Swim That Rock (17 page)

“Who could be calling at this hour?” My mom heads over to the phone, and I want to tell her not to pick it up, that it’s a crank call, a salesman . . . anything.
Just don’t pick up the phone!
I’m frozen in my seat.

My mom is real quiet on the phone, just listening, and I’m sure this is the end for me.
I’m going to jail.

She hangs up the phone and carefully walks back over to the table, like she’s afraid the floor might crack open and she’ll fall through.

“It’s Gene.” Her eyes are red and tight with concern. “That was his sister, Ginny. He’s gotten worse. The infection has spread through his bloodstream and . . .” Her hand goes up and covers her mouth. Her face contorts into a knot.

“I thought he was coming home.”

“That’s what we all thought, but they’re not sure he’s strong enough to fight it.”

“What are you saying? That he could die? Who says he’s not strong enough?” The room is spinning.

“The doctors . . . nobody. Nobody says he’s not strong enough. Gene will be fine. Gene will be fine.” My mom keeps repeating this over and over, like she’s in some sort of trance.

I run up to my room, slam the door, and fall onto my bed, covering my face with my hands. I picture Gene on his boat, pulling the rake, looking strong and healthy. I hold that image in my mind for as long as I can.

Sleep overtakes me.

I sleep all day.

It’s 4 a.m. . . . It’s 4 a.m. . . .
I bolt out of bed in a panic, the alarm still echoing in my head. My feet settle on the cold floor as I get my bearings.
Why am I up at four?

Now I remember.
Today is the Barrington Beach opening, and I’m gonna make it there after all.

I get dressed and take the stairs down into the kitchen. Through the window I can see my mom, Trax, and Robin going through the motions. The regulars are already in their seats, gulping down coffee and fueling up for the big day.

I rush around and, still fixing my shirt, grab two gallons of water, two loaves of bread from the pantry, and two large cans of beef stew. I remember to grab a can opener and throw it all in a large canvas bag.

“Where you going with all that?” Robin stares at the bag in my hand as she bangs through the double doors.

“Me? This? It’s my lunch. It’s going to be a long day,” I say, hefting the bag.

“Are you working for Dave Becker today?”

“Yeah, sort of a last-minute thing,” I lie.

“Is he coming in? I haven’t seen him in years.” She checks her hair in the reflection of the fridge.

“Ah, no. He doesn’t eat breakfast. I’m meeting him at the dock.” I leave the bag at the back door and head toward the dining room.

I squeeze past Trax and swipe a couple Danish and three bananas from behind the glass case next to the register.

“Some morning, huh, Skipper?” Trax lifts his glasses and wipes the sweat from his brow with his rolled-up shirtsleeve.

“It’s the big day. Where’s Darcy?”

“She’s just a kid, Jake. Your mom’s not going to have her come in at this hour.”

“Just a kid?” I grunt. “I’m just a kid, and I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you live here. That doesn’t count.” Trax studies the grill and counts the orders with his finger. “You want any breakfast?”

“No, thanks, Trax. I gotta run.”

I duck out from behind the counter, shove a Danish in my mouth, and use my back to push through the double doors. As I bend down to pick up my bag, a pair of black Converse sneakers step into view.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” She has her arms crossed just like my mom does when she’s angry with me.

“Do what?” I try to go around her, but she keeps sidestepping and blocking my way.

“You’re going to work the beach today.” Darcy is stabbing her finger into my chest as she stands on the tips of her toes, trying to make eye contact as I look away. “You’re taking Gene’s boat, and you’re going out there by yourself.”

My eyes dart toward the double doors.

“Aha!” She says, bouncing on her toes. “I knew it.” She grabs my shirt by the collar and pulls me down toward her. “Well, I got news for you, Stretch; I’m going with you.”

“What?” For a millisecond the idea sounds pretty cool. Me and Darcy out on the boat together . . . but then I think of Gene and George and how they got hurt and how I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to her too. “You can’t come with me, Darce.”

“I may not know much about quahogging, but if I can handle working in this place, I can handle counting a few quahogs.”

I take Darcy by the arm and lead her out the back door so we can talk without being overheard. We stop short by the streetlight near the seawall.

“I have to do this alone. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“That is so lame. You know we’re all in this together.”

“Look, Darcy, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Even lamer.” She’s rolling her eyes at me.

“All right, here’s the deal. When I’m out there, I have to be totally focused, and with you on board, who knows what I’ll be thinking about? Plus, there aren’t any girls out there.”

“Oh, my God! Did you just say that?” Darcy is walking in circles, talking to herself. “He did. He just said there are no girls out there. No
girls
!”

“Darce?”

She circles back around and comes at me like a tiger, eyes flashing. “Now, you listen to me, I’m not just any girl. I’m the girl that’s going to help you save this diner. You don’t know what life was like for me before this place. You don’t know . . .” Big pools of water are welling up in her eyes, and she keeps poking her finger into my chest.

“I do know.” I slowly reach out and rub her arm. I can feel the rippled scars through her sweater. Darcy shudders slightly and looks at me, her eyes red and wet.

“Close your eyes,” Darcy says, her voice quiet and small.

“What?”

“Just close your eyes.”

I do as I’m told. I hear the sweater’s zipper and the rustling of clothes. I nervously start talking, eyes still shut. “My mom told me your idea about the cabaret. I think it’s great.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, my mom is so excited about it. I haven’t seen her this excited about anything in a while. She’s been in a slump forever, and your idea totally pulled her out of it.”

