Authors: Catherine Clark
“What kind?”
I squirmed a little, feeling uncomfortable again, as if history was only bound to repeat itself here in a few seconds. “Where I tell you how I feel and you, uh, turn the other way.”
“What? I didn’t do anything as bad as
that
,” Spencer said.
I nodded. “You did.”
“Really? Wow. I don’t remember it that way. I remember totally panicking, and thinking, we’re leaving the next day and our parents are in the next room and what if something weird happens—”
“I thought all that stuff, too!” I said. “I just decided to take the chance.”
“Yeah, well. You’re young. You take chances when you’re young.”
“True. In fact, watch this.” I moved closer
and kissed him quickly on the cheek, right by his small scar. Then I kissed his mouth, and it was nothing like the fast kiss Blake had given me in the grocery store—it was soft and gentle and kind of distracting me from my point. Then I nuzzled his neck, brushing my lips against the slight stubble he had now whenever he didn’t shave. He was so grown-up. What am I saying?
I
was so grown-up. I’d never done anything so bold in my life.
“Some risks…are…worth…taking. I guess,” he murmured, and then he started kissing me back.
“I
’ve never had gingerbread pancakes before. Those were awesome,” Spencer commented as we walked to the car the next morning. “I kept thinking, with their love of cookbooks and slasher novels, maybe they’re trying to lure us into some evil plot, but I don’t care. Pass the syrup.”
“I hear you,” I said, but the truth was, I’d been too happy and excited to eat much of anything. I just sipped orange juice and played footsie with Spencer under the table. I was absentmindedly eating a cookie as we walked along the road—Mildred had insisted I take one with me.
We’d spent the night talking, kissing, talk
ing, kissing, occasionally snuggling—I think I probably slept about two hours. When I woke up with Spencer next to me, at first it seemed like just another one of my la-la-land dreams.
Then he said, “Nice bed head,” and I knew it was the real Spencer.
I contemplated snapping a quick photo—you know, just for evidence’s sake. That seemed a little odd, though, so I kept my camera put away.
We’d gotten up around 9:00 and eaten breakfast with Mildred, Curt, and a dozen other guests at the B&B before heading back to the parking lot at around 10:30 to check on our car. I hadn’t checked in with anyone at home yet and I kind of didn’t want to. I liked being secluded, on our own “romantical” island.
There was a large, red piece of paper slipped under the car’s windshield wipers.
RUSTBUCKET READY
! it said.
RUSTBUCKET TO THE RESCUE
!
HAS BEEN HERE
.
YOUR CAR IS GOOD TO GO
!
“Why do I have a hard time believing that?” asked Spencer.
When I opened up the car door, another slip of paper fell out, which turned out to be the repair bill.
SPARK PLUG WIRES REPLACED
.
MINI-MUM EMERGENCY CHARGE APPLIED TO YOUR CREDIT CARD AS PER CONTRACT
: $300.
HAVE A NICE DAY
!
So much for saving money by using a cut-rate car rental place. Living dangerously—or rather, frugally—could sometimes catch up with my dad. “Okay, you can be in charge of handing this to my dad when we get back,” I said to Spencer.
“Get back?” he said, leaning against the car. “What do you mean? We’re going back?”
I stood beside him and leaned against the car. The morning sun felt great on my face. But it reminded me that I didn’t have sunscreen—or a hair brush—or anything. I was in desperate need of a shower. “I need clothes that haven’t been rained on, slept in, and worn again. How about you?”
Spencer shook his head. “I’m fine like this.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You would be.”
He took my arm and sort of twirled me
around to face him. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re so adaptable.”
“Hey. I spent a lot of time the past six months sleeping on cots and other uncomfortable places, living out of a duffel of clothes and not always having a shower.”
“I forgot. So, it’s probably good I didn’t see you then. Did you have a beard?”
“As a matter of fact—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Well? Should we give the car a try?”
“I don’t think we have a choice. Although now that it’s daylight and not pouring, we at least have more choices than this,” I said. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing, after I said it. One great aspect to the previous night had been the fact that we were forced to share a space, unless one of us wanted to sleep in the car while the other slept in the B& B…Well,
I
certainly wasn’t about to volunteer for that. I wanted a room with a view. Of Spencer.
