The Orphans of Race Point: A Novel by Patry Francis

object rested on top of the bureau: her old copy of David Copperfield.
    “You didn’t think I’d really throw that in the harbor, did you?” Gus said, following her eyes. And suddenly Hallie felt ashamed of her impatience.
    He stood in the center of the room, holding a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
    “It’s way too early, and I wasn’t invited here,” she said. “I’m gonna go.”
    Gus stepped forward and kissed her forehead like a protective older brother. “I thought we were going for a bike ride.”
    Hallie turned her back while he changed, wondering if that chaste kiss had been her answer. She closed her eyes and touched the spot where he had kissed her head.
    “This place is basically an eat-and-sleep deal for me,” he said, reading her thoughts about the room. He pulled on his T-shirt. “Once I graduate, I’m gone.”
    Where? she wanted to ask. Gus Silva, who transformed the air in a room just by speaking her name, or resting his hands on his hips the way he had when he suggested a bike ride, was still a mystery to her.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking off the question.
    “Don’t be. I’m glad you came. Remember what I told you in the cemetery that day? I want you to know everything about me. And this, as it happens, is where I live.”
    “I love it,” Hallie said. How could she not love the room where he slept every night, the window that framed his first morning view? “I’m gonna take a rain check on the ride to Truro, though.”
    All she could think of was the words he’d said on the porch. He knew why she’d come. She was suddenly grateful that the dim light hid the color on her cheeks.
    Gus walked her to the door.
    Outside, she picked up the bike, but he reached out and touched her arm. “You can come back and get that later. I’ll walk you home.”
    She was about to say he didn’t need to do that, but his eyes, usually so full of energy, were calm and thoughtful.
    She leaned the bike against the house and started for the street while Gus fell in beside her silently, not quite close enough to touch. Still she felt his presence acutely, both as he was now in his familiar shorts and T-shirt, and as he’d been when she followed him into his dim bedroom—shirtless in his drawstring pajama bottoms.
    Halfway to her house, Gus stopped abruptly. “So you want to know why I didn’t kiss you last night?”
    “I haven’t really thought about it,” she said. The bay had just come into view.
    Gus laughed. “Now I know why you hate lying so much. You’re a total failure at it.”
    “Or maybe I just think honesty is really important.”
    “Admit it, then. The reason you showed up at the house of the living dead this morning is because you wanted to know how any kid in his right mind could turn you down.”
    “Don’t make me sound so pathetic! Or conceited! For one thing, I didn’t ask you to kiss me. Well, not exactly.” Hallie frowned. “Okay, maybe I did—but I won’t again. In fact, I wouldn’t kiss you now if you begged me—” She picked up her pace, taking the lead again.
    Gus grabbed her arm, and tugged her back to him—perhaps closer than he intended. They were eye-to-eye, and for the first time since the cemetery, there was nothing between them. “I hope you know that once I start kissing you, I’m never going to stop. All these great conversations we’ve been having? Forget it. And we better tell our friends not to call for about a year cause we’re gonna be too busy. Hell, I might even have to give up football, not to mention my great career at the A&P.”
    He took her by the shoulders and kissed her right there in the middle of the street. It was the shortest, gentlest kiss imaginable, but it pricked her, infected her, forever altered the colors of the landscape where she’d spent her whole life. And, yes, it answered the question that had driven her out of the house that morning.
    “God, Stuart was right,” Hallie said, putting her hand unconsciously to her