The Islanders (5 page)

“No, that's not it. I date guys. Only guys. I just don't know you. Maybe later, after a while, I'll get to know you.”

“Okay, I'm lost here. You tell me. How do I proceed with getting to know you if I can't ask you out?”

“Why are you so sure you want to know me?” Aisha asked.

Christopher shrugged. “Because you're very beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Besides, I mean, you and I are, like, the only people of color on this island.”

“Ah ha!” Aisha pointed a triumphant finger at him. “See, I knew that's all it was. You figure since I'm the only young black woman around and you're the only young black man around that we
have
to be together. Like I have no other choice. See, I understand. Everyone on the island is starting to say, Hey, Aisha, are you going out with that Christopher guy yet?
Yet
. Like it has to happen. Well, it doesn't have to happen.”

“But, you have to admit—”

Aisha shook her head. “No, I don't have to admit. I'm not just waiting around here for you to come and sweep me off my feet. I go out with white guys as well as black guys, so it's not just like, hey, check out my skin, now you have to go out with me.”

Christopher nodded. “You know, I'm starting to see something in what you're saying. I think you're absolutely right. We needed to know each other better, see, because if I had known
you better, I'd have known you were a bitch.” He reached for the flowers. “I'll take those.”

“Take them,” Aisha said, relinquishing the bouquet.

Just then Aisha's mother opened the door and stepped outside. “Is there some reason I hear shouting out here?”

“I'm very sorry, ma'am,” Christopher said smoothly. “My name is Christopher Shupe. These are for you.” He handed the flowers to Aisha's mother.

Her mother took the flowers and smiled. “They're lovely. I like to have flowers in the house when we have guests. Thank you. I keep wanting to grow a garden, but I never seem to have the time. Maybe next spring.”

“Actually, ma'am, there are things you should be doing now if you want a garden for next season. You need to be putting in bulbs, you know, for daffodils, tulips—”

“Tulips?” Mrs. Gray said, her eyes lighting up. “I love tulips. But I just don't have the time, and there aren't any landscaping companies that operate on the island.”

“There's a guy I know who'd do it on either a per-job basis or by the hour,” Christopher said. “Me.”

“Mother,” Aisha warned.

“Aren't you in school?” her mother asked.

“No, ma'am. I've graduated, and now I'm working to put college money together. I cook nights down at Passmores' and
I do repairs around the building for my landlady, but I have several days available.”

“Tulips,” Mrs. Gray repeated, her eyes wandering over the yard.

“Next spring, just like clockwork,” Christopher promised.

“You have a deal, young man,” Mrs. Gray said. She turned to go back inside. “And thanks for these flowers.”

Aisha shot Christopher a poisonous look. He grinned back.

“Fate,” he said.

“I don't believe in fate,” Aisha said, closing the door in his face.

 

At the Youth Authority we slept in barracks, a dozen bunkbeds to a room, twenty-four guys in all. The guy in the bunk above me had tried to poison his father with Drano. The guy in the next bed over had sold LSD to some eight-year-olds. So, you see, even though by Chatham Island standards I was a bad guy, my fellow cellmates weren't real impressed.

I spent the first year being bitter. At my dad for being such a hard case. At Claire for never once writing or visiting. I figured that was the least she could have done. At life in general. But after a while, if you're any kind of a human being, you get past bitterness.

I started reading a lot. Used to help some of the other guys keep up with the lame attempts the YA made to deal with our educations. I grew up a little.

One day I was looking through the Weymouth Times and happened on a picture. Zoey. Zoey Passmore, it said right under the photo of her smiling nervously and standing down by the ferry, the place where she had been the only one of all my supposed friends to say a kind word.

Not that I'm bitter.

The article with the picture said she was one of three
Weymouth High kids who had been selected to contribute articles to the paper's youth page. I read the two she did when they came out. An interview with the new vice principal and a funny review of the cafeteria's food. Echoes of a place I used to know.

I cut out the picture and pinned it on the wall beside my cot. After a while it grew yellow and frayed, but I kept it. I don't really know why, except that I've learned you have to cling to hope no matter how unreasonable, no matter how or when it appears.

Even if it's just a faded picture of a beautiful girl you barely knew.

“HE WAS GROPING YOU,” NINA
said. She pulled the trigger of her pump water gun and let fly a stream of water that caught Zoey in the neck. Aiming the stream higher, she arced it straight into Zoey's open mouth. “Last time we went to Big Bite, Jake was groping you, and I'm just saying if we go this evening, expect gropage. It's the fresh air or something. It brings out his grope reflex.”

