else. He winks at me. The bells on the door jingle and we’re outside in the Monet painting again.
I reach into my pocket for the money to help pay for dinner. It’s the right thing to do, even if Scarlett would never offer to pay. I am reminded of the first day on the beach when she expected that the boys would drive her home the minute she asked.
“I should split this with you,” I say.
Andrew’s eyes light up.
“You don’t have to pay; I asked you out,” he says.
“But you should take it; it’s . . . fair.”
I want to show Andrew that I don’t believe he is required topay for me. I want things to start out equal between us.
Andrew takes the twenty and slides it into my jean pocket.
“I want to treat you,” he says. “That’s the nice thing to do.”
His fingers press against my hip bone and I take a breath. His index and middle finger linger against me. Something erupts in my stomach, maybe lower. I need to take in some air, but it catches a little in my throat.
“Thank—I mean, thank you.”
“Come on, Star Girl,” he says with a wink. “Let’s go; we should get there way before sunset.”
“That reminds me,” I say, stepping into the car. “I have to be back by around ten or so.” Mom has never given me a curfew, but she always checks for Scarlett around ten. “I have to help my mom early in the morning,” I say, thinking fast.
“With what?” Andrew asks, and we turn out of the fish pier, back onto Main Street.
“My sister’s going-away party,” I say. “It’s this big deal to my aunt Nancy.”
Oh crap. What if he knows Scarlett has an aunt Nancy? Okay, don’t panic. I can improvise.
“Wow, sounds annoying,” he says.
“You have no idea,” I say with a deep exhale. I hope he can’t sense my relief.
I cozy into my seat, but we don’t turn toward Nauset Light; we keep driving in the direction of Aunt Nancy’s house.
“We’re going to Nauset Beach? Not Nauset Light?”
“Yep.”
In a few blocks we’ll pass Aunt Nancy’s street. Laurel Street,Squire Court, and there it is: Shore Road. I peer down the lane only to see shadows cast by the long colonial street lamps flanking the sandy street. I wonder why people do that when they pass someone’s street that they know, look down it like that person might be standing there. I want to see if Andrew has ever felt the same way, but I decide that it’s probably better not to say every thought that goes through my mind.
But I do want to say that today I am sixteen years old. I want to share this with Andrew because I know he would be excited. It’s on the edge of my lips, but I know I can’t. Then I would have to admit I lied. Whatever, it’s not like we are going to start a relationship. It’s one date. It’s the Scarlett Experiment.
We drive past the beach guard booth, where they charge the tourists twenty bucks to get on the sand, but we don’t stop in the parking lot. We drive to a lane at the far end of the parking lot, designated for the outer beach, a part of Nauset you can go to only if you have a car with four-wheel drive.
“We’re going four wheeling?” I ask. I know Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve, but Scarlett definitely would.
We pull up to the guard booth for the outer beach campsites. “Campsite twelve is open,” the guard says. Andrew pulls ahead. “Is that okay?” he asks with a hint of worry in his voice.
The sand road lines the coast for miles. I must be making a funny face because Andrew pulls to the side of the lane. “I should have asked you, right? I’m so bad at this.”
“Bad at what?”
“You barely know me and I’m taking you to the outer beach. I could be a psycho.”
I scoot over in my seat, grip the door handle, and press myself against the window. I pretend I am screaming and trying to escape. Andrew laughs. It’s true, I wouldn’t normally do something like this. But that’s the point.
Besides, Scarlett vetted him.
“I’ll take the risk,” I say. I
I reach into my pocket for the money to help pay for dinner. It’s the right thing to do, even if Scarlett would never offer to pay. I am reminded of the first day on the beach when she expected that the boys would drive her home the minute she asked.
“I should split this with you,” I say.
Andrew’s eyes light up.
“You don’t have to pay; I asked you out,” he says.
“But you should take it; it’s . . . fair.”
I want to show Andrew that I don’t believe he is required topay for me. I want things to start out equal between us.
Andrew takes the twenty and slides it into my jean pocket.
“I want to treat you,” he says. “That’s the nice thing to do.”
His fingers press against my hip bone and I take a breath. His index and middle finger linger against me. Something erupts in my stomach, maybe lower. I need to take in some air, but it catches a little in my throat.
“Thank—I mean, thank you.”
“Come on, Star Girl,” he says with a wink. “Let’s go; we should get there way before sunset.”
“That reminds me,” I say, stepping into the car. “I have to be back by around ten or so.” Mom has never given me a curfew, but she always checks for Scarlett around ten. “I have to help my mom early in the morning,” I say, thinking fast.
“With what?” Andrew asks, and we turn out of the fish pier, back onto Main Street.
“My sister’s going-away party,” I say. “It’s this big deal to my aunt Nancy.”
Oh crap. What if he knows Scarlett has an aunt Nancy? Okay, don’t panic. I can improvise.
“Wow, sounds annoying,” he says.
“You have no idea,” I say with a deep exhale. I hope he can’t sense my relief.
I cozy into my seat, but we don’t turn toward Nauset Light; we keep driving in the direction of Aunt Nancy’s house.
“We’re going to Nauset Beach? Not Nauset Light?”
“Yep.”
In a few blocks we’ll pass Aunt Nancy’s street. Laurel Street,Squire Court, and there it is: Shore Road. I peer down the lane only to see shadows cast by the long colonial street lamps flanking the sandy street. I wonder why people do that when they pass someone’s street that they know, look down it like that person might be standing there. I want to see if Andrew has ever felt the same way, but I decide that it’s probably better not to say every thought that goes through my mind.
But I do want to say that today I am sixteen years old. I want to share this with Andrew because I know he would be excited. It’s on the edge of my lips, but I know I can’t. Then I would have to admit I lied. Whatever, it’s not like we are going to start a relationship. It’s one date. It’s the Scarlett Experiment.
We drive past the beach guard booth, where they charge the tourists twenty bucks to get on the sand, but we don’t stop in the parking lot. We drive to a lane at the far end of the parking lot, designated for the outer beach, a part of Nauset you can go to only if you have a car with four-wheel drive.
“We’re going four wheeling?” I ask. I know Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve, but Scarlett definitely would.
We pull up to the guard booth for the outer beach campsites. “Campsite twelve is open,” the guard says. Andrew pulls ahead. “Is that okay?” he asks with a hint of worry in his voice.
The sand road lines the coast for miles. I must be making a funny face because Andrew pulls to the side of the lane. “I should have asked you, right? I’m so bad at this.”
“Bad at what?”
“You barely know me and I’m taking you to the outer beach. I could be a psycho.”
I scoot over in my seat, grip the door handle, and press myself against the window. I pretend I am screaming and trying to escape. Andrew laughs. It’s true, I wouldn’t normally do something like this. But that’s the point.
Besides, Scarlett vetted him.
“I’ll take the risk,” I say. I
Similar Books