We got into the Rustbucket, where the key
was waiting in the ignition. “One advantage of a cheap car is the fact you can almost always leave the key in it. That may be the only one, though.” Spencer laughed. He rolled down the passenger window, and before he knew what I was up to, I took a quick picture of him.
“Hey! What are you doing? You know I don’t get photographed before ten in the morning.”
“It’s eleven.” I took another one of him grinning at me, then slipped my camera into the little compartment between the front seats, leaned over, and kissed him.
“Maybe we should just hang out here today,” he suggested after a minute of sitting in the car, kissing. “Do we actually have to go back?”
“Mmm. Probably,” I whispered into his ear.
It was nearly impossible to pull myself away from him, but somehow I managed. I gazed at Spencer for another second as I prepared to start the car. He looked sort of uncomfortable and I didn’t know why. “Are you okay?” I
asked. “You look like you’re getting a headache or something.”
He rubbed his temples. “I can’t find my sunglasses. I think I lost them in our room. Maybe they’re under the bed or in the bed or something,” Spencer said.
I laughed. “Well, that’s embarrassing. You could go back and ask Mildred.”
“I’d never do that. I’d ask Curt. But no, thanks, I’ll just squint. Who knows, maybe they’re here in the car somewhere?” he said. He began rummaging around the seat, looking underneath it.
The car started easily, and soon we were headed away from the shops, down the road toward the tip of the island and the ferry. I looked over at Spencer and said, “Remember. We’ll always have Ocracoke.”
“We will?”
“It’s a saying.” I shrugged.
“Not a good one,” Spencer said.
You could make out with someone all you wanted, but you can’t change him from occasionally being rude and arrogant.
We snuggled close to each other on the ferry, and when we got close to the landing on Cape Hatteras Island, Spencer and I walked down to the first floor and stood looking at the shore. I saw a few people frantically waving at the ferry.
We got closer and I noticed my dad’s trademark green Linden sweatshirt. I saw Spencer’s dad standing beside him, and Spencer’s mom, and
my
mom. Did we really need such a welcoming committee? When I called my dad this morning to let him know which ferry we’d be on, I didn’t expect him to round up the whole gang! “Well. Back to reality and parents,” I said over the noise of the churning water as the ferry pulled closer to the landing.
Spencer suddenly moved away from me. I grabbed his hand, but he held it loosely, our fingers intertwined where no one could see them. “Let’s keep this between us,” he said.
“Really?” I said.
He looked at me as if that were an idiotic thing to question. “Really.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone will talk about it, and us—”
“I can’t tell anyone? Not even Heather?”
“Especially not Heather. Can you imagine the grief they’d give us? All of them? Our parents would be over the moon. Over all of Saturn’s moons, too. I don’t want them to interfere.”
“But they’d be happy for us.”
“Too happy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? And since when can anyone be
too
happy?” I asked.
“Come on, we have to get into the car.” He started walking away from me, edging through the cars on the first level toward the Rustbucket, which was parked midway back. We got in and I closed the door.
I knew what Spencer was getting at, but I still thought he was being overly cautious. “Okay, so you’re saying we have to be secretive. Do we have a password? Do we have code names and everything for each other? How about…you be ‘Curt,’ and I’ll be ‘Mildred.’” I made air quotes. “We’ll only
meet after midnight under the cover of darkness—”
Spencer shook his head. “Forget it. I knew you’d be too immature about this.”
“
Me?
What about you?” I shot back as the ramp lowered and we followed the line of cars off the ferry. “What’s your problem? Why shouldn’t people know?”
I acknowledged my parents with a quick wave and looked for a place to pull over, so we could meet up with them.
“What’s there to know?” Spencer said. “It’s not like we’re going to stay…together. You’ll just find some other guy, another Blake or an even dumber Neanderthal, right?”
I parked the car and turned to him. “Why are you saying that? You know that’s not true.” As I was looking at him, looking at that same face that I’d kissed the night before, that was now steely and arrogant, my eyes quickly filled with tears. I was glad I hadn’t lost my sunglasses. I needed them.
“Hey, kids!” My dad pounded the top of the car. “We thought we should follow you home,
make sure the car’s working and you don’t get stranded.”