Zoey lay back on the webbed chaise lounge, swallowed the water, and held up her hand for Nina to cease firing. She pumped her own green-and-orange plastic water rifle and aimed toward Nina, who lay ten feet away on a matching chair. Zoey squeezed the trigger and nailed her friend's belly button.

“Sorry,” Zoey said, raising her aim.

“It's okay, it feels good,” Nina said. “It figures. A beautiful, perfectly sunny day like this, and the beaches are crawling with tourists. They could at least wait till tomorrow.”

“I seem to remember you whining about the tourists all
being gone. Anyway
,
soon we'll have the island back to ourselves,” Zoey said. She fired, and this time Nina caught the stream in her mouth. “In the meantime, we have my backyard.”

Nina adjusted her rainbow sunglasses and the straps of her two-piece bathing suit. “This tan has to last us like nine months.”

“Dragonfly!” Zoey yelled.

Both girls trained their water guns on the big insect buzzing by overhead. It flew off up the hill, and Zoey settled back on her chair.

“Jake was definitely groping you,” Nina said. “I saw movement under your shirt.”

“Okay, so he tried a minor grope.”

“He used to be such a nice boy,” Nina said regretfully. “Well raised, respectful of his elders, the kind who always says grace before he eats. Now he's become a swine.”

“Guys will do that,” Zoey said tolerantly. “They're gropers by nature. Just as girls are counter-gropers.”

“I wouldn't know, would I?” Nina said. She sighed dramatically. “Maybe this year I should get me one of them. One of them thar' boyfriends.”

“Plenty of guys ask you out,” Zoey said.

“Nerds. Dweebs. Geckos.”

“How about George in tenth grade?”

“He was such a gross kisser. Total tongue, like he was trying to lick my liver.”

“Thanks for telling me that,” Zoey said. “That is the grossest thing I've ever heard.”

“No, it isn't. I've told you plenty of grosser things than that.”

“Time to turn,” Zoey announced. “One, two, three!”

Both girls spun on their lounge chairs, turning at the same time so that they were face to face.

“Hit me,” Nina said, opening her mouth wide.

Zoey pumped, aimed, and fired perfectly.

“Not all guys are George,” Zoey said.

“You're right,” Nina said snidely. “Some are Jake.”

“He's a good kisser,” Zoey said thoughtfully. “I mean, I think he is. It's not like I have a lot to compare him to.”

“Tad Crowley,” Nina said.

“Better than Tad,” Zoey said definitely. She had kissed Tad at a party when she was mad at Jake. He was the only other guy she had ever kissed. Unless you counted Lucas, and that . . . well, that had been different. She'd never told Nina about that. “You should go out with Mike Monahan. He likes you.”

“He told you he likes me?” Nina asked.

“Not in so many words.”

“Uh-huh. Well, in so many words I have to go use your bathroom.” Nina got up from the chair. She had a webbing
pattern across her stomach.

Zoey put down her head and closed her eyes. Nina wasn't back within the expected two minutes, which meant she was either raiding the refrigerator or she'd found something to do for Benjamin. She was letting Benjamin absolutely use her like a servant lately.

Zoey sensed something change, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. She rolled onto one side and shielded her eyes, staring up at the sky. She saw the outline of a head, with brilliant rays of sunlight blazing behind it.

“Sorry,” a voice called down from above. “Didn't mean to block your sun.”

Zoey's breath caught in her chest and she sat up quickly, tilting her head to see the face that went with the voice. She knew who it was.

Lucas was gazing down at her from his deck.

“Lucas?” Zoey said in an overbright voice. “Is that you?”

“I wasn't sure you'd remember,” he said.

“Of course I remember,” Zoey said, still sounding shrill and phony.

Lucas walked to the end of the deck and climbed over the railing. He dropped to the little path that went below his deck and wound down to Zoey's backyard. In an instant he was standing right in front of her.

He had grown in the two years he'd been away. There was more muscle on him now, though he was still less beefy than Jake. His blond hair was long and kept falling forward into his face.

“Hi,” Zoey said.

“Long time, Zoey,” he said. He looked her up and down, not coyly but openly. “You look good. I always remembered you as being skinny.”

Zoey gulped. Why did her modest pink bikini suddenly feel so incredibly revealing? For some reason she felt a compelling need to straighten her hair. At the same time, a confused feeling of guilt welled up inside her. This was Lucas. She wasn't supposed to be talking to Lucas.

“I heard you were back,” Zoey said.

“Oh? Who did you hear that from? Not my parents. They don't officially admit I am back.” He smiled wryly. “They don't officially admit I exist.”

Zoey could only nod. What was she supposed to say? She glanced nervously toward the house. Nina could come back out at any moment.

