I didn’t say anything. My head was still stuck on him driving past my house. To see if I wanted to hang out.
“The thing is, well, Finn’s not my father. Not my real father.” He pushed his hat up and down again. “He’s my stepfather, my mom’s husband. My father died when I was little, and um, I guess I could have pretended that I didn’t know him, pretended he wasn’t my stepfather, but that seemed weird.” He paused again. “And I didn’t want to . . . to go there about my father. You know, explain it.”
I looked away. I knew that feeling. I still flinched when people asked how many siblings I had. Mostly I said two. She was my sister. Had been my sister. But sometimes I said one. Sometimes it was too hard.
“When you showed up on my street that day . . . I don’t know . . . you were nice and normal, and well. Anyway.”
I made a face at him. “I was a mess that day.”
He grinned. “Well, sure, I mean you were hurt, but still, nice and normal.”
“Do you hang out with a lot of people who aren’t nice or normal?”
“I don’t really hang out with anyone. We moved here last fall, and I was supposed to start school in the spring, but . . .” His voice trailed off.
“But you didn’t,” I finished for him.
He took a bite of his apple, shook his head.
“You don’t like it here?” Maine wasn’t for everyone. Just ask my grandmother.
“I love it here.” He tossed the apple core into the ocean, where it bobbed and floated under the dock. “I deferred admission until September, but now I’m not sure I even want to go.”
“Is that why you moved here? For school?”
“Yes and no. Mom’s interior design business got hit hard with the recession. Ryland kept talking about how well he could do in his hometown with his charter business. When I got into Maine Maritime, it was sort of all the push she needed. She’s regretting it now, though. I’m not in school, there’s no charter business, and her husband fell off the wagon.” He glanced over at me, the explanation sounding like an apology. “He wasn’t always a jerk.”
I blushed. “I only met him once, and that word just blurted out of my mouth that day. It was more the ankle—”
“No. It’s fine. There are a lot of words to describe him lately, and jerk’s the nicest of them.” He said this with a smile on his face, but it faded quickly. “What happened that day? Between the two of you?”
“It’s a long story. I have a little sister, and I think your brother is bothering her. She’s had kind of a tough year. I was just going to ask him to stop bugging her, and then your stepfather was there, and I don’t know. Let’s just forget it.”
“Elliot’s picking on her?” His face colored. “That’s just great. Stepfather’s a drunk, and brother’s a bully. You must think I’m a real winner.” His voice was strained, and he shook his head. “Tell your sister he won’t bother her again. Okay? Gosh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t know the whole story. Kat can be, um, well, Kat. She said something about them racing each other, and how she beats him all the time. She’s not exactly a wallflower.” I smiled, trying to show him it wasn’t a big deal, but he looked embarrassed.
“El’s a good kid. Ryland’s tougher on him than me. Elliot was just a baby when my mom met Ryland, and he sort of raised him. Ryland always talks about how he was a jerk when he was younger. Sort of the high school bully. He doesn’t want Elliot to go down that path just because he’s bigger than everyone. But now that Ryland’s drinking, my mother kicked him out of the house until he stops. I think Elliot’s having a tough time dealing with it.”
I swallowed, felt my heart lurch. Out of the house? I tried not to think of my parents, of my father telling my mother she was killing him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Is your mom okay?”
“She’s pretty tough. Not one to take any crap. She’s sort of upset with me because I told her I was having second thoughts about going to school. I said it was because I wanted to stick around until Ryland got his act together. But it’s more than that. And she knows it. She’s not happy about me waffling on my future, as she puts it.”
I thought about this. “Maybe she needs to know plan B,” I said, using my father’s line.
Don’t complain to me about plan A, he’d say, until you have a plan B. He said it to Kat the entire season she threatened to quit her softball team. She’d whine and complain about how the other girls were only on the team because their parents made them play and they always lost. Finally after the last game, Kat told him that next year, she was going to join the boys’ baseball team. Aha, my father had said. Plan B.
“Is there a plan B?” I asked now.
“I hope,” he said. “I applied for an apprenticeship at a boat-building school in Brooklin. Way up north. It’s probably closer by boat. Sort of over there.” He pointed across the water.
“I know where it is,” I said, and he looked at me.
“Right. You’re from here.”
“From here.” I tapped the dock. “The part of Maine you’re talking about is like another country. You must really like boats to go up there.”
He laughed, his eyes resting on the skiff I had my foot propped up on. “Yours?” he asked, studying it, leaning over until his cheek was almost touching the dock.
“She’s my sister’s. Mine is a sailboat.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. My father wanted me to have her to learn on.” I heard my voice petering off, embarrassed that I might have come off as spoiled.
“No. I’m impressed that you called the boat she, not it.”
“You haven’t met my father. I knew what port and starboard were before I knew the alphabet.”
“So, where is the sailboat?” he asked.
“Behind our house, under a tarp. A crack in the hull. My dad keeps saying he’ll patch it, but I’m not holding my breath. It’s not like he has a lot of free time.”
He looked down at his watch. “Time. Oh, crap. I’ve got to run. My campers will be done with lunch in a minute.” He got to his feet and threw the paper bag in the barrel behind us.
“I should get back too,” I said, standing up and slipping on my sneakers.
We walked up the gangplank in silence. When we reached the back door of the shop, he stopped and turned to face me. He fiddled with the brim of his hat. Push, pull, push, pull.
“I could fix her,” he said finally. “The boat, I mean. I could take a look at the crack. See if I can help. Do something to make up for my family.”
“You gave me that ride and everything. You don’t have to do that.”
“Well, look at it this way. You’ll be doing me a favor. I’ll fix her and take some pictures. You get a working sailboat, and I get another project in my portfolio.” He tilted his head at me, his green eyes bright for the first time since he’d joined me at the dock.
“Yes,” I said, the word sneaking out before I could stop it. “I mean, okay. If you don’t mind.”
“Tomorrow? I’ll walk over after work and get you. I keep my truck in the town lot at the fields.”