Nantucket Blue

Thirty-nine





ZACK HAD TO HAVE SEEN THE PAPER. It was everywhere on this island. The Inquirer and Mirror, with Jay’s and my picture on the front page, would not go unnoticed, not in a million years.

After the birthday party, after I’d forced myself to eat a piece of cake and smile and thank everybody for celebrating with me, I decided to go for a run. Liz had made pointed eye contact with me throughout the party. She kept pinching my thigh and asking me if I felt different. I’d managed to nod and give her a thumbs-up and even laugh a little, but it had taken all of my strength.

I didn’t want to talk to her about what had happened anymore. I didn’t even want to try to get her on my side. I wasn’t even on my side. Why would she be? What I had done to Jules, losing my virginity to her little brother only a few months after her mom died, was terrible. And kissing Jay, while it had seemed innocent at the time, even productive in some way, had been a huge betrayal of Zack’s trust. How would I have felt if I saw a picture of Zack kissing another girl on the very same night we’d had sex? Horrible. Miserable. Pissed. I clutched my stomach as though I were swallowing poison, not buttercream frosting. Thankfully, Shane wanted to take Liz surfing, and she never said no to surfing with Shane. So when the party ended, I could just drop the charade and remove the happy mask.

I was too anxious to stay inside. I was too anxious to merely walk. I needed to run. I needed to sprint. I needed to work up a salty sweat and hear my feet pound the pavement and feel the sun searing the back of my neck. I needed to feel my heart pump blood and my breath get ragged and scratchy in my lungs. I needed to jump into the depths of the cold Atlantic Ocean. I needed to plunge my head under the water, open my mouth, and scream so loud the ferries rocked.

I put on my sports bra and bikini bottoms under shorts and a T-shirt and laced up my sneakers tight. I slipped my ponytail through a Red Sox hat that had been lingering in the lost and found for three weeks, and pulled the brim low over my eyebrows. I jogged out of town on Centre Street to Cliff Road.

I was halfway to the beach when I saw the red Volvo coming toward me. That was Parker’s car! Quills of panic pierced my stomach. I bet Parker knew everything. I bet Jules had told her. Parker was confident, fearless, and mean. And she was driving fast. I stopped and turned away from the road, wishing I had a shell to hide under. Was Jules in the car? Was Zack? I tried to make it look like I was tying my shoe. I was shaking, practically hyperventilating.

What had happened back in Providence was an accident. I thought I was doing the right thing by speaking at Nina’s memorial service. I had stood up and spoken with the best of intentions. And no matter what Jules thought, I’d followed her out to Nantucket out of love for her. But what had happened last night was no accident. And kissing Jay wasn’t a mistake, either. I’d kissed him back.

I heard the Volvo slow and I squeezed my eyes shut, covering my face in some primal pose of protection. I heard a window roll down. My heart was knocking desperately against my ribs. “Are you okay?” someone asked. It wasn’t Parker and Jules in the Volvo, but a grandma and grandpa. “Do you need some help, sweetheart?”

“Just a runner’s cramp,” I said, catching my breath. “I’m okay.” I stood up.

“You’re positively crimson. And probably dehydrated.” The woman handed me an Evian. “It’s too hot for running. Do you want a ride somewhere?”

“No. No, thank you,” I said, taking the chilled bottle. They drove off.

It wasn’t Parker, but I couldn’t seem to transmit this message from my brain to the rest of my body. I was shaking. My legs felt like jelly. I couldn’t seem to fill my lungs with the air they needed. I wanted to get back to the inn, turn off the lights, and hide under the covers in my little room with the rose wallpaper and the slanted ceiling. How was I going to get there if I couldn’t walk, if I couldn’t even breathe?

“I’m taking a few days off,” I said to Gavin the next morning. He was sitting at the reception desk, penciling something into the giant reservation book. “I think Bernadette can cover for me.”

“What?” he said with a furrowed brow. He sounded annoyed for the first time since I’d met him. “You know, usually you try to arrange someone to cover for you before you announce that you’re taking time off.”

“I’m really sorry, but it’s a family emergency.” This wasn’t a lie. This did feel like an emergency. Hot tears pricked my eyes.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. I nodded, unable to speak. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” I said. I’d called Dad last night and he was still willing to fly me back to Providence for Alexi’s birthday party. He booked me on a flight that would land in Providence at three thirty. I’d be at his house by four o’clock. I wanted to get off this island as soon as possible. They call Nantucket the faraway island. It’s so self-contained that it really can make you feel like you’re in an enchanted, distant world, that some magical mist separates you from reality. But it can also make you feel trapped and isolated. I wanted to get out of there.

“Cricket,” Gavin called as I walked down the hall. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, without looking at him. “I’ll only be gone for two days.” I’d already hurt and pissed off so many people, what was one more lie?

“You look like hell,” George said when I went to tell him that I’d be gone for a few days. George’s leg was healed, he was off his crutches, and he was almost done with the book. He really didn’t need me anymore.

“It’s a family emergency,” I said. That phrase had stopped Gavin from asking more questions, and it had the same effect on George.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” George said. “Is there anything I can do?” I shook my head. “Okay. Well, you’ll be back by the weekend, right?”

“I think,” I said, looking at the carpet.

“Because I was hoping you’d do an interview for me.”

“For the book?” He nodded. For one quick second I wasn’t thinking about Zack or Jules. “Like, a real live journalist interview?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “A real live journalist interview.”

“Who would I interview?”

“Paul Morgan. He’s a friend of your mom’s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been going through my notes, and his name comes up more than once. I think he and Boaty were pretty good friends at one point. He might have some unexpected treasure for me.”

“How will I know what to ask?” I wanted to get out of there, but it would have been a shame to miss out on this. It was my chance to really be a part of the book.

“I’ll help you,” he said. “That is, if you think you’ll have time to do it.”