“Ahh,” he said. “I see. You're supposed to be blowing me off, aren't you? Islander solidarity and all that.”

“No, no,” Zoey stammered, her cheeks burning.

He laughed. “I remember you being skinny. I don't
remember you being a liar. Don't forget, I was born on Chatham Island. I know how it goes.” He tilted his head and looked at her speculatively. “Jake McRoyan think he can get rid of me with a little cold shoulder treatment?” He laughed again, this time bitterly. “Where I've been the last two years, you hope that guys don't want to talk to you. It will take more than Jake, and more than my father, to scare me off.”

He turned and began ascending the path again. Halfway up, he turned back. “Tell me, Zoey.” His face was softer now, his voice more tentative. “How's Claire?”

Zoey shrugged.

“Does she know I'm back?”

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I notice she hasn't come by to welcome me home. She's with Jake on this, huh?”

Zoey bristled inwardly. Lucas made it sound like it was some secret pact between Jake and Claire. It was more than that. “I'm with Jake on this, too,” Zoey said in a voice that tripped as she spoke.

“Yeah, well, give Claire a message for me next time you see her, will you, Zoey? Tell her not to worry so much. Tell her I keep my promises. You tell her that.” He gave Zoey a last long look before he walked away.

ZOEY SPENT THE AFTERNOON DOWN
at the restaurant, helping her parents prepare for the Labor Day weekend crush. She moved beer from the storage room out to the bar coolers, unpacked several heavy boxes of new plates and sent them through the dishwasher, helped her father pull down the greasy vents from the hood over the stove, changed the oil in the deep fryer, and cleaned the entire walk-in freezer.

By the time evening rolled around, she was more than ready for escape.

She changed clothes in the restaurant bathroom and went outside into the fresh, warm air of early evening. She could see that Jake already had his father's big boat warming up. Aisha was on the foredeck with Nina. Claire was standing on the bow looking at something Zoey couldn't make out, with Benjamin just behind her.

Zoey crossed Dock Street and walked out onto the floating pier.

“About time, Zo,” Jake called out to her from up on the flying bridge.

“All work and no play, et cetera,” Claire said.

“Hey, some of us have to work for a living,” Zoey said, climbing aboard the big cabin cruiser. “Not all of us have rich daddies.”

Claire smiled. “But your dad is cool, as fathers go.”

“Yeah,” Nina chimed in, “your dad smokes dope and listens to The Who.”

“The who?” Aisha asked, looking blank.

“Big rock band of the sixties,” Benjamin said.

“No, he doesn't, not anymore,” Zoey said. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck.

“Doesn't what?” Claire asked. “Listen to The Who?”

“He doesn't smoke pot anymore. Can we drop this topic and get going?” She told herself she was irritable because she'd been working all afternoon. But a part of her also felt guilty. She hadn't told Nina about talking to Lucas, and that was unusual. She told Nina everything. Almost everything.

“Zoey,” Benjamin said, “you're really not responsible for what Mom and Dad do. You don't have to defend them.”

“Are we going for a boat ride or are we picking on Zoey?” Aisha asked, coming to Zoey's defense.

“Can't we do both?” Claire asked.

“Somebody cast off the stern line!” Jake yelled down from the bridge.

“Is that front or back?” Nina asked. “I can never remember.”

The boat backed out of the slip and Jake turned it around to face toward open water. They rounded the breakwater, and Zoey waved to some little kids Rollerblading along the concrete expanse.

As soon as they were out of the shelter of the harbor, the water grew choppy, with wavetops blown white by the breeze. Jake held the boat a quarter of a mile offshore. Zoey could see the well-preserved Victorian homes that lined Leeward Drive, most of which had been converted into inns or apartments.

Chatham Island was shaped like a croissant, with a big bite taken out of the middle. The bite was appropriately called Big Bite pond, a shallow, sheltered body that nearly cut the island in half. The north half of the island was inhabited, with North Harbor at the very tip. The part south of Big Bite was a wildlife sanctuary, with dirt roads and a very few scattered, isolated homes.

It took less than ten minutes to travel the distance from the breakwater to the inlet. Jake guided the boat through the narrow inlet, and suddenly they were out of the wind, on water that barely showed a ripple. The pond was only half a mile wide
from its northern shore, lined with homes on widely spaced wooded lots, to its wilder, tree-lined southern shore.

Jake anchored the boat within a hundred feet of the south shore and they set about lowering the small dinghy into the water. Nina and Aisha climbed down into the dinghy, and Zoey and Claire passed down the cooler filled with cold soda, the bag of charcoal, and the Tupperware containers of meat and vegetables.

