Blaze was with him, as were Teddy and Lance.
"Well, isn't this a nice surprise," Marcus drawled, tightening his grip.
"Let me go!" she cried, hating the sudden panic in her voice.
"Let her go," Will added from behind her. His voice was unwavering. Serious. "Now."
Marcus seemed almost amused. "You should watch where you're going, Ronnie."
"Now!" Will demanded, sounding angry, moving into view.
"Take it easy, Richie Rich. She slammed into me--I was just keeping her from falling. And by the way, how's Scott doing? Has he been playing with any bottle rockets lately?"
To Ronnie's surprise, Will froze. Smirking, Marcus turned his gaze back to her. He squeezed her arms harder before finally releasing her. As Ronnie took a quick step back, Blaze lit a fireball, her expression nonchalant.
"I'm glad I was able to keep you from stumbling," Marcus said. "It wouldn't look good to be all bruised when you go to court on Tuesday, would it? You don't want the judge to think you're violent, in addition to being a thief."
Ronnie could only stare at him, speechless, until Marcus turned away. As they walked off, she saw Blaze toss him the fireball, which he caught with ease and threw back to her.
Seated on the dune outside her house, Will remained quiet as she recounted everything that had happened since she arrived, including the events at the music store. When she finished, she twisted her hands together in her lap.
"And that's all of it. As for the shoplifting I did back in New York, I don't even know why I took that stuff. It wasn't like I needed it. It was just something to do because my friends were doing it. When I went to court, I admitted everything because I knew I was wrong and that I wasn't ever going to do it again. And I didn't--not there, and not here. But unless the charges are dropped or Blaze admits what she did, I'm not only going to get in big trouble here, but I'm going to be in trouble back home, too. I know it sounds crazy and I'm sure you don't believe me, but I swear I'm not lying."
He covered her clasped hands with his own. "I believe you," he said. "And trust me--nothing surprises me about Marcus. He's been crazy since he was a kid. My sister had him in a class and she told me that the teacher once found a dead rat in her drawer. Everyone knew who did it, even the principal, but they couldn't prove anything, you know? And he's still up to his usual tricks, but now he has Teddy and Lance to do his bidding. I've heard some scary things about him. But Galadriel... she used to be the nicest girl. I've known her since I was a little kid, and I don't know what's been going on with her lately. I know her mom and dad got divorced, and I heard she took it really hard. I don't know what she sees in Marcus, though, or why she's so intent on ruining her life. I used to feel bad for her, but what she's doing to you is wrong."
Ronnie suddenly felt tired. "I have to go to court next week."
"Do you want me to come?"
"No. I don't want you to see me standing in front of the judge."
"It doesn't matter--"
"It will if your mom finds out. I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me."
"Why do you say that?"
Because I saw the way she was looking at me earlier, she could have said. "It's just a feeling."
"Everyone feels like that when they first meet her," he assured her. "Like I said, once you get to know her, she'll loosen up."
Ronnie wasn't so sure. Behind her, the sun was dropping, turning the sky a bright shade of orange. "What's going on with Scott and Marcus?" she asked.
Will stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Do you remember that night at the festival? After he did his show, Marcus seemed all hyped up about something, so I tried to keep my distance from him. It was like he was scanning the crowd, and when he spotted Scott, he got this... weird look on his face, like he found what he needed. Next thing I know, he had balled up his cup of French fries and hurled it at him."
"I was there, too, remember?"
"But remember what he said? It was odd. He asked if Scott was going to shoot a bottle rocket at him. And when he said almost the same thing to you just a little while ago, you sort of froze."
Will looked away. "It's nothing," he insisted, squeezing her hands. "And I wouldn't have let anything happen to you." He leaned back, propping himself on his elbows. "May I ask you a question? Totally different subject?"
Ronnie lifted an eyebrow, unsatisfied by his answer but deciding to let it go.
