The Islanders (20 page)

“OH, BROWN GOO ON WHITE
bread, my favorite,” Nina said, looking down at her lunch tray.

“I think it's turkey,” Zoey said doubtfully. “You can tell by the peas. Turkey always comes with peas. If it was Salisbury steak, there would be gray beans.”

“Where is Salisbury, anyway, and why do they force their steaks on the rest of the world?” Aisha demanded.

“Salisbury's not far from Turkey,” Nina said. “And you two are supposed to be seniors. Pay attention during geography, and you'd know that Turkey is separated from Salisbury by Greece.”

“Greece,” Zoey groaned. “That's bad.”

“Yes, and Frankfurt and Hamburg aren't in Germany, either,” Nina said, grinning mischievously. “Nope. They're in Ireland.”

“Ireland? I don't get it,” Zoey said.

“Actually, in County
Mayo,
Ireland. Mayo. Get it?”

“Now I get it,” Zoey said darkly. “I wish I hadn't.”

“She gets it, she just doesn't relish it,” Aisha added.

“Please stop,” Zoey said politely. “I'm armed with red Jell-O. Don't make me use it.”

They paid for their lunches and headed toward a vacant table. Zoey noticed Claire coming out of the other lunch line. “Hey, Claire,” Zoey said quickly before Nina could poke her in the ribs, “would you like to join us in our sumptuous feast?”

“Sure,” Claire said unenthusiastically. It was an unwritten rule between Nina and Claire that they spent as little time near each other as possible while they were at school. But Zoey had felt there was some undefined tension between herself and Claire. It had been evident on the ferry ride that morning. And Aisha's warning about the group becoming divided had hit home with Zoey. The island kids had always hung together.

She caught sight of Lucas, sitting several tables away at a discreet distance. He looked even more solemn and withdrawn than usual.

“Are you going to eat that?” Claire asked Nina as they sat down. “I thought you weren't eating anything that involved animal flesh.”

Nina shrugged. “I'm starting with cows and pigs. I'll work my way down to chickens and turkeys.”

“How about fish?” Aisha asked.

“That's stage three,” Nina said.

“Stage four is you starve to death,” Claire said. “You know, this vegetarian thing is—”

“Uh-oh,” Aisha murmured.

Zoey felt a hard tap on her shoulder and turned around in annoyance. Jake stood over her, looking huge, his face distorted by cold anger.

“Hi, Jake,” Zoey said.

“I need to talk to you,” Jake said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Um, okay, pull up a chair,” Zoey said.

“Alone. Now.”

“Jake, I'm eating—” She gestured vaguely toward her tray.

“I don't give a damn about your food,” Jake snapped. “I want to know what's going on, Zoey.”

Zoey felt the hush that was falling over the lunchroom, a ripple of whispers and strained attention. Nina and Aisha's eyes were aimed down at the table. Claire watched with calm detachment, her dark-in-dark eyes curious and alert.

“What are you talking about?” Zoey asked, buying precious time.

“You and Lucas,” Jake said. “I'm talking about you and Lucas. You and that dirtbag.”

Zoey felt her throat clenching up. Everyone was staring at her. She glanced toward Lucas and met his eye. He was grim, waiting for her to answer.

She hung her head and answered in a whisper. “Jake, I was going to tell you—”

Jake interrupted with a string of expletives, slamming his fist onto the table. He started to walk away but instantly turned back. Zoey flinched. Lucas started to rise from his seat.

“Why?” Jake demanded. His eyes were wide, but no longer with rage. Now they pleaded, and Zoey felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Jake—” she began desperately.

“I love you, Zo. We've been together since . . . forever, it seems like. I thought you loved me, too.”

“I . . . I do. I mean, I did.” The final word came out in a barely audible whisper. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Didn't mean—” He smiled a desolate, desperate smile, and to Zoey's horror she saw that there were tears in his eyes. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. He stood there, his big body seeming strangely shrunken and sagging.

“Jake,” Zoey said. But there was nothing else for her to say.

He looked at her hopefully, as if she might still change her mind and tell him it was all just a terrible joke. At last he turned away.

A thundering silence followed him as he strode from the room. Then a nervous laugh from somewhere in the crowd. And whispers that rapidly grew in volume.

Lucas sat with his head in his hands, looking nearly as unhappy as Jake. Even Nina looked at Zoey with accusing eyes.

“I didn't think . . .” Zoey began helplessly. “I never wanted to hurt him. I loved him. I still do, it's just . . .” Zoey bit her knuckles. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. People were staring at her, no doubt thinking she was the bitch of all time. Then another thought occurred to her. “How did he find out? Did one of you tell him?”

