phone while not on break. “I’ll probably be better tomorrow.”
“Really?” Seth sounded a bit happier. “I thought e. coli was, like, super serious. I thought you had to go to the hospital for it, and stuff.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Not the twenty-four-hour kind.”
Okay, so whatever. I’m not the only liar in town. But I am definitely the biggest. Seriously, has there ever been a bigger liar than me, in the history of Eastport?
Still, at least I feel bad about it. I detected no hint of remorse in Tommy for lying to Jill that he goes toEastport High. Whereas, I really do always feel terrible every time I lie to Seth.
Fifteen minutes after I punched out from the Gulp, I pulled up to the marina on my bike, and looked out at the near-empty parking lot, with the boat masts sticking up out of the water beyond it. I stood there in the still evening, looking at the moths who flew up, attracted by the white light from my bike lamp, and listening to the lap of the water. It was hard to figure out which car was Tommy’s. I could only see a few beat-up trucks—but those seemed to belong to the old men clustered with their fishing poles below the bridge, beneath which striped bass were rumored to congregate at night.
There was one red Jeep Wrangler, but that seemed like way too cool of a car for Tommy Sullivan. It had to belong to some Summer People who’d docked their yacht in the bight for repairs or barnacle-scraping or something.
But when I pedaled toward the pier, I didn’t see any yachts, just the usual cluster of working boats, belonging to actual local fisher- and lobster-men. My dad’s twin-engine speedboat, with its brown sunscreen—which Dad had been meaning to replace for years, and was now a bit on the tattered, faded side—was bobbing up and down at the far end of the pier.
And there was, I could see by the combined light from the half-full moon and the lamps along the dock, someone lying casually across the bow.
Someone who was most definitely not my dad.
I felt something when I saw him. I don’t even know what it was. It was like a fireball of emotions shooting through me, including, but not limited to, rage, remorse, guilt, and indignation.
Most of the rage was directed at myself. Because as I pedaled closer to the boat—bikes aren’t allowed on the pier, but whatever, there was no one around to stop me—and saw how comfortable Tommy had gone ahead and made himself, lying there on his back, looking up at the stars, I couldn’t help thinking how incredibly good he looked in that snug-fitting black tee, and those faded jeans that seemed to hug every contour of his lean body.
And those are not the kind of thoughts any girl with a boyfriend should have about another guy. Let alone a girl with two boyfriends.
Let alone thoughts she should be having about Tommy Sullivan.
Oh, yeah. I was in serious trouble.
Six
“Hey,” Tommy said when he finally noticed me on the pier, looking down at him. He leaned up on his elbows. “Come aboard.”
“No way,” I said.
He laughed. Not in a mean way, though. But like he found something genuinely funny.
“Right,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs down off the bow, so they were dangling in front of the door to the cabin below. “I forgot how much you hate boats. Even ones that are docked. Still get seasick?”
“Just tell me what you want,” I said, clutching the handlebars to my bike and trying to keep my voice steady. “So I can leave already.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “Take one of those pills you always have with you andclimb in.” Even in the moonlight, I could tell his smile was bitter. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
I felt a burst of rage so pure and intense, it nearly knocked me off my bike and into the water below. Which I actually wouldn’t have minded. Anything to keep my mind off the fact that Tommy Sullivan was hot now.
Which I couldn’t believe I was thinking
“Really?” Seth sounded a bit happier. “I thought e. coli was, like, super serious. I thought you had to go to the hospital for it, and stuff.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Not the twenty-four-hour kind.”
Okay, so whatever. I’m not the only liar in town. But I am definitely the biggest. Seriously, has there ever been a bigger liar than me, in the history of Eastport?
Still, at least I feel bad about it. I detected no hint of remorse in Tommy for lying to Jill that he goes toEastport High. Whereas, I really do always feel terrible every time I lie to Seth.
Fifteen minutes after I punched out from the Gulp, I pulled up to the marina on my bike, and looked out at the near-empty parking lot, with the boat masts sticking up out of the water beyond it. I stood there in the still evening, looking at the moths who flew up, attracted by the white light from my bike lamp, and listening to the lap of the water. It was hard to figure out which car was Tommy’s. I could only see a few beat-up trucks—but those seemed to belong to the old men clustered with their fishing poles below the bridge, beneath which striped bass were rumored to congregate at night.
There was one red Jeep Wrangler, but that seemed like way too cool of a car for Tommy Sullivan. It had to belong to some Summer People who’d docked their yacht in the bight for repairs or barnacle-scraping or something.
But when I pedaled toward the pier, I didn’t see any yachts, just the usual cluster of working boats, belonging to actual local fisher- and lobster-men. My dad’s twin-engine speedboat, with its brown sunscreen—which Dad had been meaning to replace for years, and was now a bit on the tattered, faded side—was bobbing up and down at the far end of the pier.
And there was, I could see by the combined light from the half-full moon and the lamps along the dock, someone lying casually across the bow.
Someone who was most definitely not my dad.
I felt something when I saw him. I don’t even know what it was. It was like a fireball of emotions shooting through me, including, but not limited to, rage, remorse, guilt, and indignation.
Most of the rage was directed at myself. Because as I pedaled closer to the boat—bikes aren’t allowed on the pier, but whatever, there was no one around to stop me—and saw how comfortable Tommy had gone ahead and made himself, lying there on his back, looking up at the stars, I couldn’t help thinking how incredibly good he looked in that snug-fitting black tee, and those faded jeans that seemed to hug every contour of his lean body.
And those are not the kind of thoughts any girl with a boyfriend should have about another guy. Let alone a girl with two boyfriends.
Let alone thoughts she should be having about Tommy Sullivan.
Oh, yeah. I was in serious trouble.
Six
“Hey,” Tommy said when he finally noticed me on the pier, looking down at him. He leaned up on his elbows. “Come aboard.”
“No way,” I said.
He laughed. Not in a mean way, though. But like he found something genuinely funny.
“Right,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs down off the bow, so they were dangling in front of the door to the cabin below. “I forgot how much you hate boats. Even ones that are docked. Still get seasick?”
“Just tell me what you want,” I said, clutching the handlebars to my bike and trying to keep my voice steady. “So I can leave already.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “Take one of those pills you always have with you andclimb in.” Even in the moonlight, I could tell his smile was bitter. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
I felt a burst of rage so pure and intense, it nearly knocked me off my bike and into the water below. Which I actually wouldn’t have minded. Anything to keep my mind off the fact that Tommy Sullivan was hot now.
Which I couldn’t believe I was thinking
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