down over our planning. They
always seemed to affect me more than Michael, and he’d often
mention how red my face would turn over our scheming. And how we
schemed. Should one of us ask her to take a walk? Did we dare try to
kiss her? Michael said he wanted to try to bring Wendy to the pump
house to ‘do it;’ I said no way, that wouldn’t be
classy at all. In truth, I’d had the same idea, even if I
wasn’t entirely clear on all the mechanics involved if I were
to try to ‘do it’ myself. Those things could be figured
out when I came to them.
The next time Wendy showed up, a week or so later, we made more of an
effort. We grabbed badminton racquets from the back closet in the
cottage, and the three of us swatted a shuttlecock through the
settling dusk by the lakeside. Wendy, laughing, lobbed the bird out
into the water, and Michael, ever eager to please, rolled up the legs
of his jeans to wade out and fetch it.
“So are you going to run next year or not?” she asked me
as my brother tiptoed into the water.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “I haven’t
decided.”
“You should make a list of pros and cons. That’s what my
mom always has me do when I can’t decide something. Is there
something about track you really don’t like?”
I pondered it. “Not that I can think of.”
“Are you any good? Do you win races?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I won a couple races last year.”
She smiled. “Sounds like a pretty easy choice to me.”
I figured this exchange—and the smile that completed it—had
given me an edge in the unspoken battle with my brother. I decided
I’d wait for darkness to fall and take a seat next to Wendy by
the fire. When the time was right (and her father wasn’t paying
attention) I’d ask her if she’d like to go for a walk. I
didn’t make any plan for after that. I didn’t want to
assume anything; really I just wanted to talk to her more. But my
plans were crushed when, as I came back from fetching a sweatshirt
for Kathleen, I saw Mike lean down to say something into Wendy’s
ear. She shrugged and nodded, then hopped up and followed him as he
sauntered away along the water’s edge.
My throat went tight as I watched them go, and I looked down and
pawed at the sand with my foot. Teddy saw it. Kathleen saw it. The
adults, laughing among themselves up on the deck, saw nothing. My
sister patted at a spot on the blanket next to her.
“Come here, kid,” she said, showing some uncharacteristic
sympathy. I sank down next to her and let my head droop. “Just
because she went off with him doesn’t mean anything, okay?
Someone’s really going to think you’re a catch someday.”
Her kindness, even if sincere, did little to elevate my mood, and I
kept looking over my shoulder down the beach. Nothing. My only
consolation was that they’d gone opposite the direction of
Little Jib River and the pump house; at least my refuge wouldn’t
be sullied by the thought of the two of them in there doing whatever
it was they’d gone off to do. I looked down the beach again and
again, and Teddy punched my arm and let me sneak a couple swallows of
his beer.
My father was shoveling sand over the fire by the time I finally gave
up waiting for them to come back. I went inside alone, got myself
ready for bed, turned out the light and climbed into my bunk. I
waited for what seemed like a very long time before I heard the
creaking old floorboards in the hall and the squeak of our bedroom
door. I listened as Mike got into his bed below me, and let another
minute pass before I brought myself to speak.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well what?”
I swallowed. “Did you do it?”
“No.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“No. I didn’t kiss her.”
“Did you do anything?”
“Just shut up about it, okay? We didn’t do anything. She
went home like three hours ago.”
Three hours? I sat up. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I took a walk on the beach. That’s all.”
I thought about this, and
always seemed to affect me more than Michael, and he’d often
mention how red my face would turn over our scheming. And how we
schemed. Should one of us ask her to take a walk? Did we dare try to
kiss her? Michael said he wanted to try to bring Wendy to the pump
house to ‘do it;’ I said no way, that wouldn’t be
classy at all. In truth, I’d had the same idea, even if I
wasn’t entirely clear on all the mechanics involved if I were
to try to ‘do it’ myself. Those things could be figured
out when I came to them.
The next time Wendy showed up, a week or so later, we made more of an
effort. We grabbed badminton racquets from the back closet in the
cottage, and the three of us swatted a shuttlecock through the
settling dusk by the lakeside. Wendy, laughing, lobbed the bird out
into the water, and Michael, ever eager to please, rolled up the legs
of his jeans to wade out and fetch it.
“So are you going to run next year or not?” she asked me
as my brother tiptoed into the water.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “I haven’t
decided.”
“You should make a list of pros and cons. That’s what my
mom always has me do when I can’t decide something. Is there
something about track you really don’t like?”
I pondered it. “Not that I can think of.”
“Are you any good? Do you win races?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I won a couple races last year.”
She smiled. “Sounds like a pretty easy choice to me.”
I figured this exchange—and the smile that completed it—had
given me an edge in the unspoken battle with my brother. I decided
I’d wait for darkness to fall and take a seat next to Wendy by
the fire. When the time was right (and her father wasn’t paying
attention) I’d ask her if she’d like to go for a walk. I
didn’t make any plan for after that. I didn’t want to
assume anything; really I just wanted to talk to her more. But my
plans were crushed when, as I came back from fetching a sweatshirt
for Kathleen, I saw Mike lean down to say something into Wendy’s
ear. She shrugged and nodded, then hopped up and followed him as he
sauntered away along the water’s edge.
My throat went tight as I watched them go, and I looked down and
pawed at the sand with my foot. Teddy saw it. Kathleen saw it. The
adults, laughing among themselves up on the deck, saw nothing. My
sister patted at a spot on the blanket next to her.
“Come here, kid,” she said, showing some uncharacteristic
sympathy. I sank down next to her and let my head droop. “Just
because she went off with him doesn’t mean anything, okay?
Someone’s really going to think you’re a catch someday.”
Her kindness, even if sincere, did little to elevate my mood, and I
kept looking over my shoulder down the beach. Nothing. My only
consolation was that they’d gone opposite the direction of
Little Jib River and the pump house; at least my refuge wouldn’t
be sullied by the thought of the two of them in there doing whatever
it was they’d gone off to do. I looked down the beach again and
again, and Teddy punched my arm and let me sneak a couple swallows of
his beer.
My father was shoveling sand over the fire by the time I finally gave
up waiting for them to come back. I went inside alone, got myself
ready for bed, turned out the light and climbed into my bunk. I
waited for what seemed like a very long time before I heard the
creaking old floorboards in the hall and the squeak of our bedroom
door. I listened as Mike got into his bed below me, and let another
minute pass before I brought myself to speak.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well what?”
I swallowed. “Did you do it?”
“No.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“No. I didn’t kiss her.”
“Did you do anything?”
“Just shut up about it, okay? We didn’t do anything. She
went home like three hours ago.”
Three hours? I sat up. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I took a walk on the beach. That’s all.”
I thought about this, and
Similar Books