I got out of the car, not wanting to spend any more time in it with Spencer. My mom ran up to give me a hug, and I have to admit that I hugged her a little harder than I normally would have. She gave me a curious look as we separated. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep very well.”
“Who would have, under those circumstances? Was it completely awful? I hated sending you to a place sight unseen.”
“The B-and-B was fine. Very pink,” Spencer said as he walked around from the passenger side.
“And how was the rest of the trip?” his mother asked him.
“Oh, you know. Seen one lighthouse, you’ve seen ’em all,” Spencer said in a bored tone.
I glared at him, wanting to kick him. He wouldn’t make eye contact.
“So, should we follow you guys?” Mr. Flanagan asked.
“Actually, if it’s okay, I’d rather ride with you,” I said to my mom.
She looked concerned, but thrilled at the same time. “Oh. Well, sure. Spencer? You want—”
“I’ll stick with the Rustbucket,” he said quickly. “It’s gotten us this far, right?”
“How about if the guys go in one car, and the girls in the other?” Mrs. Flanagan said.
I nodded, not really able to talk just then.
“Good call,” said my dad. “Spencer, I’ll drive, and you can regale me with tales of New Orleans.”
“Okay, but no singing,” Spencer was saying as they got into the car.
Normally I would have laughed at that, but I didn’t find anything funny about Spencer at the moment. What was going on with him? He was the one who mocked me for having a fling…but what was ditching someone after one day? A
fling
, right?
Or, quite possibly, the biggest mistake I’d ever made.
W
hen we got back, I walked into the house and ran right up to my room, telling my parents I needed a nap. I’d never gone from utter happiness to complete misery in such a short time. There had to be a world record for this sort of thing. I didn’t want the distinction of having it, but I felt like I must be close.
I turned on the radio, lay down on my bed, and clutched the pillow to my chest. Seconds later there was a knock at the door.
Maybe it’s Spencer
, I thought, getting up to answer it.
Maybe he wants to apolo—
“Emily? Let me in!” Heather called from the other side.
I opened the door and she burst in, quickly
giving me a little hug. “So? How did it go? I can’t believe you were stuck there all night. How was it?”
“Horrible. And great. But then horrible,” I said, and I started to cry.
“What happened? Oh, my God, don’t cry. Please don’t do that or
I’ll
cry,” she said. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and handed it to me.
“You don’t even know what happened,” I said.
“Not yet, but if it’s something to make you that upset, I can’t handle it,” she said.
We sat down on the bed and I told her about the fun night we’d had—and about the not-so-fun morning afterward, how everything had been great until we saw our parents, and Spencer freaked out about everyone knowing about us. “He didn’t even want me to tell you,” I said. “Which is so ridiculous. Like, how could I not tell you? And why?”
“Is he one of those intensely private people?” Heather wondered.
“No, he’s one of those intensely insensitive
people. I mean, you don’t have to tell the world, but you should be able to tell your best friend and your parents. You know? Then he called me immature because I made fun of him for wanting to be all secretive.”
“But before all that—things were good? You told him how you felt…?”
I nodded. “He said he felt the same way. I thought we really connected. I don’t understand him. Why would he just—turn his back on me?”
“Because despite how cute and funny and great he can be, he can also be an arrogant idiot,” said Heather. “Do you want me to talk to him for you? Or better yet, slug him for you? I have a mean right hook.”
I smiled. “No. Not yet. Can I take a rain check, though?”
“You should just come out with me and Dean. Don’t sit around here waiting for him to flip-flop again.”
“Yeah. Maybe I will. How are things going with Dean?”
“You know what? I thought it was going to
be a fling. But it turns out we kind of…we really click.” She smiled and leaned back on the bed. “It’s getting kind of embarrassing how much I like him, especially since we’re only here for one more week.”
“Maybe you could stick around here the rest of the summer—get a job down here,” I suggested.
“I thought about that. In fact, I’ve been thinking about it all the time. But can you imagine suggesting that to my mom?” She cringed.
“I know. You talk to Spencer and I’ll face your mom,” I said. “And if neither works out, you and I can spend the summer together somewhere else. Like Alaska. And then we can
not
go to Linden in the fall, because Spencer’s going to be there and I won’t want to see him—”
“No way—if we ditch Linden, we’re going to California,” Heather said.
