she manages to say.
Ben shrugs. “Where do you want to go?” He’s wearing a navy blazer that sets off his glossy black hair and flashing blue eyes.
He’s looking at her as if she’s a girl, not his little sister’s friend.
“I don’t know,” Emily says casually. “I’m kind of bored.”
“Climb in,” Ben tells her. “We’ll go to Surfside.”
Her heart thumps. “I’d like that.”
He steers the Jeep away from the lights of town, past the highschool and the Muse, and down the long road to the south beach. Here they can hear the island’s sounds: the breeze through the wildflowers bordering the road, and then the long exhalation of the ocean against the shore.
They park in the lot, half-filled with cars. The concession stand is closed until tomorrow morning but all along the beach four-wheelers are parked. Far out in the ocean, a fishing boat’s lights wink.
Ben steps out of the Jeep, removes his blazer, yanks his tie off, unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt. Bending down, he removes his loafers and tosses them into the back of the Jeep. He rolls up his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants.
“Cocktail party,” he explains.
Cocktail party , Emily thinks. He’s so grown-up. Following his lead, Emily slips out of her shoes. The gritty sand against her bare soles is rough, real . She is alone with Ben, at night. She wants to pinch herself.
Side by side they walk down the long path of the sloping dune to the long, golden expanse of shoreline. In the distance, a cluster of four-wheel-drive vehicles circle a bonfire. They catch drifts of music. The people dancing and drinking are black shadows against the silver air.
“Let’s go this way.” Ben takes her hand, steering her in the opposite direction from the party.
His hand is firm and warm as they walk at the edge of the waves, their feet sinking in the wet sand.
Ben is holding her hand. She can’t believe it’s happening.
He stops walking and turns to her. The way he’s looking at her now—right at her, his face studying hers, his eyes so serious, shining in the moonlight—she has never felt so grown-up. She has never been so afraid.
“Do you know I had a crush on you when I was younger?” He grins, but in spite of that, he looks almost sad.
“You did?” Something lights within her as if a match has been struck.
“You bet. I used to keep a photo of you under my pillow.”
“You didn’t.” Heat rises within her.
“I did. I still have it.”
She can’t keep the smile off her face. She tries to be teasing. “Under your pillow?”
“Not anymore. It’s in a drawer somewhere.” He turns away, scuffing his foot in the sand.
“Where did you get a photo of me?” They walk again and her heart slows to normal.
“Oh, Mom took one of you and Maggie when you were on your bikes. You wore braces on your teeth. And the goofiest smile.”
Emily groans. “I remember that photo. I can’t believe you had a crush on me.” She wants to hear more. When he doesn’t elaborate, she says, “I was a little dink. I was a kid . I was afraid of you.”
“You certainly weren’t afraid of Mr. Pendergast.”
“Oh, right . I’d forgotten all about him.”
“I haven’t. I never will. You were like Joan of Arc or something, a real little warrior princess. You backed him right down.”
She’s amazed. He thought she was a warrior princess .
He leads her up the beach, away from the water. They sit against a dune, legs stuck out in front of them toward the white surf rolling up to shore.
“Why did you guys do it? Vandalize stuff, and steal?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She shrugs.
“Emily. I was poor in a place where everyone else had money. I was angry. I was trying to get some revenge.”
“Are you still—angry?”
Ben scoops up a handful of sand and lets it trickle through his fingers, making a sound like whispers. “Somewhere deep inside, I suppose I am. But Thaddeus changed my life. He’s taught me so much about
Ben shrugs. “Where do you want to go?” He’s wearing a navy blazer that sets off his glossy black hair and flashing blue eyes.
He’s looking at her as if she’s a girl, not his little sister’s friend.
“I don’t know,” Emily says casually. “I’m kind of bored.”
“Climb in,” Ben tells her. “We’ll go to Surfside.”
Her heart thumps. “I’d like that.”
He steers the Jeep away from the lights of town, past the highschool and the Muse, and down the long road to the south beach. Here they can hear the island’s sounds: the breeze through the wildflowers bordering the road, and then the long exhalation of the ocean against the shore.
They park in the lot, half-filled with cars. The concession stand is closed until tomorrow morning but all along the beach four-wheelers are parked. Far out in the ocean, a fishing boat’s lights wink.
Ben steps out of the Jeep, removes his blazer, yanks his tie off, unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt. Bending down, he removes his loafers and tosses them into the back of the Jeep. He rolls up his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants.
“Cocktail party,” he explains.
Cocktail party , Emily thinks. He’s so grown-up. Following his lead, Emily slips out of her shoes. The gritty sand against her bare soles is rough, real . She is alone with Ben, at night. She wants to pinch herself.
Side by side they walk down the long path of the sloping dune to the long, golden expanse of shoreline. In the distance, a cluster of four-wheel-drive vehicles circle a bonfire. They catch drifts of music. The people dancing and drinking are black shadows against the silver air.
“Let’s go this way.” Ben takes her hand, steering her in the opposite direction from the party.
His hand is firm and warm as they walk at the edge of the waves, their feet sinking in the wet sand.
Ben is holding her hand. She can’t believe it’s happening.
He stops walking and turns to her. The way he’s looking at her now—right at her, his face studying hers, his eyes so serious, shining in the moonlight—she has never felt so grown-up. She has never been so afraid.
“Do you know I had a crush on you when I was younger?” He grins, but in spite of that, he looks almost sad.
“You did?” Something lights within her as if a match has been struck.
“You bet. I used to keep a photo of you under my pillow.”
“You didn’t.” Heat rises within her.
“I did. I still have it.”
She can’t keep the smile off her face. She tries to be teasing. “Under your pillow?”
“Not anymore. It’s in a drawer somewhere.” He turns away, scuffing his foot in the sand.
“Where did you get a photo of me?” They walk again and her heart slows to normal.
“Oh, Mom took one of you and Maggie when you were on your bikes. You wore braces on your teeth. And the goofiest smile.”
Emily groans. “I remember that photo. I can’t believe you had a crush on me.” She wants to hear more. When he doesn’t elaborate, she says, “I was a little dink. I was a kid . I was afraid of you.”
“You certainly weren’t afraid of Mr. Pendergast.”
“Oh, right . I’d forgotten all about him.”
“I haven’t. I never will. You were like Joan of Arc or something, a real little warrior princess. You backed him right down.”
She’s amazed. He thought she was a warrior princess .
He leads her up the beach, away from the water. They sit against a dune, legs stuck out in front of them toward the white surf rolling up to shore.
“Why did you guys do it? Vandalize stuff, and steal?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She shrugs.
“Emily. I was poor in a place where everyone else had money. I was angry. I was trying to get some revenge.”
“Are you still—angry?”
Ben scoops up a handful of sand and lets it trickle through his fingers, making a sound like whispers. “Somewhere deep inside, I suppose I am. But Thaddeus changed my life. He’s taught me so much about
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