinking we’d spend the night here?” Spencer said.

Thought you’d never ask
.

“Because that’s absurd,” Spencer said. “We
don’t have enough money to rent a room, even if there were any vacancies, which I seriously doubt.”