I laughed. “You have this all planned, don’t you?”
“And if things don’t work with Spencer, he can leave Linden, not you,” Heather said.
“There’s no way I’m rooming with some total stranger.”
Later in the afternoon, I was sitting on the beach, lazily clicking through pictures on my camera, when my mom came over to sit down next to me. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Just looking. Deciding which ones to make prints of,” I said.
“Can I see?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “I’ll show you the good ones.”
The reason I didn’t really want her to see was that I was scrolling through all the photos of me, and Spencer, and me and Spencer. I’d gone from being so happy about having such great pictures, to wanting to delete all of them: Spencer and me on top of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, Spencer pointing to the B& B’s sign, Spencer in the Rustbucket grinning at me…
My mom turned out to be looking over my shoulder. “That Spencer, he’s such a nice guy,” she chimed in. “Always looking after Heather
the way he does. How he stayed with you last night—”
I turned to look at her. “He had no choice, Mom.”
“Sure he did. You both could have left or he could have left you there, the Rustbucket wasn’t his car,” she said. “He’s a very responsible person.”
I sighed. “Looks can be deceiving, Mom.”
“What are you saying?” Now she was starting to look worried. “Nothing happened between you two. Right?”
“Right.”
“But you’re not hanging out,” she observed. “I’d think you’d be hanging out together.”
“Well. We’re not,” I said. “You know Spencer. He always wants to bury his nose in a book. Besides, everyone went their own way this afternoon. Heather’s with Dean, Adam’s at a batting cage with his dad and brothers—”
I stopped as I came to a photo of me and Spencer, one in which he had his arm draped around my shoulders, and we just looked right. I was about to delete it, when I stopped myself.
I remembered Spencer teasing me that day at Cape Hatteras, saying how I loved to delete. It was so incredible that we’d managed, finally, to get together. Why did Spencer have to go and ruin it?
“You know, I think I’m going to take off, too,” I said.
“Really? Where? Do you want some company?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” I said. “It’s, um, something I’m working on. A secret.”
“Really?”
“Don’t get excited—it’s just a camera thing.” I stood up and brushed sand off the backs of my legs. I dropped my camera into my pocket and picked up my flip-flops.
“
Just?
” Mom called after me. “Honey, anything to do with you and pictures, I’m interested in!”
I glanced up for some reason and spotted Spencer standing on the deck upstairs in his usual place, holding a book, looking out at the water and pretending he hadn’t seen me.
I just walked past without saying anything.
As the prints came out of the photo printer, I contemplated cutting Spencer’s picture out of the group shots. Fortunately, the drugstore didn’t leave a pair of scissors around. Or unfortunately. I wasn’t quite sure.
They had a table to work on and even stocked the kind of calendars I wanted to use to give each family as an end-of-trip present. I knew we still had a week left, but I wanted to start early to give myself plenty of time.
I laid out the prints on the table, trying to match each one to a particular month. I flipped through the open calendar and stopped when I saw September. It was coming up much too quickly. I’d be at Linden then. What would life be like? Would I be anywhere near talking to Spencer at that point or would we just not make eye contact when we walked past each other on campus? Was it too late to apply to UW? I’d always loved the Bucky Badger mascot…
I was lost in thought when someone came over to the table. “Nice pictures,” said a male voice.
I looked up and saw Spencer peering at all my work spread out on the table. “Nice? Don’t you mean ‘immature’?”
“No, you—you really have a gift for this. The way you caught the light there…and the water…” He seemed to be fumbling for words. “Anyway. They’re great. Can we, uh, talk?”
“I’m pretty busy getting all this together.” I started collecting all my prints, wondering how quickly I could bolt. I didn’t want to be around him.
“Em, look. I’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m
really
sorry.”
I stayed focused on my work, as hard as it was right then. I just couldn’t look at him. “I
really
don’t care.”
“What I said this morning—I mean, I was just—that was me being stupid. You’re not immature, Emily. You’re the opposite of immature.” He tried to touch my arm, but I pulled away and shifted to the other side of the table to collect more prints.
“Now you make me sound like I’m ready for a nursing home,” I said. “Which is it?”