"Why is there a piano behind a plywood wall at your house?" When she seemed surprised, he shrugged. "You can see it through the window, and the plywood wall doesn't exactly match the rest of the interior."
It was Ronnie's turn to look away. She disengaged her hands and buried them in the sand. "I told my dad that I didn't want to see the piano anymore, so he put up the wall."
Will blinked. "You hate the piano that much?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Because your dad was your teacher?" She looked up in surprise as Will went on. "He used to teach at Juilliard, right? It only makes sense that he'd teach you to play. And I'd be willing to bet that you were great at it, if only because you have to love something before you can hate it."
For a grease monkey slash volleyball player, he was pretty perceptive. Ronnie dug her fingers deeper into the sand, where the layers felt cool and heavy.
"He taught me to play from the time I was able to walk. I played for hours, seven days a week, for years. We even did some composing together. It's what we shared, you know? It was something for just the two of us, and when he moved out of the apartment... I felt like he hadn't only betrayed the family. I felt like he'd betrayed me personally, and I was just so angry about all of it that I swore I'd never play or write another song again. So when I first got down here and saw the piano and heard him playing it every time I was around, I couldn't help feeling that he was trying to pretend that what he'd done didn't matter. Like he thought we could just start over. But we couldn't. You can't undo the past."
"You seemed friendly with him the other night," Will observed.
Ronnie slowly pulled her hands from the sand. "Yeah, we've been getting along better in the last few days. But that doesn't mean I want to play again," she said.
"It's not my business, but if you were that good, then you're only hurting yourself. It's a gift, right? And who knows? Maybe you could go to Juilliard."
"I know I could. They still write me. They've promised me they'll make room if I change my mind." She felt a surge of irritation.
"Then why don't you go?"
"Does it matter that much to you?" She glared at him. "That I'm not just who you thought I was? That I have some special talent? Does that make me good enough for you?"
"Not at all," he said. "You're still the person I thought you were. From the first moment we met. And there's no way you could ever be a better fit for me."
As soon as he'd said it, she felt ashamed of her outburst. She heard the sincerity in his tone and knew he meant what he'd said.
She reminded herself that they'd known each other for only a few days, and yet... he was kind and smart and she already knew he loved her. As if sensing her thoughts, he sat up and scooted closer. Leaning in, he kissed her softly on lips, and she was suddenly certain that she wanted nothing more than to spend hours and hours wrapped in his arms, just like this.
22
Marcus
Marcus watched them from a distance. So that's the way it's going to be, huh?
Screw it. Screw her. It was time to party.
Teddy and Lance had picked up the booze, and people were already arriving. Earlier, he'd seen a family of vacationers packing up their piece-of-crap minivan with their ugly dog and even uglier kids at one of the houses not three or four down from Ronnie's own piece-of-crap house. He'd been around long enough to know that the next rental wouldn't start until tomorrow, after the cleaners came, which meant that all he had to do was get inside and the place would be theirs for the night.
Not so hard, considering he
had the key and the security code. Vacationers never locked the door when they went to the beach. Why should they? It's not like they ever brought anything but food and maybe a few video games to the beach, since most of them stayed for only a week. And the out-of-town owners--probably from someplace like Charlotte and tired of fielding calls from the security company when the idiots who rented the place set off the alarm in the middle of the night--had been kind enough to post the code right above the security pad in the kitchen. Smart. Real smart. With enough patience, he'd always been able to find a house or two to host a party, but the secret was not to abuse their opportunities. Teddy and Lance always wanted to party in these kinds of places, but Marcus knew that if he did it too often, the management companies would get suspicious. They'd send the managers by to check things out, they'd tell the police to make frequent rounds, and they'd warn the vacationers and owners. Then where would they be? Stuck down at Bower's Point, like they usually were.
