Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (9 page)

             
Bobby finally showed up, and with his arrival, Mathew and he took off. The rest of us decided that Hot Dog on a Stick was calling. Long before I got there, I could smell the hot dogs and the crisp tang of fresh lemon in the air. Smells have a way of pulling me back in time: to people or places or moments. I remembered last year when mom had brought Pat and I over for the day and the three of us had gorged ourselves here. I ordered a Cheese-on-a-Stick and a large lemonade.

             
“You always have that,” Pat said with a snicker.

             
“I know it’s better than mom’s grilled cheese.”

             
“Not a chance. Hot Dog on a Stick, you do a hot dog, dumbass,” Pat stated as he ordered a hot dog and a lemonade.

“
Trade you a bite for a bite,” I offered.

“No way,
” he said pulling his hot dog closer to him. “Cooties.”

I knew full well
, if it were just the two of us, he would have been all over it. While we sat on the surf wall and ate, no one said much. I kicked my legs and stared at the people. The people watching along this portion of the beach was pretty amusing. A lot of transient and real earthy, beachy people hung here. Most were hippies. The smell of patchouli oil and marijuana would come in whiffs. Many of them were drinking who-knows-what out of paper bags. We assumed it was some kind of liquor. Some wore bathing suits; some had on tie-dyed skirts, beads, and headbands; most had long hair. Sometimes they would be in groups playing musical instruments and asking for money. It was sort of a mini-carnival of independent souls, although some of the guys were creepy. With the group, I felt safe to stay and watch.

Chapter 11

Everyone spent the majority of their time at our house or on the beach in front of our house. There was a bathroom close by and cold drinks in a number of coolers. The adults stuck to the patio while all of us kids, in varying age groups, drifted between the beach, ocean, pool room, a small convenience store for candy, and, of course, Hot Dog on a Stick. Mathew and Bobby spent most of their time together, off on their own. I hadn’t been invited to join them, nor did I ask. I saw them briefly at meals or on the beach. They weren’t rude, just evasive.

I spent time with the other teens
: playing in the ocean; lying out in the sun slathered in Sea and Ski or Tropicana, the smell of it radiating from our browning bodies; and, pool table tournaments on the third floor during the day and at night. We would walk to the store for something different to do. We people-watched from the sea wall.

We
built a bonfire in front of the house on the sand every night. We took turns combing the beach for driftwood and stacked it up in preparation during the day. We took long walks along the beach, searching for shells and sea glass. Mathew and Bobby were usually at the bonfires, and Mathew would play while the firelight danced off his hair and guitar. Sometimes the whole group would try to sing along, which was pretty bad. I liked it better when just Mathew sang.

We had
s‘mores a couple of nights: roasting marshmallows to perfection and gently squishing them in between graham crackers layered with Hershey’s chocolate. We would laugh when someone caught their marshmallow on fire and couldn’t get it out prior to it being charcoal.

The week went fast and
, although I hadn’t spent much time with Mathew, I told myself it didn’t matter. There were too many kids around not to find fun. Our parents dropped us all off at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk one day and I rode the Big Dipper with Melanie twelve times. We rode the merry-go round and threw brass rings at the clown’s mouth until we got to where we could make the bell ring most of the time. We ate fried food until we felt stuffed, and then topped it off with cotton candy.

By the time we got picked up and back to the beach house
, it was dark and we decided to meet back on the third floor to play pool. Melanie, Sheryl, Pat, and I got there first. Pat was pulling the balls out of the pockets and getting ready to rack them up.

“
This was such a fun day,” Pat said.

“It was
. I can’t believe we rode the Big Dipper so many times,” I said, looking at Melanie.

She’d been
insistent on us getting off and getting right back in line, like a round robin.

“I love that ride
,” she said. “The ratcheting up, up, and then flying down the other side, the twists and turns making it feel like you might fly off.

              Eventually everyone showed up; I was out on the balcony watching the ocean when Mathew and Bobby put in an appearance. I heard the slider open, but I didn’t turn around, hoping. I sighed to myself when Mathew stepped up next to me and put his hands on the railing.

             
“Have a good day today?” he asked.

             
“Yeah, it was a lot of fun.”

             
“Ocean’s pretty even in the dark,” he said.

He
stepped over to the big, manual spotlight and ran the beam down the beach and over the water, illuminating a small portion of the ocean at a time, allowing us to see the waves break in the dark, and the foam swirl around and onto the beach.

             
I didn’t answer and kept looking out. I had tried to convince myself that I wasn’t hurt by his distance, but I was.

             
“Are you mad?” Mathew asked.

“No.
What is there to be mad about?” I said calmly.

             
“I don’t know, you just seem mad.”

             
Then why don’t you just kiss me?

             
“Mathew, do you remember what I said to you at your house?”

             
He looked over at me and thought for a minute.

             
“Be cool?”

             
“Yeah,” I said.

             
“So?”

             
“I guess you didn’t get it.”

             
“Get what?” he asked, confused.

             
“Never mind.”

             
I wasn’t going to explain how the two of them had left me out. I’d just end up sounding whinny. Bobby opened the slider and joined us.

             
“What’s up?” Bobby asked

             
“Watching the waves,” I answered.

             
Mathew would look at the ocean, and then out of the corner of my eye, I would catch him looking at me. I wouldn’t turn to look at him. The silence became uncomfortable. Bobby no doubt could feel the tension as just as quickly as he came out he went back inside. Mathew moved closer to me, leaning his shoulders and head over the railing, his face toward me so that I couldn’t help but look at him.

“Don’t lean like that
,” I scolded.

             
“Why?”

