jaws of the red-eyed reptile gaped open, ready to consume its passengers at the ride’s end.
Carl caught up with Murphy at the fountains in front of the Ice Casino. The rink was closing up for the night, exiting hockey players hobbling under the weight of equipment bags, sticks over their shoulders like shepherds’ crooks.
Murphy leaned against the railing. “So, chief, we all set?”
“Still waiting for the word from the mom that the kid got home tonight. Otherwise, we’re good.”
Carl led Murphy to the Tiki Bar at the end of the pier. The place had some years on it. They took a table inside, watching the wind off the Sound ruffle plastic palms on the outdoor patio. A shivering waitress in shorts stumbled over reciting the Tiki specials. She seemed disappointed in their simple orders of sandwiches and sodas.
While they waited for food, Carl sketched the layout of the Carmody house on a napkin. Murphy had read Alex’s entire file and bought the snacks and drinks Meg specified. There wasn’t much more to cover.
Over Carl’s head, Murphy glanced up at the activity in the bar and laughed. “Ah, I get it,” she smiled. “Sandwich and a song.”
He turned and shrugged. “You know me well enough by now.”
The machine was set up onstage, a few names already in the queue. Carl got up to add his to the list. A few songs in, when they had nearly finished their meals, the overzealous emcee called his name, teasing out the song’s opening chords. Murphy dropped her napkin into her lap with a flourish. “You’re on, Carl. I just wish your clients could see you now.”
“Might be bad for business,” he laughed. On his way to the makeshift stage, he passed a waiter, who offered a fist. “‘Oceanus.’ The B side. Cool, dude.” Carl obliged the employee, then grabbed the microphone to serenade a crowd in which the Tiki Bar staff outnumbered patrons:
Oh mighty river from which all tears flow; this libation of suppliant prayer.
Show us your pearls, buried treasures, your secrets; reveal what truths linger there.
ALEX
“Come on, Al. You owe me.”
Evan was beyond desperate on the chaise longue next to Alex, pleading. They were hanging in his grandparents’ garage for the last time before the pair returned from Florida. Snowbirds returning to the nest, he had texted earlier. Tonight’s crew included the spray-tanned Larke—the same Larke who had torpedoed Alex’s house party.
Evan had come through Saturday night, picking her up at the cemetery around midnight—creeped out that she’d stayed there alone, like Shana had been. Alex hadn’t bothered explaining to him that once she’d grown accustomed to the dark and the silence, it felt kind of peaceful—the kind of quirky, out-of-your-comfort-zone thing she and Cass would have done together. With Cass, she somehow ended up doing things she never would have imagined. Cass had a way of making everything irresistible.
Like marine-science camp the summer before eighth grade. Standing next to Cass on the promenade reading the sign-up sheet, Alex had wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. “Yuck. Too much work. Can’t we just hang on the beach?”
“It’ll be cool. Look. It says real marine biologists teach it.”
“So what.” Alex eyed Cass over her sunglasses.
“Last year’s teacher was really hot. My cousin told me.”
“OK, but don’t you realize we’ll probably be the only eighth graders?”
“Yes. Which means we get to drive the boat the last day of class.”
“What boat?”
“The one they borrow from the college. It has a glass bottom, so we can see all the cool stuff in the water.” Cass dug in her bag for a pen. “Do what you want, Alex Carmody, but I’m signing up.”
And so, as usual where Cass was concerned, Alex caved. Also as usual, she was glad she had. The soft summer mornings flew as the girls worked ankle-deep at the shoreline, drawing water samples and matching real plants and animal life to images on the
Carl caught up with Murphy at the fountains in front of the Ice Casino. The rink was closing up for the night, exiting hockey players hobbling under the weight of equipment bags, sticks over their shoulders like shepherds’ crooks.
Murphy leaned against the railing. “So, chief, we all set?”
“Still waiting for the word from the mom that the kid got home tonight. Otherwise, we’re good.”
Carl led Murphy to the Tiki Bar at the end of the pier. The place had some years on it. They took a table inside, watching the wind off the Sound ruffle plastic palms on the outdoor patio. A shivering waitress in shorts stumbled over reciting the Tiki specials. She seemed disappointed in their simple orders of sandwiches and sodas.
While they waited for food, Carl sketched the layout of the Carmody house on a napkin. Murphy had read Alex’s entire file and bought the snacks and drinks Meg specified. There wasn’t much more to cover.
Over Carl’s head, Murphy glanced up at the activity in the bar and laughed. “Ah, I get it,” she smiled. “Sandwich and a song.”
He turned and shrugged. “You know me well enough by now.”
The machine was set up onstage, a few names already in the queue. Carl got up to add his to the list. A few songs in, when they had nearly finished their meals, the overzealous emcee called his name, teasing out the song’s opening chords. Murphy dropped her napkin into her lap with a flourish. “You’re on, Carl. I just wish your clients could see you now.”
“Might be bad for business,” he laughed. On his way to the makeshift stage, he passed a waiter, who offered a fist. “‘Oceanus.’ The B side. Cool, dude.” Carl obliged the employee, then grabbed the microphone to serenade a crowd in which the Tiki Bar staff outnumbered patrons:
Oh mighty river from which all tears flow; this libation of suppliant prayer.
Show us your pearls, buried treasures, your secrets; reveal what truths linger there.
ALEX
“Come on, Al. You owe me.”
Evan was beyond desperate on the chaise longue next to Alex, pleading. They were hanging in his grandparents’ garage for the last time before the pair returned from Florida. Snowbirds returning to the nest, he had texted earlier. Tonight’s crew included the spray-tanned Larke—the same Larke who had torpedoed Alex’s house party.
Evan had come through Saturday night, picking her up at the cemetery around midnight—creeped out that she’d stayed there alone, like Shana had been. Alex hadn’t bothered explaining to him that once she’d grown accustomed to the dark and the silence, it felt kind of peaceful—the kind of quirky, out-of-your-comfort-zone thing she and Cass would have done together. With Cass, she somehow ended up doing things she never would have imagined. Cass had a way of making everything irresistible.
Like marine-science camp the summer before eighth grade. Standing next to Cass on the promenade reading the sign-up sheet, Alex had wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. “Yuck. Too much work. Can’t we just hang on the beach?”
“It’ll be cool. Look. It says real marine biologists teach it.”
“So what.” Alex eyed Cass over her sunglasses.
“Last year’s teacher was really hot. My cousin told me.”
“OK, but don’t you realize we’ll probably be the only eighth graders?”
“Yes. Which means we get to drive the boat the last day of class.”
“What boat?”
“The one they borrow from the college. It has a glass bottom, so we can see all the cool stuff in the water.” Cass dug in her bag for a pen. “Do what you want, Alex Carmody, but I’m signing up.”
And so, as usual where Cass was concerned, Alex caved. Also as usual, she was glad she had. The soft summer mornings flew as the girls worked ankle-deep at the shoreline, drawing water samples and matching real plants and animal life to images on the
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