Once a year. Once a summer. That was his rule, and that was enough, unless he burned the house down afterward. He smiled. Do that and the problem was solved. No one would even suspect there'd been a party at all. There was nothing like a big fire, because fires were alive. Fires, especially big ones, moved and danced and destroyed and devoured. He remembered setting fire to a barn when he was twelve and watching it burn for hours, thinking he'd never seen anything more incredible. So he'd lit another one, this time at an abandoned warehouse. Over the years, he'd set a bunch of them. There was nothing better; nothing made him higher than the power he felt with a lighter in his hands.
But he wouldn't do that. Not tonight, because his past wasn't something he wanted either Teddy or Lance to know about. Besides, the party was going to be something. Booze and drugs and music. And girls. Drunk girls. He'd have Blaze first and then maybe a couple of others after that, if he got Blaze ripped enough to pass out. Or maybe he'd hook up with some dumb little hottie, even if Blaze was sober enough to realize what was happening. That might be fun, too. Oh, he knew she'd make a scene, but he'd just ignore her and have Teddy or Lance kick her out. He knew she'd come back. She always came back, begging and crying.
She was so damn predictable. And she whined all the damn time.
Not like Miss Tight Little Body just down the beach.
He'd been trying hard not to think about Ronnie. So she didn't like him, so she wanted to spend time with Richie Rich, the brake shop prince. She probably wasn't going to put out anyway. She was probably a frigid little tease. Even so, he couldn't figure out where he'd gone wrong with her or how she'd seemed to see right through him.
He was better off without her. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone, which made him wonder why he continued to watch her or cared in the slightest that she was hanging out with Will.
Of course, that made the whole thing a little more interesting, if only because he knew all about Will's weak spot.
He could have some fun with that. Just like he was going to have fun tonight.
23
Will
For Will, the summer was passing way too quickly. Between working at the garage and spending most of his remaining free time with Ronnie, the days seem to fly by. As August approached, he found himself growing increasingly anxious at the thought that in a few weeks she'd be heading back to New York and he'd be off to Vanderbilt.
She'd become part of his life--in many ways, the best part. Even though he didn't always understand her, their differences somehow seemed to make their relationship stronger. They had argued over his request to accompany her to court, which she had adamantly refused, but he remembered her surprise when she found him waiting for her outside the courthouse with a bouquet of flowers. He knew she was upset that the charges had not been dropped--her next court appearance was scheduled on August 28, three days after he'd leave for college--but knew he'd done the right thing by showing up when she accepted the bouquet with a shy kiss.
She surprised him by getting a part-time job at the aquarium. She didn't tell him about her plans beforehand or ask if he could put in a good word for her. Frankly, he hadn't even realized she'd wanted a job. When he'd asked her about it afterward, she'd explained, "You're working during the day, and my dad and Jonah are making a stained-glass window. I needed something to do, and besides, I want to pay for the lawyer myself. It's not like my dad has a lot of money." When he picked her up after her first day of work, however, he noticed her skin had an almost greenish tint to it. "I had to feed the otters," she confessed. "Have you ever stuck your hand into a bucket of dead, slimy fish? It's disgusting!"
They talked, endlessly. There didn't seem to be enough time in the world to share everything they wanted to. Sometimes it was simply talk to fill the quiet moments--when they debated their favorite movies, for instance, or when she told him that even though she was a vegetarian, she still hadn't decided whether eggs or milk counted. But at other times the conversation turned serious. She told him more about her memories of playing the piano and her relationship with her dad; he admitted that he sometimes resented the fact that he felt a responsibility to be the kind of person his mom insisted he be. They talked about her brother, Jonah, and his sister, Megan, and speculated and dreamed about where they'd end up in life. For him, the future seemed tidily planned: Four years at Vanderbilt, and after graduation he'd gain some experience working for another firm before coming back to run his dad's business. Yet even as he recited the plan, he could hear his mom's voice whispering her approval, and he found himself wondering whether it was what he really wanted. As for Ronnie, she admitted that she wasn't sure what the following year or two would bring. The uncertainty didn't seem to frighten her, though, which made him admire her even more. Later, when he reflected on their respective plans, he was struck by the realization that of the two of them, she was more in charge of her own destiny than he was.
