The Salt House

Jess motioned with her hand for me to hurry to the good part.

“So we’re sitting under the tree, and my counselors are all standing together under the long branches looking at this guy who is sitting on the hood of his truck. I didn’t see what the big deal was—he was just some guy with a baseball hat on looking at his watch every two seconds. But Abby, my counselor, was going on and on about him. She said she’d seen him around town but didn’t know his name or where he was from. She goes, ‘Oh my God, he is so cute,’ and Alyssa, my other counselor, says, ‘So, so, so cute!’?”

I mimicked them, my voice high, hand movements and all, thinking Jess would laugh. But her face was stone.

“My ice cream was dripping down my hand, so I had better things to do than care about what they were talking about, but then Smelliot next to me, who got to eat at the tree because he came in second in the race—well, he said he tied me, and then cried like a baby when I told him he didn’t, so they called it a tie, but it wasn’t, not even close—”

“Kat!”

“Okay! So Smelliot says, that’s my brother and points to the kid that they’re talking about. And Abby and Alyssa go nuts, swarming all over him, asking a million questions about how old his brother is, where he goes to school . . . blah, blah, blah.”

“He pointed at Alex?” Jess asked.

“Are you even paying attention? Yes, Alex. Who do you think?”

“Well, what did he say about him?”

“He said his brother’s name was Alex and he was eighteen and they moved here from North Carolina, and he’s going to college somewhere up here.”

Jess closed her eyes, and when she opened them, I could tell she was putting two and two together.

“And then I walked up,” Jess said slowly, her voice a whisper.

“Yup. I almost dropped my ice cream when you climbed up on the hood next to him. And I almost threw up when he scooched over until he was as close as he could get to you.”

“He wasn’t that close. I was just sitting next to him.”

“Your legs were touching.”

“Our shorts may have been touching. It’s not a big deal.”

“Dad would think it was a big deal.”

Jess’s face colored. I wrinkled my nose at her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” I asked.

“We’re just friends, Kat.”

“How do you even know him?”

“I met him the day I went to talk to that kid. I hurt my ankle, and he drove me home. He came to the dock after that, and we just started talking. Anyway, what about the girlfriend part? You said you knew something about a girlfriend.”

I’d only seen them together for five minutes that day. Our snack time had ended right after Jess showed up, and my next activity was across the field. When I came back to the tree later, they were gone. But I’d seen her face when she climbed on the hood next to him. The way she looked at him. They hadn’t touched, really. I was just digging for more information. But they had sat close to each other, close enough that Abby, my counselor, had asked if that girl was his girlfriend. I didn’t offer up that that girl was my sister, mostly because my mouth was still on the ground.

But Smelliot had shook his head.

“I don’t know who that is,” he’d said, pointing to Jess, “but my brother has a girlfriend in North Carolina. Her name is Amy, and they’re getting married someday.”

I told Jess this part of the story, and she starting pacing up and down the floor of the bedroom, her thumbnail in her mouth, chomping away. I raised my eyebrows.

“So, um, who is Amy?”

“Huh?” Jess looked at me from a million miles away.

“Amy . . . the girlfriend? The one he’s going to marry?”

Jess sat on the bed, stood up, and started pacing again. This was what she meant when she did the little side-to-side nod, the nod when she agreed to tell me everything. Apparently everything meant nothing.

“Sounds like a love triangle,” I said. Emphasis on love.

Jess screwed up her face at me. “Where did you hear that?”

“I know things, Jessica. I’m almost ten. Double digits.” I held up one finger and made a circle with my other hand to show her the number.

“You’re eight, and you don’t know things. Where did you hear it?”

I sighed. “Abby said it when Smelliot told us about Amy. She looked right at you two and said, ‘Well, it looks like the new boy in town has a little love triangle.’?”

“That sounds like Abby.” Jess made a disgusted noise. She sat on the bed and stared at the wall. She stayed that way while I watched her. Jess was hard to read, like Mom, always quiet when they got upset. I hated how it changed the mood in the house. Dad and I had the tempers, but at least the upset didn’t sit in the house, make it hard to breathe or move. That’s how it felt now. Like a wool blanket was on top of us.

I slid over on the bed next to her until my shoulder rested against her side. She didn’t look at me, but I felt her lean against me. I knew she was thinking about Alex. Alex who hadn’t told her about his girlfriend. Alex who wasn’t her boyfriend. I hoped he just went away, back to North Carolina, along with his brother and his lies about my parents getting divorced.





?19


Jess


The week had been busy, and I was glad for it. It was August, and the tourist season in Alden was in full swing. The shop was closed on Sundays, and I had Saturday off, but Monday through Friday, my alarm went off at seven in the morning. I showered at night and let my hair air-dry. Most mornings it was still damp when I pulled it into a ponytail. I tried not to think about how Alex said my hair was a color he’d never seen.

I tried not to think about Alex at all.

I hadn’t seen him since we argued last Friday. I’d spent the rest of the weekend with Bets, catching up with her now that she was home. When she asked me what I’d been doing all summer, Alex’s name was on the tip of my tongue. But I didn’t mention him. I was afraid once I said his name out loud, I wouldn’t be able to stop talking about him. To stop thinking about him.

Monday took forever to arrive. And then at lunch, Alex wasn’t there. I’d walked over to his truck to have lunch in our usual spot in the parking lot, and the space was empty. I’d wanted to talk to him about what happened. To tell him I knew about Amy. To ask what it meant. I’d sat on the curb next to the spot, bit into my apple, and waited. I left when fifteen minutes had passed. When I knew he wasn’t coming.

He wasn’t there on Tuesday or Wednesday either. On Thursday, I went back to my spot on the deck where I always used to eat before I met Alex. I figured if he wanted to see me, he knew where to find me. Then again, he would’ve known where to find me all week.

Now, it was Friday. A week since we’d kissed.

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