             
“The railing's sort of rusted at the bottom. I don’t want you to fall.”

             
He looked down and saw where the ocean air had corroded the railing between the balcony and the metal rail. He leaned farther.

             
“Don’t. I mean it,” I glared at him.

             
His blue eyes, even bluer, with his now-tan skin, stared back at me. His head was cocked to the side, his hair falling at an angle.

             
“Don’t be mad, Morgan.”

             
“I told you, I’m not mad,” I said looking away.

             
I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, which frustrated me further. I took a deep breath to help fight them back.
Damn you, Mathew
I thought
just go
.

             
“Meet Bobby and me down the beach tomorrow night for a bonfire. We’ll be in front of the blue house with white shutters, close to the water. It’s about five houses up from here.”

              “I know where it is,” I interrupted.

             
“When you see the fire start, we’re there.”

             
He waited.

             
“Please come,” he begged.

He ran his hand down my arm and onto my hand that was still resting on the rail
. He squeezed it and then turned, opening the slider. I heard the pool balls crack when he opened the door. The crack reminded me of the feelings that shot through me when he touched me. He shut the door, leaving me alone. I stood and watched the ocean, attempting to bury my emotions. I heard the door open downstairs. I looked down to see Mathew and Bobby leaving the house. They walked down onto the beach and headed in the direction of the condos. I watched them walk into the dark, hearing them talking softly. At the blue house with white shutters, Mathew turned around. He saw me still on the balcony.

“Come
,” he yelled.

Bobby gave him a shove
and Mathew stumbled in the sand, but didn’t fall. I smiled and went inside to where I hoped a game of pool and people would distract me.

             
I swore to myself throughout the following day I wouldn’t go. I was pissed off about how they had avoided me all week, and I was especially tweaked at Mathew. When Bobby wasn’t around, he could at least be friendly. We usually would talk, and this time he hadn’t said more than a few words to me.

My vision of Mathew and me at the beach had been blown to smithereens
; I had thought we would hang together at least some of the time. I stayed away from the other kids most of the day. The majority of the group was hanging out on the beach in front of Hot Dog on a Stick—including Mathew and Bobby. I figured if I avoided them maybe I wouldn’t be tempted to meet them later at their bonfire. Melanie and I did some shell and glass hunting in the opposite direction.

             
“You like him, don’t you?” Melanie asked as I picked up a pretty round rock.

             
“Who?” I asked, inspecting the rock, trying to dodge her question.

             
“Mathew.”

             
“No, I don’t like him. I mean I like him as a friend, if that’s what you mean.”
Shit
I sounded phony even to myself.

             
“You don’t have to tell me. You just get different when he’s around.”

             
“I don’t mean to,” I said.

             
“I know.”

             
I wondered how obvious my attraction was to most of the kid group. As it got closer to dusk, I found I was telling myself more frequently that I couldn’t go, shouldn’t go.
That would show Mathew.
“Please come” I heard him say in my mind over and over. Instead I played several rounds of pool with Pat and my dad, but I wasn’t playing very well.

             
“Not like you to let us beat you so badly,” my dad teased

I
kept looking in the direction of the bonfire location, nothing. Maybe it was more of Mathew’s bullshit, his way of leading me on. Finally, about nine o’clock, a bonfire started.
No, Morgan
I told myself and turned back to the pool game.

             
“Eight ball, right pocket,” my dad called as he chalked up his stick and shot.

The ball
rolled, hit the pocket straight on and sank.

             
“Damn,” I cried, “you beat me again.”

             
“Head's not in the game, girl,” he said, patting my head.

             
“I’m going to go meet some of the kids at a bonfire.”

“Where?” m
y dad asked, surprised.

Usually it was right in front of our place.

              “Right there,” I said, pointing.

             
It was close, but still far enough away that you couldn't tell who was there.

             
“Who’s there?” he asked.

             
“Some of the kids. I’m not exactly sure who will show up.”

             
“Okay, have fun. Pat, rack 'em up,” he said.

             
I left the house and walked down the beach and up to the bonfire. Mathew and Bobby were alone. Mathew had his guitar in his lap and he smiled up at me.

             
“Morgan, ‘come’ sit down,” Bobby teased, shouting
come
like Mathew had shouted.

             
I stood, hesitating, and Mathew shot Bobby a cautionary glance.

             
“He’s teasing, Morgan, sit down,” Mathew said, patting the sand next to him.

             
I sat down where he said, the three of us forming a semi-circle around the fire. I crossed my legs over one another and put my hands toward the fire.

             
“Nice. You gonna play?” I asked, looking at the guitar. “Or have you already?”

“I have, but I can play
some more. Want a beer?” Mathew offered.

             
“A beer? Where did you get beer?”

             
“We got one of the hippie chicks to buy it for us,” Bobby replied.

             
“I don’t want one,” I said.

             
“Oh, come on, just a try. One beer won’t do anything,” Mathew said.

             
I wanted to be part of them, to feel like I was welcome, maybe even sought out by Mathew. I wanted to be close to Mathew, so I took the Miller that was being offered.

             
“Thanks,” I said.

             
My dad allowed me to have sips of his beer on occasion, so I knew what it tasted like. It was easier for us to get the hard stuff so that's what Gayle and I usually drank. I took a sip, and they looked at each other and laughed. I felt like I was the brunt of a joke between them. I put the beer can down and got up angrily. I turned from the fire and started back down the beach. Mathew came after me and grabbed my arm.

“Don’t go. I’m sorry, we weren’t trying to be mean. Come back and talk to us for a while,” he said sincerely.

             
I clenched my jaw and let him walk me back to the fire.