Blaze said ruefully, “I don’t think we’re going to catch up to the Duet very soon.”
Beth could think of worse fates. “Well, here. Try drinking chocolate. That might go down even better than blueberry.”
The party goers were throwing confetti over Con and Anne as if they were a bride and groom. Anne was sobbing, Con laughing. Anne was passing from hug to hug like a basketball in a close game.
All that friendship.
Molly had never been a part of anything like that. Friendship rode the boat like a passenger, larger than all rest.
Confetti symbolized everything in Molly’s life for which she had had high hopes…and then nothing came of her hopes. New Year’s Eve, or Memorial Day parades—handfuls of confetti tossed high—beautiful aloft—paper rejoicing.
But for Molly the confetti was always on the pavement, to be ground underfoot by people who did not care.
Nobody hugged Molly. Gary sprang out to hug Anne like the rest, and wish her a fond farewell. Molly was left alone in the dark cabin, as the sun set and the wind strengthened.
Molly’s jealousy grew, and became a thing as large and as real as the friendship she yearned for.
Jeremiah Dunstan had taken all the film he reasonably could of these kids partying. Until something interesting occurred, he didn’t want to waste any more footage. How interesting would it be to look at them all milling around talking and eating?
He sat on a seat by the rail, staring back at the wake. Smooth waves of high water spread behind them like a forked dragon’s tail. A small motorized dinghy came up toward them. Jere could make out a boy at the tiller and a girl—
Look at that hair! Thick, long red hair, blowing around like a cloud, now lashing the girl’s face, now tugged out behind, now caught in the boy’s hand as he gestured while talking.
The dinghy pulled up close. The boy shouted, “I’m trying to deliver her to your party. She missed the boat.”
Jere nodded and went to tell the captain, who nodded back, and let the engine idle so the girl could be brought aboard.
Jere found her stunning. More real than Anne, this girl was sunburnt and freckled, and laughing, her wide, happy mouth puckered in embarrassment and pleasure. That great hair didn’t settle down now that the wind was gone, but stayed up, teased into a halo by the elements.
Who is this? Jere thought. I have to know!
Con and Gary helped the girl into the boat and he suddenly realized that something dramatic had happened, and he, the cameraman, had missed it entirely. He felt like asking the girl to get back in the dinghy and start over.
Her name appeared to be Beth, or Rose, or both, or maybe Rose was her last name. She was definitely popular; they were hugging her as much as they’d hugged Anne. Or maybe this was just a hugging crowd.
Probably another graduating senior headed for parts unknown. He would ask. He would definitely ask.
Chapter 13
IF BETH HAD HAD a choice, she would have drifted all night in the dark with Blaze. She would have moved to Arizona with him, gone to the Arctic with him, pioneered on the moon with him. However, it seemed premature to announce this to Blaze, as boys were apt to vanish at the first syllable of serious intent.
Blaze was telling her about how this had been the longest summer of his entire life. The family situation certainly seemed complex. His mother’s corporation had promoted her to a position in California; his father’s corporation had promoted him to a position in Dallas. While his parents tried to figure out what they were going to do, Blaze got accepted at a college in New York City, and his uncle and aunt in Westerly offered to take him for the summer while his parents moved, wherever they ended up going. In the end, each parent had taken each promotion and now Blaze had no real home at all.
Beth could not imagine going off in the world without having an actual place to go back to. She would always have Westerly, and in some way, it would always have her.
“Going to college in New York City?” she repeated. She would have to introduce him to Kip. Kip would love it. A handsome boy from Arizona to escort her her first week in town.
But would I love that? Beth asked herself. My daydream come true. Finally, around the corner, there he is, the perfect boy. So I take him on board the Duet and who does he have his duet with? Kip, of course. A better, brighter choice than me, anyhow. Who won’t be hundreds of miles away, but right there, in the same town. Maybe even the same dorm.