Aisha gave her a dirty look. “Don't take it out on us, Zoey. As of right now, the three of us are the only friends you've got.”

Claire stood up slowly, lifting her tray. “Make that two.”

Zoey grabbed a tissue from the box of Puffs on her desk and pressed it against her streaming eyes. Nina leaned over her shoulder and read the letter silently.

“I feel like crap,” Zoey said through the tissue.

“It's a good letter,” Nina said thoughtfully. Zoey felt the pressure of Nina's hand on her shoulder. Then Nina picked up the letter and handed it to Aisha, who was sitting on Zoey's bed.

Aisha read it over and handed it back to Nina. “It's nice, Zoey. It's about all you can do, except for dumping Lucas real fast and going back to Jake.”

“I can't do that,” Zoey said, wiping her eyes dry with a
second tissue. “I think I'm really in love with Lucas.”

Aisha seemed to be biting her tongue.

“I know what you're going to say, Eesh,” Zoey said, breathing deep to clear away the sobs. “I thought I was in love with Jake, too.”

“Well, you have to admit, you are a little unreliable on this,” Aisha said. “What is different about the way you feel with Lucas? I mean, is it just exactly like Jake, only ten percent more or something?”

Zoey shrugged. “I don't know. I always really liked Jake. I always thought he was really good looking and sexy.”

Nina shivered and made a face. “Don't mention the words sexy and Jake in the same sentence.”

“I think he's sexy,” Aisha said. “I'd go along with that. Maybe a good solid eight on a scale of ten.”

“It's not that I suddenly didn't like Jake anymore,” Zoey said. “It's just that all of a sudden there was Lucas. And it was like . . . ” She searched her mind for a comparison. “It was like, you know, how at night the moon can seem amazingly bright, but then you get days when the moon is still up in the sky, but the sun is up, too? And then the moon looks pale and the sun looks so incredibly bright?”

“So Jake is the moon and Lucas is the sun,” Nina said dryly. “Zoey, have you been working on your romance novel again?”

“Which one of us is supposed to deliver this letter to Jake?” Aisha asked unenthusiastically.

“I don't want to do it,” Nina said.

“You think
I
do?” Aisha asked.

“I'll flip you for it,” Nina said, pulling a quarter from her pocket.

“I hope you know what you're doing, Zoey,” Aisha said.

“I do,” Zoey said, trying to sound confident. “I've learned my lesson. I want to get it all out in the open. That's the only way things will ever get better.”

“I meant that I hope you know what you're doing, choosing Lucas over Jake,” Aisha said.

“I know what I feel in my heart,” Zoey said softly, but with conviction.

“Call it,” Nina said, tossing the coin in the air.

 

Here's something that Zoey never found out. I had already kissed Jake, long before the two of them broke up.

It was just last year, Christmas vacation. Zoey and Benjamin had gone off with their parents to stay with their grandparents for a week. While they were gone, we got about a foot of new snow. I happened to run into Jake, who was roaring around the beach on a snowmobile his dad had just bought. Being Jake, he didn't offer me a ride because, after all, what would Zoey think if she found out?

So I asked him, and he couldn't really refuse. We raced on down along the beach, half a mile or more, kicking up a big plume of snow while the surf crashed just beside us, me holding on to him from behind.

He stopped after a while and said something about how cold it was. He said his lips were frozen stiff. So I said I'd have to do something about that.

The kiss lasted maybe one second. No big deal to me, just a whim, but you would have thought Jake had been caught selling crack to five-year-olds inside a church. He made me swear ten times I wouldn't ever tell Zoey. It could never happen again, he was faithful, he was in love with Zoey, blah, blah, blah.

I was a little insulted, to be honest. But since then I've noticed that he can't always keep his eyes off me. When I'm in a bathing suit or tight shorts or something, he'll always look, and then get all guilty and turn red and immediately start paying complete attention to Zoey.

It's kind of fun to watch. One harmless little kiss, but for him it's this big moral dilemma. That's Jake. The kind of guy who thinks he's committed a felony just because he likes to look at a pretty girl.

Faithful, honest, straight-arrow Jake. You can read him like a book, and you always know just where he stands.

Kind of naive, even a little ridiculous. But then again, after a Lucas and a Benjamin, there are times when you want a Jake.

