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Page 79
Page 79
I saw Daisy’s face soften at this. There, I thought. This is the boy I wanted you to meet.
“I mean, seriously,” Theo was saying now, “back then someone like Emaline wouldn’t even have looked at me, much less agreed to going to something like this.”
“Theo,” I said quietly.
“What?” he replied. “You’re special, Emaline. You’re not just any other girl.”
He had no way of knowing, I was sure, what I felt hearing these last three words. Like it was a code or password, unlocking a secret, distant part of my heart. All this time, I’d seen it from the other side, as a way of focusing on all the things I wasn’t. But to him, to be different was the better choice, even ideal. Yet again, he was giving me another view, and I liked how I looked from here. A summer of firsts, indeed.
“I think it’s really sweet,” Daisy said to Theo now. “It’ll be great, really fun.”
I looked at her, trying to catch her eye so I could let her know how much I appreciated this. Okay, it had been kind of an awful night. But it wasn’t like when I was with Luke we were all one big happy group either. And I was happy now.
“Here,” I said to him, cutting a large piece of the cake. “This is for you.”
He smiled, pleased. “Yeah? Thanks.”
“Thank you.” And despite Morris and Daisy watching right across the table, despite everything, I kissed his lips. And then, I slid that piece of my heart on the plate with a flourish, making it an event, and gave it to him.
* * *
The ride back home was considerably better. Maybe it was what Theo had said, or the cake, or the fact that Morris dozed off shortly after we left Cape Frost. Whatever the reason, we rode in amiable silence, with just the radio on. Every once in a while, I’d look over at Theo, who was sitting beside me, one hand resting on my knee, and smile.
The trip from Cape Frost to Colby was all one two-lane road, with a few stretches where there was nothing but scrub brush and mile markers. It was along one of these that we came upon a stopped blue truck with its hazards on and a U-Haul trailer attached. One of the trailer’s tires was flat. The driver, in a beat-up baseball hat and a flannel shirt, was pulling out a jack from the truck box to change it. I slowed down.
“What are you doing?” Theo asked.
“I’m going to see if he needs any help,” I replied.
“Emaline, I don’t know . . .” He paused. “It’s kind of late, don’t you think? And there’s not much around here.”
“Exactly,” I said. “If he doesn’t have a phone he’s screwed.”
“Everyone has a phone these days.”
“Not in Colby. Roll down your window.”
He hesitated, his hand on the button. The guy still hadn’t seen us. “I’m serious. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Theo. The guy’s stranded out here in the middle of nowhere and there are four of us.”
“He’s got a weapon, though.”
“That’s a jack,” I told him. “And there’s a Finz sticker on that truck bumper, as well as a Colby beach permit. He’s a local.”
“But you don’t recognize him.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I don’t know,” he said again.
Now we were coming right up next to the guy, and Theo still hadn’t even cracked the window. I turned to look at Morris, who was in the backseat, asleep, his mouth hanging open. To Daisy I said, “Wake him up, will you?”
She shook his shoulder. He came to quickly, the way I knew he would: Morris could sleep anywhere, deeply, and upon waking go right back to whatever he’d been doing without missing a beat, a skill he’d perfected in high school. “What’s going on?”
“This guy’s broken down,” I said.
Immediately, Morris lowered his window. “Hey, man. You need some help?”
The guy turned, the jack in his hand, and squinted at us. “Yeah, that’d be great. I know there’s a spare for this thing but I’m not sure where it is.”
I reversed, then pulled behind the truck, and Morris hopped out. We sat there in silence, watching as the driver opened the back of the trailer to check on whatever he was hauling. It was crammed full of what appeared to be canvases or . . . paintings. Lots of paintings. I looked at his face again, more closely this time.
“Holy crap,” I said. I got out of the car.
“Hey!” Theo called out, worried. “I don’t think you should—”
I walked over to the trailer, and the driver looked at me. “Emaline! What are you doing here?”
“I’m with him,” I said, gesturing at Morris. “You know Clyde, Morris?”
Morris glanced at him. “Oh, yeah. Right. Hey.”
“Hey,” Clyde said. He looked back at my car. “You guys out tonight, huh?”
“We went to Haiku for contemporary Asian fare,” Morris told him.
“What the hell is that?” Clyde asked.
“Exactly,” Morris replied. “Emaline, you got a flashlight? I think the spare’s actually up front.”
“In the car,” I said. “Hang on.”
I walked back over to my door, then got in, reaching across Theo to the glove compartment. “I know you think you know everyone here,” he said. “But that guy could be a serial killer.”