Beth’s heart sank. Probably in the same classes, too, she thought, majoring in the same subject…
“So what will you be doing?” he asked. They all asked that. Tiredly she told him about the community college and waitressing. All her thoughtful genes won out, and Beth said, “I’ll have to introduce you to a girl on board, one of my best friends, who’s going to be in New York for college, too.” Beth steeled herself. “You’ll love her,” she added. Beth tried to remember Kip’s real name, since Kip intended a fresh, nickname-less start to college. “Katharine Elliott is her name,” she finished, feeling saintly.
“Hey, that’d be great. I’d love that. There’s only one problem, Beth. You can climb aboard, but I have to return this boat to the boat rental. Calvin didn’t seem like the type to laugh if one of his boats never returned.”
“Oh, if that isn’t just like life!” she said crossly. “Always boats to be returned to boat rental. I hate details. Life should be free of niggly little details. You should just be able to sail on to the next happy event without worrying about boats getting returned.”
He was grinning at her, and the thin features seemed momentarily hers, as if she owned them, or had blended with them. They talked about life’s annoyances for a moment. “What are you going to study in college?” he asked abruptly.
He thought I was interesting, Beth Rose mused. He liked what I said about boat returns. But now I’ll tell him what I’m studying and he’ll laugh at me, not with me. If only she could answer something thrilling like astronomy or automobile design. “I kind of want to teach sixth grade,” she said, “so I guess I’ll study a little bit of everything.”
“I loved sixth,” Blaze told her. “All the good stuff is in sixth. Ancient history and Stonehenge. I remember when we got to Egypt we built pyramids out of sugar cubes. We were bringing shoe boxes to school so we could make dioramas about early agriculture.”
Beth was delighted. “I loved all that,” she confessed. “It was the last time I was really terrific in school. My shoe boxes were always the best.”
“Not mine,” Blaze said. “I’m pretty good at grades, but I haven’t hit anything I want to do for a lifetime. I’m hoping to find the shoe box of my dreams at college.” He stood up, started the engine on the first rip of the cord, and set a course for the Duet. Beth no longer felt like shouting a conversation. Why had he broken off their talk like that? Of course, it was probably just that he was fulfilling his promise to get her to the Duet. But maybe she had gotten boring, and he was lying about sixth grade pyramids and couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
“Here we are, Beth. Throw that guy the line right behind you, okay?”
She grabbed the rope he was pointing to. It was odd, throwing a rope (which partially stayed with you) instead of a ball (which left completely). It was caught by, of all people, Con Winter, who whipped it efficiently around a cleat. The Duet idled, its engines quieter, and the little skiff banged gently against the tubby sides of the bigger boat.
“Hi, Con,” Beth said. “The ice cream has melted away. If you wanted it solid, you should have waited for me.”
Con just laughed. “The Duet waits for nobody,” he informed her. “Sailing times are never flexible. Those who are tardy make separate voyages. Welcome aboard.” He reached a hand down for her. Beth was frightened. The skiff felt awfully tippy. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to step, or anything to grip with her other hand.
Gary materialized next to Con with two more hands out, and with a push from Blaze she was up and over. The boy
s enjoyed it, but Beth had never felt so awkward nor so heavy.
“Con?” she said. “Can Blaze come to the party, too?”
“Sure, the more the merrier. Let me ask the captain if we can just tie his boat and let it follow us in the wake.”
Con darted off. Blaze, surprised and pleased, waited. Gary whispered in her ear, “So who’s this, Beth?”
“This is my friend, Blaze,” she said, making introductions. “Gary—Blaze.”
The dark, sleek boy on board half-saluted the tanned, sharp-edged boy sitting in the bobbing skiff. It seemed to Beth they were eyeing each other very warily. Perhaps they’re both in love with me, she thought, and they’re checking out the competition.
She laughed to herself. It was just dark, and they had to narrow their eyes to see each other.
“Captain says no problem,” Con informed them. “He saw the skiff; he’s going to radio Calvin Rentals to tell him this one’ll be in later.”