Despite the cages that had been built to guard the turtle nests up and down the beach, raccoons had burrowed beneath the wire mesh and destroyed six nests. As soon as Ronnie learned what happened, she insisted they take turns guarding the nest behind her house. There was no reason for both of them to be there all night, but they spent most nights holding each other, kissing, and talking quietly until long after midnight.
Scott, of course, couldn't understand it at all. More than once, Will was late for practice and he'd arrive to see Scott pacing in agitation, wondering what had gotten into his friend. At work, in the rare instances that Scott asked how things were going with Ronnie, Will didn't volunteer much--he knew Scott wasn't asking because he was truly interested. Scott did his best to keep Will's attention focused on the upcoming beach volleyball tournament, usually pretending either that Will would come to his senses soon or that Ronnie didn't exist.
Ronnie had been right about his mom, though. While she hadn't said anything directly to him about his new relationship, he read her disapproval in the way she had to force a smile at the mention of Ronnie's name and in the almost formal demeanor she adopted when he brought Ronnie to the house. She never asked about Ronnie, and when he said something about her--about how much fun they'd had or how smart she was or how she understood him better than anyone--his mom would say things like, "You're going to be at Vanderbilt soon, and long-distance relationships are hard" or would even wonder aloud if he thought they were "spending too much time together." He hated when she said those things. It was all he could do not to snap at her, because he knew she was being unfair. Unlike practically everyone else Will knew, Ronnie didn't drink or curse or gossip, and they hadn't gone any further than kissing, but he knew intuitively those things wouldn't matter to his mom. She was locked into her prejudices, so any attempt to change her opinion of Ronnie would be pointless. Frustrated, he started making excuses to stay away from the house as much as possible. Not only because of the way his mom felt about Ronnie, but because of the way he was beginning to feel about his mom.
And about himself, of course, for failing to call her on it.
r /> Other than Ronnie's preoccupation with her upcoming court appearance, the only blemish on their largely idyllic summer was the continuing presence of Marcus. Though they'd mostly been able to avoid him, it was sometimes impossible. When they did run into him, Marcus always seemed to find a way to provoke Will, usually with a reference to Scott. Will felt paralyzed. If he overreacted, Marcus might go to the police; if he did nothing, he felt ashamed. Here he was, dating a girl who'd stood in court and admitted her guilt, and the fact that he couldn't summon the courage to do the same had started to torment him. He'd tried talking to Scott about coming clean and going to the police, but Scott had rejected the idea. And in his own indirect way, he never let Will forget what he'd done for him and his family that horrible day when Mikey died. Will admitted Scott been heroic, but as the summer wore on, he began to wonder whether a previous good deed meant a later bad one should be completely overlooked--and, in his darkest moments, whether he could bear the true cost of Scott's friendship.
One night in early August, Will agreed to take Ronnie out to the beach to hunt for spider crabs.
"I told you I don't like crabs!" Ronnie squealed, grabbing hold of Will's arm.
He laughed. "They're just spider crabs. They won't hurt you."
She squinched up her nose. "They're like creepy, crawly bugs from outer space."
"You're forgetting that doing this was your idea."
"No, it was Jonah's idea. He said it was fun. Which serves me right for listening to someone who learns about life by watching cartoons."
"I would think someone who feeds slimy fish to otters wouldn't be bothered by a few harmless crabs on the beach." He swept his flashlight across the ground, illuminating the fast-moving creatures.
She scanned the sand frantically, lest another crab dart near her foot. "First off, there aren't a few harmless crabs. There are hundreds of them. Second, if I'd known that this is what happens to the beach at night, I would have made you sleep by the turtle nest every night. So I'm a little angry at you for hiding this fact. And third, even though I work at the aquarium, it doesn't mean that I enjoy having crabs run over my feet."