“He thinks you might go on tour.”

I expected him to laugh, or dispute this. Instead, he just said, “Does he, now.”

“That’s crazy, right? I mean, you wouldn’t . . .” I studied his face, trying to read his expression. “You couldn’t really do something like that. Would you?”

He didn’t answer, and then Theo was right up on us, sliding his phone into his pocket. He seemed übercheerful as he said, “How we doing? Need any more help?”

“All fixed,” Clyde told him. “Thanks, though.”

“Sure. You want us to follow you back, help you unload?”

Clyde looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. I’ll just see you guys tomorrow.”

“Washroom, nine a.m.,” Theo said, pointing at him. “See you then!”

And then, Clyde was walking away, to his truck. Theo, still clearly on a high, basically bounced, Benji-like, back to my car. I was following him when I heard Clyde say, “Emaline.”

I turned around. “Yes?”

“You be careful out here, okay?” he said. “It’s late.”

I nodded. Even though it was only just after ten, I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. It was not all that different from Theo’s concern when we’d seen him. And yet totally not the same thing.

I started back to my car, where, at this distance, Theo, Daisy, and Morris were just outlines, not distinguishable from one another. You can never be sure of anyone until you’re close enough to see them clearly. Now I did the best I could, squinting into the oncoming headlights of someone else as they, too, made their way down this long, dark road.

15

JUST ANOTHER DAY in the sandbox. But at least this time I had company.

“Name, please?” I asked the woman driving the long car beside me. She was in a bathing suit and cover up, her shoulders that first-day-of-vacation pink, indicating they’d arrived early to hit the beach before check-in.

“Hopper,” she replied. Her husband, beside her, was chomping on an unlit cigar.

“Hopper,” I repeated, then reached behind me. A beat later, the envelope and welcome packet were in my hand. “Here you go. Can I offer you a cold drink for the ride?”

“Got a beer in there?” the husband asked, around his cigar.

“No, sorry,” I said cheerfully. “Just water, cola, or juice.”

“I’ll take a water,” the woman said.

One appeared by my elbow, and I gave it to her. “And you, sir?”

“Cola sounds good.”

Boom, and the bottle was in my hands. I delivered it, then smiled. “Any questions or concerns, our number is in bold on the front of the envelope. Enjoy your vacation!”

“Thank you,” the woman said, rolling up her window, and then they pulled away. Another happy customer.

I looked down at Benji, sitting on the stool behind me. “I think you’re improving on your time with every car.”

He smiled, pleased, then gestured to the cooler and milk crate full of envelopes in front of him, both within easy and quick reach. “It was just a matter of creating a more efficient system.”

“Or any system,” I pointed out. “I didn’t exactly have one.”

“We’re a good team,” he said.

“That we are,” I agreed, as the next car, a black Cadillac SUV, pulled up.

In the end, it had taken me only a couple of days to find my father a sitter for Benji. One of Rebecca’s friends, busy studying for the LSAT, was looking for something flexible. In truth, though, I kind of liked having him around, so I’d taken to picking him up myself a couple of days a week and giving him odd jobs around the office. Sure, he was ten, and couldn’t be trusted with any of the heavy lifting, figuratively or literally. But when it came to an extra set of hands and a fast response time, there was no one better.

“Name?” I asked the man in the SUV now.

“Perkins. Is it always this hot here?”

“Not always,” I replied, as Benji handed me the envelope and the bag. “But July can be pretty toasty. Can I offer you a cold drink for the ride to your property?”

The man, who was heavyset and had the A/C blasting hard enough that I could feel it from where I was standing, wiped a hand across his face. “Water,” he said, like someone who had just crawled across the desert. Benji handed me one, which I delivered, and the guy cracked it and took a big gulp. “Man! That’s cold. Really hits the spot. Thanks.”

I nodded, then looked down at Benji, who gave me a thumbs-up. It had been his idea to partially freeze the waters on these superhot days before we came out. “Enjoy your vacation.”

The SUV pulled away, and I wiped a hand across my own forehead. It was hot, even for mid-July. Which I honestly couldn’t believe was already here. The summer was always too short, but this year it felt especially fast. Especially if I did it by the numbers.

Days since Luke and I had broken up: twenty-nine. Days Theo and I had been together: Also twenty-nine. (I wasn’t proud of this, but the numbers didn’t lie. I couldn’t really count the demarcation, as nice as it was.) Days until the Beach Bash: twenty-eight. Days until I left for school: well, that one I wasn’t exactly counting. Even though I probably should have been.

When I did make myself think about it, my heart raced in that familiar way I remembered from the height of my application stress. But this wasn’t about what my future might be, like back then; it was about what it actually was. On some day in mid-August (I really needed to write it down) I’d be packing up my car with all my stuff and heading to East U, with this summer, like all the others of my life, behind me. I couldn’t even begin to picture that. So I wasn’t. Obviously.