They retied the skiff in another location and yanked Blaze aboard. Con said that any friend of Beth’s was a friend of his, which was certainly news to Beth. Beth began introducing Blaze to everybody. It was enormous fun. Blaze was good-looking, and completely unknown. Where Beth could have found a boyfriend from Arizona in the few hours since they had seen her last was something they were dying to know. In honor of the occasion, Blaze put his shirt back on and accepted a Coke.
“Blaze, this is my friend Anne,” began Beth Rose, “the party’s for her. And this is my friend Susan. And my friend Mike. And my—”
Molly? What was she doing here? They had not invited her! They would never invite her! It was unthinkable to have Molly—who had tried to get Con to abandon Anne when she was pregnant—who had tried to get Anne falsely arrested only last New Year’s Eve—
Beth wanted to throw her right overboard.
But there she stood, smiling at Blaze, her little head with its cute new haircut turned to the side, so that her earrings danced. Elfin. Adorable.
She’s a troll, Beth Rose thought grimly, waiting under a bridge to capture the innocent.
But Beth had introduced everybody else as “my friend so and so.” She couldn’t change the pattern, it would be too cruel, too obvious. She didn’t want Blaze to think she could be mean to people she didn’t like.
“And this is my friend Molly,” said Beth unwillingly.
Chapter 14
MATTHEW O’CONNOR FELT AS if he had lost both sight and hearing. Maybe muscle coordination as well. Around him a party whirled—there was shouting, dancing, laughing, talking. He felt like somebody who had spent too long on a carnival ride, and got off with a distorted sense of balance, and was staggering across the grass, trying to get hold of his own brain.
The music was like a headache, punching him.
He could not bring himself to look in Emily’s direction. She was standing all hunched over, as if she expected to be struck by something—or had been already. But she’s the one who struck me! Matt thought. Throwing away my ring?
Everywhere he turned, his eyes seemed to land on diamonds—stars in the sky, sparkles in the water, gleams off ice in glasses, glitters from other girls’ earrings.
Matt had loved choosing that ring, selling his car to pay for it; he had loved the tiny velvet box it came in and the feel of Emily’s hand when he slid it on. He had felt powerful, like a rescuer. Now he felt limp, like a failure.
Emily had had a difficult childhood. Her parents weren’t very nice people, and it was hard to find anything good to say about either one. He used to marvel at how sweet, generous Emily could have sprung from two mean, thoughtless manipulators like the Edmundsons. When the parents decided on a divorce, they virtually abandoned Emily in the process. Emily had ended up living with Anne for quite a while, and Matt had wanted her to stay with his own family, a suggestion his mother squashed in a hurry.
Through it all she remained sweet and funny and amiable. Matt had thought that nothing could shake Emily; that she could go through hell smiling.
So now he had a great job, would be away for a few months, and she was acting as if their lives together were over.
Thrown away his ring! Why didn’t she just give it back to me? he thought.
He imagined a date in which his girl handed him back his ring. I would have thrown it away myself, he realized. Or thrown it at her.
Emily pointed suddenly, her hand white in the dark. “There’s Con. With Gary and Mike and those new boys. You wanted to tell the guys all about your fabulous job, Matt. Here’s your chance. Con is dying for a change of subject, he’s sick of hearing about Anne’s terrific job, so tell him about your terrific job instead. Let them all be jealous of you for a while.”
He shrank from the bitterness in her voice.
How much of my proposal of marriage was because I wanted to be the Good Guy who rescues the Girl? And now she’s better; she’s living with her father; she’s come to terms with both her parents and she doesn’t need rescuing. The pressure’s off. I can go do my own thing instead.
But Emily had never put pressure on him. If anything, she was the one who had been reluctant to get engaged to start with. He had pressured her.
Confused thoughts rose and collapsed in his head like patterns in a kaleidoscope.
He knew he was wrong and yet he knew he was right.
“Emily,” he said thickly, “we have to talk.”