AS ZOEY WAS SIGNING THE
letter, Claire was riding her bike the eight blocks from her house to Jake's. She stuck to the shore along the rocks, going past the dock and along the beach before turning into the steep driveway. It was too steep to ride her bike without getting hot and sweaty, so she leaned it against the McRoyans' mailbox and walked the rest of the way to the house.

She knocked at the front door and stood there on the porch, swatting away the flies that buzzed around the porch light. There was no answer, and when Claire looked, she noticed that there were no lights on inside.

She walked around the house, following the path past the garbage cans to the lower level where Jake's basement room opened onto the patio. Light spilled from his room.

“Claire?”

Nina's voice. She had come from the other direction, appearing through the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” Claire asked.

Nina grabbed her and pulled her away, out of the pool of light from Jake's room. “What am
I
doing here? What are
you
doing here?”

“I'm stopping by to see Jake,” Claire said calmly.

“You're stopping by to see Jake,” Nina echoed incredulously. “Since when do you stop by to see Jake?”

“Since he asked for my history notes.”

“Puh-leeze.”

“You know, I don't have to check with you before I stop off and see a friend,” Claire said icily. “But since you've poked your nose into
my
business, how about if you tell me why you're here?”

“Just passing by,” Nina said.

But Claire noticed a white envelope stuck in the waistband of her sister's shorts. “What's that?”

“Nothing,” Nina said instantly.

Claire laughed. Nina never had learned the knack of lying very well. “Okay, you don't have to tell me. But I'll bet it's something from Zoey.”

Nina's eyes flared in unwilling acknowledgment.

“What, some mushy letter? Is she apologizing for making him look pathetic in front of the whole student body?”

“Does Benjamin know you're
visiting
Jake in his bedroom at night?” Nina asked sharply.

“I don't think so,” Claire said.

“I bet he would be a little suspicious if he did,” Nina said.

Claire made a wry smile. “Benjamin is always suspicious of one thing or another.” She started to walk away, but Nina held her back.

“Claire, this is pretty sleazy, don't you think? Even for you. I mean, I don't even know if Zoey and Jake have officially broken up yet. And I know you haven't officially broken up with Benjamin.”

“I'm just stopping by to give Jake my history notes,” Claire said flatly. “Besides, Nina, I know how happy you'd be if I did break up with Benjamin, so don't try throwing that in my face.”

“What are you talking about?” Nina demanded, a little too shrilly.

“Give me a break. Benjamin's the one who's blind, I'm not. I know you're all hot for him.” She walked away, relieved that Nina said nothing further to stop her.

Well, that had been a piece of unfortunate luck. Nina was sure to tell Zoey, and she might even work up the nerve to tell Benjamin.

On the other hand, so what? These were minor secrets, in the grand scheme of things. As long as she could keep the real secret from all of them, everything would be all right.

Jake sat on his bed, staring at a dusty cardboard box, and took a long swallow from the beer. It was lukewarm, from one of the
cases his dad kept in a corner of the unfinished rec room for times when he had a bunch of people over for a barbecue.

Two empties lay crumpled in his trash basket. A third empty lay on its side on the floor.

He took the lid from the cardboard box and sneezed at the dust that rose from it. The box was marked
JAKE'S JUNK
in black Magic Marker. He turned it over, spilling the contents onto his comforter. A Red Sox pennant, from the time Wade and he drove all the way down to Boston to watch a game, just the two of them. Come to think of it, that had been the first time he'd ever had a whole beer. Wade had used his fake ID to buy them some. By the end of the game, it was Jake who'd had to drive all the way home, even though he was just fifteen and didn't have so much as a learner's permit.

Great day. The only time he'd gone to a ball game with Wade. Great day.

He drank some more of his beer, ignoring the sour taste, and opened a scrapbook. Newspaper clippings of Wade when he was the star full-back on the Weymouth High football team. A photo of the whole team together, Wade right at the front, looking cocky, as always. A ticket from Wade's junior prom. He was dead before his senior prom.

And the newspaper article about the accident, a sort of dividing line in the scrapbook. Before that article, most of the
stuff was Wade's. After, it turned to pictures of Jake himself, standing with the whole team and looking cocky.

A ticket from his own junior prom. He had taken Zoey, of course.

He finished the fourth beer and fumbled on the floor for the next one, cracked it open, and grimaced as he swallowed.

Zoey, of course.

He didn't dance very well, couldn't seem to keep track of the rhythm, and anyway he looked like a big trained bear wearing a suit or tuxedo, but Zoey had never minded.

Well, maybe she had. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was tired of dancing with a big trained bear who couldn't keep the beat. Maybe that was it. Maybe.

