of beer, not even at Greg’s parentless pregraduation party in May. I was sure I wouldn’t enjoy the sensation of being out of control.
As everyone, including CeeCee and her girlfriends, held out plastic cups to be filled, I took several more steps away from the glowing group. I noticed then that they were all equally matched, the girls with their thick hair and the boys with their strong jaws. T.J. swiftly uncapped the flask and poured clear liquid into a cup, and Jacqueline laughed and kissed Macon on the cheek. What had I been thinking? Yes, I was technically an heir, but I was not a part of this crew.
“Where are you going, Miranda?” T.J. asked, glancing up at me midpour. He seemed insulted that I was walking out on his moment of stardom.
“Aren’t you going to drink?” Virginia asked, judgment in her voice.
“I’ll be back,” I fudged, determined now to track down Mom. I wanted to ask her why she hadn’t come to rescue me yet.
When I turned around, I got my answer. Mom was standing near the band, holding a glass of white wine. She waslaughing, and her face had a rosy tinge. And the person who was standing at her elbow and making her laugh was none other than T.J.’s father, Mr. Illingworth. I drew in a big breath, suddenly remembering how Mom had fled the docks yesterday. And then Delilah’s coy remarks today. Was there something my mother wasn’t telling me?
I couldn’t stand the kind of chaos that was happening in my head. I turned back and looked beyond the young heirs toward the beach, at the waves that swelled and broke onto the shore. The beach, I reasoned, was where I belonged—among the seashells and barnacles that neither laughed nor flirted nor judged. I could return to the party once my whirling thoughts settled.
So, as the wind billowed my skirt up, I made my way down the boardwalk steps and started across the sand. And the human sounds of glasses clinking and conversation were swallowed up by the ocean roar.
Five
DISCOVERIES
I wasn’t expecting to see the boy.
I had been walking along the beach for longer than I’d intended, trying to make sense of my interaction with T.J. and the image of Mom talking to Mr. Illingworth. The kids building sand castles and the couples frolicking in the water barely registered. I only noticed the shards of seashells and the cawing seagulls, and before long, that was all there was to see. As the water grew rougher and slammed into jagged rocks, the beach grew less populated, and I realized that The Crabby Hook and the boardwalk itself were quite a way behind me.
Which was why I was startled by the sight of a tall, tanned guy with dark blond hair striding toward me from the opposite end of the beach. He was carrying a bundle of rope and a fishing rod, the muscles in his arms visible under his fadedred T-shirt. He wore ragged carpenter pants that had been hacked off at the knee, and his sun-browned legs were as muscled as his arms. I guessed him to be around my age, but he did not look like someone the kids at the Heirs party would know.
For some reason, I stopped walking, my flats sinking into the sand. Behind the boy, the beach seemed to disappear into a well of fog, and I realized how alone I was. I felt a quick twist of fear and considered turning and racing back to the boardwalk. Then I chided myself; why was I getting so irrationally spooked lately?
“You lost?” the boy called, waving one arm at me.
“Not at all,” I replied defensively, squaring my shoulders. “I was just exploring.”
The boy came closer. “It’s not a great idea to go exploring by yourself on Siren Beach,” he said. His voice was deep but a little raspy, and his Southern accent was different from CeeCee’s and the others’ in a way I couldn’t quite define.
“Why?” I demanded, suddenly annoyed that this boy had appeared out of nowhere to break into my thoughts. I could feel my patience running low, like an uncharged battery. “Because of the ’sea
As everyone, including CeeCee and her girlfriends, held out plastic cups to be filled, I took several more steps away from the glowing group. I noticed then that they were all equally matched, the girls with their thick hair and the boys with their strong jaws. T.J. swiftly uncapped the flask and poured clear liquid into a cup, and Jacqueline laughed and kissed Macon on the cheek. What had I been thinking? Yes, I was technically an heir, but I was not a part of this crew.
“Where are you going, Miranda?” T.J. asked, glancing up at me midpour. He seemed insulted that I was walking out on his moment of stardom.
“Aren’t you going to drink?” Virginia asked, judgment in her voice.
“I’ll be back,” I fudged, determined now to track down Mom. I wanted to ask her why she hadn’t come to rescue me yet.
When I turned around, I got my answer. Mom was standing near the band, holding a glass of white wine. She waslaughing, and her face had a rosy tinge. And the person who was standing at her elbow and making her laugh was none other than T.J.’s father, Mr. Illingworth. I drew in a big breath, suddenly remembering how Mom had fled the docks yesterday. And then Delilah’s coy remarks today. Was there something my mother wasn’t telling me?
I couldn’t stand the kind of chaos that was happening in my head. I turned back and looked beyond the young heirs toward the beach, at the waves that swelled and broke onto the shore. The beach, I reasoned, was where I belonged—among the seashells and barnacles that neither laughed nor flirted nor judged. I could return to the party once my whirling thoughts settled.
So, as the wind billowed my skirt up, I made my way down the boardwalk steps and started across the sand. And the human sounds of glasses clinking and conversation were swallowed up by the ocean roar.
Five
DISCOVERIES
I wasn’t expecting to see the boy.
I had been walking along the beach for longer than I’d intended, trying to make sense of my interaction with T.J. and the image of Mom talking to Mr. Illingworth. The kids building sand castles and the couples frolicking in the water barely registered. I only noticed the shards of seashells and the cawing seagulls, and before long, that was all there was to see. As the water grew rougher and slammed into jagged rocks, the beach grew less populated, and I realized that The Crabby Hook and the boardwalk itself were quite a way behind me.
Which was why I was startled by the sight of a tall, tanned guy with dark blond hair striding toward me from the opposite end of the beach. He was carrying a bundle of rope and a fishing rod, the muscles in his arms visible under his fadedred T-shirt. He wore ragged carpenter pants that had been hacked off at the knee, and his sun-browned legs were as muscled as his arms. I guessed him to be around my age, but he did not look like someone the kids at the Heirs party would know.
For some reason, I stopped walking, my flats sinking into the sand. Behind the boy, the beach seemed to disappear into a well of fog, and I realized how alone I was. I felt a quick twist of fear and considered turning and racing back to the boardwalk. Then I chided myself; why was I getting so irrationally spooked lately?
“You lost?” the boy called, waving one arm at me.
“Not at all,” I replied defensively, squaring my shoulders. “I was just exploring.”
The boy came closer. “It’s not a great idea to go exploring by yourself on Siren Beach,” he said. His voice was deep but a little raspy, and his Southern accent was different from CeeCee’s and the others’ in a way I couldn’t quite define.
“Why?” I demanded, suddenly annoyed that this boy had appeared out of nowhere to break into my thoughts. I could feel my patience running low, like an uncharged battery. “Because of the ’sea
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