Her pixie face was white and pinched in the shadows. “You mean you have to talk me into seeing things your way,” she said. She walked away from him.
He didn’t follow her. If they couldn’t talk alone, they certainly couldn’t talk in front of all these people. Matt, who loved crowds and parties, felt swamped in voices and personalities. There were too many people; he could not distinguish them, he could not even care about them. All he wanted was for this not to be happening.
Emily slipped into the press of kids. How involved with their own lives they were! They had their own problems and jobs and families and loves and hates—they neither knew nor cared about Emily’s. Nobody would notice that she and Matt were silent in the dark. Nobody would peer down at her left hand to see that her ring was gone. It was nobody’s responsibility to see that she had a good time at Anne’s party, and nobody would notice if she didn’t.
If I want to talk this out, she thought, I have to grab a friend, haul her away, hand her the facts on a platter.
But the only person she could really talk to was Matt himself.
Why am I being so horrible to him? she thought. I rejoice for Anne going abroad. I rejoice for Kip getting in the school she worked so hard for. Why can’t I rejoice for Matt, because all his skills took him in the direction he’s best at?
Matt’s perfectly right, it isn’t the end of the world; we can still be engaged, we can still get married someday.
She walked up to the counters. The real food had not yet been brought out. There was still the chips, dips, vegetable sticks, crackers, cheese, and peanuts. Emily felt if she did not have solid food pretty soon she would faint. She took another soda. She had had so much carbonated junk tonight she was one big bubble.
It’s because I am the one left behind, she thought. The person going has a destination. The person left just sits and mopes. There is nothing worse than being the one left behind.
She heaved a huge, painful sigh.
She would have to go over to Anne’s house tomorrow, after Anne had left for the airport. She would have to say to Mrs. Stephens, “Hi, my diamond ring is in your grass. I brought my brush and comb, do you mind if I comb your whole yard looking for it?”
Chapter 15
NOT ONE GIRL ON board the Duet had ever enjoyed what Beth Rose Chapman was enjoying at that moment. Not even Anne, unarguably the most lovely girl who ever went to Westerly High. Not even Molly, who had gone out with an awful lot of boys. Not Kip, nor Emily, nor Susan, nor Lynda.
For Beth Rose was surrounded by three boys.
Gary, whom she had dated
a year before, was definitely back and definitely interested.
Blaze, whom she had picked up on the dock just that afternoon, was also present and interested.
And Jere, whom they had written off as some employee carrying a camera, was inching forward, getting closer.
And Beth, like any girl flirting with three boys who flirted with her first, was having the time of her life. The girls were angry and hurt. It was not fair that they should have none and Beth Rose three. They almost forgot their envy of Anne, as they stared at Beth.
Beth was sitting on a bench, her knees crossed, and the soft cloth of her yellow dress flowing around her. On her right sat Gary, whom she was facing, and into whose eyes she laughed. Above her perched Blaze, sitting on the brass rail, elbow on knees and face in hands, so he was hunched right down between Beth and Gary. And sitting cross-legged at her left, sprawled on the glossy deck, was Jere.
“It’s like she’s holding court,” said one girl.
“Somebody go bother them with potato chips and celery sticks,” said another girl.
“Somebody tell that band to start playing,” said a more intelligent one. “She can only dance with one at a time.”
“Good idea. And we’ll get to see which one she cares about most, too. That’s the one she’ll dance with.”
The others knew better. Beth Rose wouldn’t do the asking. The boy who danced with her would simply be the one who asked first. Lynda suggesting placing bets but nobody would bet; it made them too irritable. Right at that moment, no matter how wonderful her own future looked, there was not a girl on the deck who would not have exchanged places with Beth Rose.
The combo—two guitars and a drummer—set up on the open upper deck and began playing the current number three on the charts. The party abandoned the chips and dip, and the soda and peanuts, and swarmed up the narrow, almost vertical, metal stairs to dance in the moonlight.