warm night air. I crossed the small parking lot, passing two old, battered station wagons, surfboards attached to racks on top, and started up the street toward the wharf, still barefoot. I could do that without catching stares—walk barefoot in summer, between the beach and my destination. Everyone could in our town.
Another perk of living in this place, I’d always thought.
With my flip-flops swinging in one hand, I combed my fingers through my hair with the other, trying to untangle it. The air was so thick with heat it was already starting to dry. I went around the bend, the wharf now in sight.
And with it, Handel Davies.
He stood on the corner in front of Levinson’s, in the glow of the streetlamp, smoking a cigarette. Staring out to the water, his expression serious, like something was on his mind, and it wasn’t something good. He wasn’t alone. Another boy, big, stocky, whose name I thought was Mac, stood next to him, also taking drags of a cigarette. All muscle and brawn. Two more boys I knew by sight, but whose names I couldn’t remember, were leaning against the wall nearby. One of them was tall and wiry, the look on his face unfriendly. Everything about his features twisted so as to seem angry, hair buzzed short on the bottom and longer on the top, all wrong, only highlighting his lack of bulk and his air of menace. The other was short, rectangular, and expressionless, like he was auditioning for the role of bodyguard. My mind searched for their names again but came up with nothing. I wondered if they’d been at the party that night in the dunes. It had been too dark for me to see their faces clearly.
Instinctively, my eyes went to their boots but came up with nothing.
I stopped walking. Unsure whether to go right on by or make a quick left. Duck behind Mr. Morgan’s cobbler shop and cut through the alleyway behind it. Handel hadn’t seen me yet. None of those boys had. They were all staring out at the water, saying nothing, some unspoken pact to avoid conversation.
But I couldn’t put off meeting Handel forever.
I decided to go straight.
My feet took me forward, still barefoot, shins still caked with sand, though not as much as before. My hair was drier now, but still wet enough that the ends sent tiny streams down my skin, and my bathing suit top was too damp to put on my shirt just yet. When I got close, close enough that my footsteps slapping the sidewalk were audible, Handel turned his head, and with Handel, so did all the others. Michaela’s warnings about him pounded my insides like waves crashing into the beach. It was one thing to gush and dream about a handsome bad boy paying me attention, and another to come face-to-face with one of the reasons he got that reputation in the first place.
Handel didn’t smile when he saw me. All he said was, “Jane.”
Before I could answer, I heard my name again, this time from across the street, and I turned.
It was Seamus. Seamus and Tammy. Together.
If I wasn’t so unnerved by Handel, seeing those two hanging out would have made me happy. I would have better registered how great it was that Seamus was hanging out with one of my friends. But I couldn’t. Not now. I was all about Handel.
“Hey,” Tammy said once they reached me. She held a cup in her hand, and a spoon. Ice cream from Nana’s down the block. Southern Apple Pie, her favorite. Tammy always ordered the same thing. She glanced at Handel, then at me. I could tell it was going to challenge her to be nice if I introduced them.
“I was just out for ice cream and I ran into Seamus,” she said, which explained why she was with him.
Seamus seemed nervous, but the flustered kind. Like possibility was just around the corner, like this could very well be his chance with Tammy. “I was headed home from Slovenska’s.” He looked down at my feet. “Been down at the beach tonight?”
“Yeah. I went for a walk.”
Tammy’s ice cream was melting. “It’s late, Jane. You didn’t
Another perk of living in this place, I’d always thought.
With my flip-flops swinging in one hand, I combed my fingers through my hair with the other, trying to untangle it. The air was so thick with heat it was already starting to dry. I went around the bend, the wharf now in sight.
And with it, Handel Davies.
He stood on the corner in front of Levinson’s, in the glow of the streetlamp, smoking a cigarette. Staring out to the water, his expression serious, like something was on his mind, and it wasn’t something good. He wasn’t alone. Another boy, big, stocky, whose name I thought was Mac, stood next to him, also taking drags of a cigarette. All muscle and brawn. Two more boys I knew by sight, but whose names I couldn’t remember, were leaning against the wall nearby. One of them was tall and wiry, the look on his face unfriendly. Everything about his features twisted so as to seem angry, hair buzzed short on the bottom and longer on the top, all wrong, only highlighting his lack of bulk and his air of menace. The other was short, rectangular, and expressionless, like he was auditioning for the role of bodyguard. My mind searched for their names again but came up with nothing. I wondered if they’d been at the party that night in the dunes. It had been too dark for me to see their faces clearly.
Instinctively, my eyes went to their boots but came up with nothing.
I stopped walking. Unsure whether to go right on by or make a quick left. Duck behind Mr. Morgan’s cobbler shop and cut through the alleyway behind it. Handel hadn’t seen me yet. None of those boys had. They were all staring out at the water, saying nothing, some unspoken pact to avoid conversation.
But I couldn’t put off meeting Handel forever.
I decided to go straight.
My feet took me forward, still barefoot, shins still caked with sand, though not as much as before. My hair was drier now, but still wet enough that the ends sent tiny streams down my skin, and my bathing suit top was too damp to put on my shirt just yet. When I got close, close enough that my footsteps slapping the sidewalk were audible, Handel turned his head, and with Handel, so did all the others. Michaela’s warnings about him pounded my insides like waves crashing into the beach. It was one thing to gush and dream about a handsome bad boy paying me attention, and another to come face-to-face with one of the reasons he got that reputation in the first place.
Handel didn’t smile when he saw me. All he said was, “Jane.”
Before I could answer, I heard my name again, this time from across the street, and I turned.
It was Seamus. Seamus and Tammy. Together.
If I wasn’t so unnerved by Handel, seeing those two hanging out would have made me happy. I would have better registered how great it was that Seamus was hanging out with one of my friends. But I couldn’t. Not now. I was all about Handel.
“Hey,” Tammy said once they reached me. She held a cup in her hand, and a spoon. Ice cream from Nana’s down the block. Southern Apple Pie, her favorite. Tammy always ordered the same thing. She glanced at Handel, then at me. I could tell it was going to challenge her to be nice if I introduced them.
“I was just out for ice cream and I ran into Seamus,” she said, which explained why she was with him.
Seamus seemed nervous, but the flustered kind. Like possibility was just around the corner, like this could very well be his chance with Tammy. “I was headed home from Slovenska’s.” He looked down at my feet. “Been down at the beach tonight?”
“Yeah. I went for a walk.”
Tammy’s ice cream was melting. “It’s late, Jane. You didn’t
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