“Be quiet—I mean, don’t joke around, I’m trying to say something and you’re not listening,” Spencer pleaded.
“Oh. Wow. I’ve never heard of that happening,” I said drily.
“You had the guts to say what I was supposed to say—and do. You’re brave enough to face everyone with this and just deal with it. But—what if—what if it didn’t work out with us?” Spencer asked in a quiet voice. “I just felt embarrassed. I’d told you so much. About dropping out and how I felt, and I—what if you change your mind? What if it doesn’t work out?”
I finally managed to look up at him. “It’s not like I wasn’t taking that risk, too. And Spencer, we’ve known each other for so long. I think we both knew it was a good idea.”
“
Was?
” he blurted.
“What’s a good idea?”
I looked up and saw Spencer’s parents, who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. They came over to the table.
“They dropped me off then went next door
to shop,” he explained under his breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think they’d come back.”
“Um.” I coughed. “Making prints before my memory card gets full. Or erased. Or lost.”
“Ah. What’s taking you so long, Spencer?” Mr. Flanagan asked.
“I needed new sunglasses. I was, uh, asking Emily for her advice on picking out another pair, but then she started showing me her great photographs, and—”
“You lost
another
pair? That’s two so far,” commented Mr. Flanagan.
“I know, I know. I guess I, uh, dropped them,” Spencer said. “On the ferry. I called, ‘Shades overboard!’ but nobody seemed to care.”
“Emily, how are you after your overnight adventure?” asked Mrs. Flanagan, browsing the nearby shelves, while Spencer turned a rack of bumper stickers around and around.
“Fine. Just fine,” I said, casting a glance at Spencer, wondering if visual death rays were just a myth.
“Can you believe how many bumper stickers
there are?” he said. “I mean, look at this.” He held one out to me that had the standard abbreviation for Outer Banks, OBX, only on this sticker the
O
was the shape of two lips giving a lipstick kiss.
I raised my eyebrow. Interesting choice.
“What are you doing over here, Emily?” Spencer’s father asked as his mother grabbed some items and headed for the register to checkout.
“Nothing. I mean, it’s a surprise. Or at least it was.” I laughed nervously.
Spencer’s mom returned from the counter, while his dad went up front to buy some candy and chips. “Here, Emily.” Mrs. Flanagan handed me a travel kit filled with tiny bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and shower gel. “Happy early birthday. Or late birthday. Whatever.” She smiled.
“For me? Am I going somewhere?” I asked.
Spencer laughed. “Good one.”
I glared at him.
Great. Now he’s probably convinced his parents to leave early, just in case something else happens between us and he can’t deal with that,
either. Or wait. Maybe they’re kicking ME off the island
.
“It’s for when you get to Linden. You need your little kit in case you don’t always spend the night in your dorm room,” Mrs. Flanagan said as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
“Mom!” Spencer exclaimed. “Jeez.”
“Oh.” She giggled. “I didn’t mean
that
. Emily’s not that kind of…Anyway, all I meant was that she’s going to take road trips with her friends, her roommates. You can have this kit and think of this great vacation whenever you use it. One whiff of that saltwater ocean lotion and you’ll come right back here.”
“Really,” I murmured.
The question is: Will I want to?
“Mom. You’re hopeless,” Spencer said.
“What?” She put her hand to her throat, adjusting a patterned scarf she was wearing.
“You’re not selling the product, okay? You’re buying it. You don’t need to convince other people to use it,” he argued.
Wow. He’s even that rude to his mom
, I thought.
“Well, excuse me for caring. I wasn’t forcing anyone to do anything,” she said.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Flanagan. I really appreciate the gift—your thinking of me. I love little mini products like this.”
“You do?” Spencer looked like he’d just lost all faith in the human race, like I’d committed a felony. “You’re into products?”
I finished packing up my stuff. “Don’t you have sunglasses to pick out?”
“Fine.” He headed for the twirling sunglasses post.
“And don’t get the same ones again!” I called after him. “Those were hideous.”
His forehead creased with concern as he looked over his shoulder. “I thought you liked them.”
“Yeah. I thought I did, too, but the longer you wore them…not so much.” I turned and walked out of the drugstore, clutching my prints, calendars…and all-natural organic travel tote. That might come in handy when Heather and I left Linden for California.