Benjamin joined them in the dinghy, climbing down with a hand from Nina, and the three of them rowed for shore.

“You want to do it the easy way or the hard way?” Claire asked Zoey.

Zoey looked toward shore, mentally calculating the distance. “I'll race you. Loser hunts firewood.” She shucked off her shorts and blouse, revealing the pale blue maillot underneath. Claire did the same.

“Hey, Jake!” Zoey called. “Bring our clothes when you come ashore, all right?”

Jake nodded and waved from the bridge. He was waiting to be certain the anchor was holding.

Claire grinned and, without warning, dived like a knife toward the water. Zoey cursed under her breath and dove in after her. The water was cold, but after a day spent in the restaurant kitchen, sweating and covering herself with cleaning
solutions, it felt heavenly. She surfaced and saw Claire, already two lengths ahead.

Zoey stretched out her arms and went after her. She was the better swimmer but, as usual, Claire had found a way to get an edge. The distance to shore wouldn't be enough for Zoey to make up for Claire's early start.

Claire stood just as Zoey's feet found the gravel bottom.

“Don't you ever get tired of cheating, Claire?” Zoey asked, squeezing the water from her hair.

“Don't you ever get tired of losing?” Claire replied, grinning.

Aisha rowed the dinghy back out to the boat to retrieve Jake. Claire went back into the water, waist deep, meeting the dinghy just as Jake and Aisha neared shore. She leaned over the side and retrieved her dry clothing. Zoey saw the way Jake's eyes homed in on Claire's cleavage, so ostentatiously displayed in her bright red bathing suit.

If I were the suspicious type, I'd think she did that deliberately,
Zoey thought. Jake sent her an innocent smile that proclaimed his guilt. She smiled back with her mouth, letting her eyes tell him that she had indeed noticed.

“Who's coming with me to scrape up firewood?” Zoey asked, looking pleadingly at Nina and Aisha. Both of her friends volunteered half-heartedly. Zoey put dry clothing on over her
wet bathing suit and tied her shoes.

“Dry wood this time,” Jake said as they tramped into the woods.

“Just tend to your little barbecue, Jake,” Aisha said. “I'll be hungry when I get back.”

“I don't know if I should leave Jake with Claire, undefended,” Zoey grumbled as they shuffled noisily over the carpet of pine needles.

“Which one is undefended?” Nina asked.

“You know, guys are going to look,” Aisha said. “They always do, even when they say they don't.”

“I don't blame him,” Zoey said. “It's Claire, always parading those big buffers of hers around.”

“You know Jake's faithful to you,” Aisha said, stooping to pick up a fallen tree limb.

“Yeah, he lacks the imagination for anything else,” Nina said dryly. “He thinks life comes with a rule book and a set of instructions. He wants to grow up to be exactly like his dad, only with more hair.”

Zoey flashed on what her mother had insinuated about Mr. McRoyan at breakfast that morning. She wasn't sure whether she should bring it up or not. Maybe with Nina alone, another time. Somehow telling
two
people seemed like gossip, whereas just telling Nina would be all right. That made two
things she was hiding from Nina.

Zoey pointed ahead. “There. Dead tree. We can break off the branches.”

“You know what I don't get?” Aisha said. “I don't get Claire and Benjamin.”

“No one gets that,” Nina said. “Claire's been getting by on her looks since she was twelve. Now she's going out with the one guy who can't be totally sure she isn't a gorgon. Go figure. Not to mention the second part of the equation—what's a nice guy like Benjamin doing with my sister?”

“I don't know about Benjamin being such a nice guy,” Aisha said. “No offense, Zoey. I don't mean he's not nice, just that he's . . . he's got an edge to him.”

“Of course he does,” Nina said before Zoey could answer. “I mean, cut the guy some slack. He's dealing with being blind, which makes you feel weak and vulnerable. So naturally he reacts by keeping his distance from people.”

“I think it's all you island people,” Aisha said. “You all grew up here together, you're stuck together, so you all get kind of protective of your space.”

“We do not,” Nina said. “Hey!” she yelled at Aisha. “Don't touch that stick. That's
my
stick. It's much closer to me.”

“Very funny,” Aisha said with a smile.

“Keep an eye out for ticks,” Zoey said.

“Oh, Zoey!” Nina whined. “Did you have to say the word ticks?” She began examining her bare legs.

“Ticks,” Zoey repeated.

“Bats,” Nina countered.

“Too early for bats,” Zoey said confidently.

“It will be dark soon,” Nina said. “That's when the bats come out with their leathery wings and their sharp little teeth.”