“Good. Okay, now . . . open your eyes.”

“Whoa.”

That’s all I can say. Darcy shivers in the cold morning air, eyes wide, watching my face. She’s wearing a tank top. Her pale skin glows softly in the light of the streetlamp. My eyes sweep down her arm, tracing each contour. The scars pull and stretch across her skin, reminding me of a partially deflated balloon. It’s different and scary and like nothing I’ve ever seen, but it isn’t ugly.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Darcy takes my hand and brings it toward her arm. My hand is stiff and robotic, and it doesn’t feel like a part of me, but Darcy keeps looking into my eyes, and I begin to relax. I let myself go, and my hand gently settles on her skin. Her eyes close, and her mouth goes tight as she breathes in deeply. I start to pull my hand away, but she takes hers and holds it there, and I let her. We stay like that for several long seconds.

“You’re the first.” She smiles, opening her eyes.

“The first?”

“The first person I’ve ever let touch my arm.”

“It’s cool,” I say like a total idiot, trying to grab the words back.

“You’re cool.” Darcy punches my shoulder. “Okay, show’s over.” She quickly pulls on her long-sleeve shirt and sweater, but her smile remains. “So you’re really going to do this?”

“You mean go work the beach?” I ask, surprised at how easily she changed the subject. “Yeah, I have to do this. I have to do it for Gene, I have to do it for the Riptide, for my dad . . .”

“And for you,” she adds.

“Yeah, and for me.”

Darcy straightens up and takes a deep breath through her nose, making her rosy nostrils flare slightly. “All right, Stretch, you go do what you gotta do. I’ll stay here and help your mom get ready.”

“Thanks, Darcy.” I hoist my bag over my shoulder and head around the side of the house toward my bike. I toss the canvas bag into the metal basket on the front handlebars and swipe my foot at the kickstand.

“Jake!” I turn around and Darcy slams into me, almost knocking me over. She has me in a bear hug. She throws her head back to look up at me. “You’re gonna be great out there, you know.” She pulls away and wags her finger. “Just don’t get hurt.”

“Okay.” I’m in shock as Darcy reaches up and yanks my head toward hers. She kisses me quickly and runs back to the kitchen door. “Okay.”

Wow.

I get on my bike and feel like I could ride the Tour de France.

It’s still dark, and the lights on Water Street glow in the morning mist. I’m trying to remember all the things Gene told me about the beach. Where to dig, how much pole he was going to use, when to switch to the mud . . . all that stuff, but my mind keeps drifting back to Darcy Anne Green.
Got to focus.

“Whoa, watch it!” I look up just in time to swerve my bike out of the way and almost run into a telephone pole. “Geez, Jake, where are you going at this hour?” Johnny Bennato is standing on the sidewalk with a newspaper rolled up under his arm.

“Oh, hey . . . sorry.” I wheel my bike back to where he’s standing. “I’m going to the beach. Aren’t you going to be out there?” I ask, catching my breath.

Johnny squints at his watch. “Man, someone’s got you going out pretty early. Sunrise isn’t till five fifty-eight. The DEM is going to be out there real thick, so no one’s starting before then.” He leans into the telephone pole and scratches his back. “Who’re you working for?”

“Nobody. I’m going out there by myself, in Gene’s boat.” Suddenly I wish I hadn’t said that. Doubt is creeping into my mind. I’m starting to feel like this isn’t such a good idea after all. I forgot about the DEM being out there. What if they recognize me?

“You going out yourself? In Gene’s boat?” Johnny is scratching his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. Good for you, Jake, good for you.”

“Yeah, it’s my first time without Gene, and I got some figuring out to do. His engine is real old and finicky. I usually flood it.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Not good. He has a bad infection. But he’ll pull through.”

“Gene’s strong; he’ll be all right.” He slaps me lightly with his rolled-up paper. “You’re gonna slay ’em, Jake.”

“Thanks, Johnny. Good luck today.” I push my bike back out onto the road, and I can hear Johnny whistling to himself as I pedal toward Barrington.

I arrive at Gene’s and walk my bike up his shell driveway. His house is dark, and his truck looks lonely as it stares out at the water, like a dog waiting for its owner to come back. The Hawkline sits in the moonlight, tethered to the dock.

I move down the ramp with a wheelbarrow filled with everything I need — gas, lunch, drinking water, a knife, and some tools. The ramp is slippery with the morning mist, and the wheelbarrow almost sends me into the river. I think,
Wow, if I can’t get the gas on board safely, how the heck am I going to work for twelve hours at the beach?
I get to the end of the dock and lift the gas and supplies into the old fishing boat.

Jessy is on the bow, staring at me with her yellow beak jutting out and one leg tucked up into her feathers, her other leg still knotted with fishing line.

“Oh, hey, girl. You’ve been waiting for me?” I see the thick white layer of seagull crap on the bow and realize she’s probably been waiting there since Gene got hurt. Broken shells and dead spider crabs litter the deck.

“It’s just me today,” I say, and start cleaning up the deck. Jessy makes a shrill cry and takes to the air. I watch as she flies off toward Hundred Acre Cove.

It’s just me today.
Suddenly I’m scared. It’s dark and I’m alone and I’m taking Gene’s boat without permission and there are going to be a million guys out there and what if I screw up? I’m panicking now.

Gene, tell me it’s okay. Tell me it’s okay to take your boat. Let me know it’s going to be all right. Promise you’re going to be with me out there.