There was the picture of them together in front of a snowman they'd made in the circle. They were both wrapped in parkas and hats and laughing out clouds of steam.

And there they were on Town Beach, the ferry in the background. He was lifting her up, holding her in his arms, and she was smiling and laughing. Of course, Ninny had taken the picture, so most of his head had been cut off.

He closed the book and rocked forward, not caring that tears were rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't look at any more pictures. He wasn't drunk enough yet to think about her. He might never be drunk enough.

It took several seconds for him to realize that someone was tapping at his sliding glass door.

Zoey. Only Zoey came this way, straight to the sliding glass door.

He got up and forced himself to walk slowly to the door. If she thought she could just come and apologize and right away he'd take her back . . . well, she should think again. He wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily.

He wiped his face and slid open the door, forming a cold, forbidding expression on his face.

“Hi, Jake.”

He stared, wondering if the beer was distorting his vision. “Claire?” he said at last.

“Yes,” she said. “I'm sorry I'm not Zoey.”

“I'm not,” he said.

“Can I come in? I knocked upstairs at the front door, but—”

“My folks and my sister are over in Weymouth at some movie.”

Claire glanced at the pile of mementos on his bed. “I don't want to interrupt you if you're busy,” she said.

“Just junk,” Jake said. He swept it back into the box and dropped the box onto the floor. He looked around uncertainly. The only chair he had was over by his desk. But Claire solved the problem by sitting at the end of his bed. He sat at
the head, crossing his legs.

“I just mostly stopped by to tell you how sorry I am about you and Zoey,” Claire said.

Jake nodded. It was safer than trying to speak on the subject of Zoey. He found the last beer of the six-pack and held it out for her.

“No, thanks. I haven't been interested much in drinking since . . . you know, since the accident.”

“Well, I never drink and drive,” Jake said. “I'm not Lucas.” The name made him crumple the can in his hand. Some of the beer spurted out of the top and he drank it before it could stain the bed.

“No, you're definitely not Lucas,” Claire said.

He looked at her sharply.

Claire smiled. “I mean, you know how I feel about Lucas. I can't understand why his father hasn't gotten rid of him yet.” She leaned closer and put her hand on his. “Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to still the quaver in his voice. “Yeah, I'm fine. It was just kind of a surprise, was all.”

He fell silent, slipping back down into darkness, memories of Zoey, always laughing or smiling. That's how he thought of her. Always smiling, always so small in his arms.

“It's tough,” Claire said, interrupting his thoughts.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I said, it's tough. Losing a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend,” she added with a wry smile. “I mean, I've lost a few of those over the years. Remember that guy Rick I used to go out with in eighth grade?”

“Yeah. Whatever happened to old Rick? What happens to old boyfriends when their girlfriends dump them?”

“He started going out with Courtney Howard. They've been together ever since.”

Jake smiled ruefully. “So what you're telling me is don't worry, there are other girls?”

“I thought I was being more subtle than that,” Claire said.

Jake smiled, but the smile couldn't last. His face fell, and Claire's eyes grew sad and sympathetic. She moved closer, sitting beside him, and put her arm around his shoulders.

“It's okay if you want to be sad, Jake,” she said softly. “I won't like you any less if you cry. And I would never tell anyone. I'm good at keeping secrets.”

Jake let her pull his head against her shoulder, and his tears did run down onto the white cotton of her blouse.

For a long time they lay that way, silent. Jake felt waves of bitterness, waves of anger, followed in turn by terrible sadness, loneliness.

Except that in his loneliness he felt Claire's warmth beside
him. Felt her arm around him. Even, to his embarrassment, felt the soft swell of her breasts.

Soon the tears dried up.
That's enough
, he told himself.
Enough tears for Zoey.
Right now Zoey was probably in Lucas's arms, kissing that creep. And he doubted very much that she was even sparing a moment's thought for him.

Strange what you learned about people. He would never have guessed that Zoey could be so cold-blooded.

And he would never have guessed that Claire could be so sympathetic.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said, looking up into her dark eyes. The first words spoken in a long time.

“Anytime, Jake,” she whispered.

Her mouth was so close to his that he could feel the words. So sweet to hear his name from her lips. So nice to be this close, to know that he wasn't really all alone.

Her lips were different from Zoey's. Fuller, softer, yet more forceful. It was she who kissed him, she who parted his lips with hers.

They had kissed once before, a long time ago, it seemed. Back then, he had been overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. Now it was as if all the life that had drained out of him came rushing back. And guilt wasn't even a memory.