“Well, at least we haven't seen any snakes yet,” Zoey said gleefully, enjoying the crestfallen look on Aisha's face.

“Yeah, they're worse than bats and ticks put together,” Nina agreed solemnly.

“Don't start with me,” Aisha warned.

“Psssss!”

Aisha jumped, looking down at the ground where Nina was pointing. Then she shook her head. “Oh, you're very funny, Nina.”

“I think we have enough wood,” Zoey said.

“Snakes and ticks and bats, oh my!” Nina said.

“Let's just get our wood and follow the yellow brick road back to the beach,” Aisha said to Zoey. “See if we can get your boyfriend off her sister.”

“It's a dangerous world,” Nina said in a low, trembling voice. “Bats and snakes and ticks . . . and Claire!”

The bonfire burned noisily, sending up Fourth of July fireworks in showers of sparks, cooling as they fell to earth before they could reach the dark, overhanging trees.

Clouds had moved in, concealing the stars but letting through the bright diffuse glow of the full moon. Away from the circle of the fire the air had grown brisk, but sitting with her back against Jake's chest, his thick, muscular arms wrapped around her, Zoey was warm. Her toes were close to the fire, and from time to time she had to pull them away to cool off.

Claire and Benjamin were on the opposite side of the fire, visible only in flashes between the flames, sometimes kissing, other times just holding hands. It was odd, always had been, for Zoey to see her brother being romantic. Benjamin, of course, could not see her, or even know that she could see him. It was one of the compensating advantages of being blind, she supposed—you could pretend to have a level of privacy, even when there wasn't any.

Nina and Aisha were down by the water, outlined as shadows against the glittering surface of the pond, having a deep philosophical discussion of some sort as they studiously avoided looking at the two couples.

“Nina needs a boyfriend,” Zoey said to Jake.

“Nina needs a personality first,” Jake said.

“A guy would be very, very lucky to get her.”

“Aisha's the one who needs a boyfriend,” Jake said. “I can't believe that new guy Christopher hasn't asked her out yet.”

“Maybe he isn't attracted to her.”

Jake made a dismissive noise. “She's got a nice bod, pretty face.”

Zoey twisted around to look at him. “She can read and write, too.”

“You know what I meant,” Jake said. “The first thing a guy looks at is . . . is looks. Later he gets into whether a girl is smart or has a good sense of humor.”

“How much later?”

“Zoey, is it just my imagination, or have you been busting me a lot lately?”

Zoey tilted her head straight back and closed her eyes. Jake kissed her lips and tightened his grip around her, letting his hand slip upward from her waist to just beneath her breasts.

“We've never kissed that way before,” Jake observed. “I mean, upside down like that.”

“Do I taste like barbecue sauce?”

“We both taste like barbecue sauce,” Jake said with a laugh. “Can I have some more?”

“Upside down?”

“Too strange,” Jake said. He guided her into turning around. They sat face to face, Zoey's legs over Jake's. She kissed
him again, enjoying the feel of his lips on hers.

“That was nice,” she said, pausing to breathe.

“Mmmm,” Jake agreed.

His eyes reflected the yellow flames, two separate bonfires burning in dark pools. He undid the top button of her blouse and let his fingers slide beneath the fabric.

“Jake, my brother is like ten feet away,” Zoey said in a whisper. Worse yet, Nina wasn't far away, and if she saw Jake in action, she'd be bound to start another round of discussion on groping.

“Your brother is always like ten feet away,” Jake said. He let his fingers caress the slope of her breast. “It's not as if he can see what we're doing.”

Zoey took his hand and moved it away. She kissed him again, but his response was less than enthusiastic. “Claire isn't blind.”

“She's not watching us,” Jake said. He reached for her again.

Zoey stood up. “I'm going to talk to Nina and Aisha.”

Jake stood up and grabbed her arm. “Just tell me one thing, Zoey,” he said. “Is this the way it's going to stay? I mean, I'm supposed to stay on first base until we get married?”

Zoey spun around and faced him. The fire no longer reflected in his eyes. They were just shadows within shadows now. “Excuse me? Did I just hear that?”

“I was just asking whether we're ever going to do it, Zo.”

“You said
until we get married
, Jake. I don't remember ever even discussing anything like that.” Zoey put up her hand, palm outward, to keep him at a distance. “We're not even seniors yet.”

Jake shrugged. “I didn't mean anything by it.”

“Good.”

“You know I love you, Zoey,” he said softly.

Zoey held her breath. It was not the first time he had said those words. She had even said them to him, once or twice. Maybe she had even meant them, who could be sure? Maybe Jake meant them, too, in his own way. She let Jake draw her close again.