The Kind Worth Saving (Henry Kimball/Lily Kintner, #2)(24)

“What kind of beer is this?” Joan said, just to have something to say.

“It’s Coors Light. You like it? We have other stuff too. We got J?ger.”

“The beer is fine,” Joan said, and one of the sisters said she’d do a J?ger shot, and then the bottle was being passed around. When it got to Joan she said she’d do one shot, and she tipped the bottle to her lips, but only sipped a tiny bit.

“It’s no martini,” one of the older boys said.

“No, it’s not,” Joan said, and looked at him until he looked away. Then she twisted her beer can into the sand so it wouldn’t tip over, and said, “I’m going to take off soon, it’s kind of cold out here.”

“You’re wearing jeans and a sweatshirt,” Duane said. “Look at me.” He stood up to demonstrate he was only wearing cargo shorts and a T-shirt.

“We’re pretty cold, too,” said one of the other girls, and then one of the older guys said that his place wasn’t too far away from here, and they could all go there and smoke some pot.

Joan stood up and said she really did need to get back to the hotel, that her parents would probably be checking on her soon, and if she wasn’t in her room they’d have a fit.

“You aren’t going to show off your gymnast’s moves first?” Duane said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re a gymnast, aren’t you? Let’s see something.”

“Yeah, let’s see a split,” one of the older guys said, lighting a new cigarette.

The sand was packed hard where they were all sitting so Joan did a quick handstand, holding it for a few seconds. Everyone clapped. “I’m heading back,” she said.

“I’ll walk you,” Duane said, and Joan shrugged. “I’ll be back,” he said, as the two of them headed in the direction of the hotel.

“Yeah, right,” one of the boys shouted, and Joan looked back. The two sisters had stood up, as well, and she could hear the guys begging them to stay a little longer.

“I don’t really need to be walked back,” Joan said.

“I don’t mind taking a break from those guys. Besides, it’s pretty dark out.” He was acting as though they hadn’t been on this beach before, her trying to get away from him, him squeezing her arm and calling her a tease. Maybe he actually had forgotten?

They crossed the road, an oncoming car casting them briefly in yellow light. When they got to the lawn, he pressed his hand against her lower back, and said, “Slow down, will ya?”

“Why?”

“I want to keep hanging out with you. Seriously, you’re like the only cool person in this place. Why don’t you show me another one of your gymnastics moves?”

“I probably shouldn’t, not without stretching. I might hurt myself. Besides, I don’t want to be a tease.”

“Hey, look, I’m sorry about that. I was just plastered, that’s all. I’m not like that, though. I just want to hang out.” Joan could feel that he’d grabbed a bunch of her sweatshirt and was tugging her toward him. Looking at his face in the moonlight she saw the same thing in his eyes that she’d seen a few nights before, a wolfish look, like hunger. If they were still on the beach she thought she’d be in trouble. Even here on the lawn she considered running, then made a quick decision and gave him a hug, saying “Let’s hang out again this week, okay? Just the two of us.”

He hugged back, then let her go. “Sure, anytime.” His voice was hoarse and just as she was turning to leave she saw him adjust the material around his crotch.

She walked the rest of the way to the front of the hotel herself. There was cigar smoke in the air, and as she went up the wooden steps to the wide front porch, an older man on one of the rockers said, “It’s nice being young, eh?”

Joan pretended she didn’t hear him and entered the lobby.



The following day, because she didn’t want to have to deal with Duane, she agreed to drive with her parents to Ogunquit. They had lunch at a pretty good restaurant, even though her father kept saying how they were basically paying double for lunch because they could be eating at the Windward. Then they walked on a path that wound along the rocky coast and got ice cream in a place called Perkins Cove, sitting at a picnic table and watching boats come and go on the water.

“You having fun on this trip?” her mother asked. They were sitting on a bench near a cluster of shops while her father browsed in a used bookstore.

“Yeah,” Joan said, as brightly as possible, not wanting to have a conversation about her feelings with her mom.

“Oh, okay. Just checking. Sometimes I can’t read you at all, not like Lizzie.”

“Lizzie is having fun on this trip,” Joan said.

“Yes, she certainly is.”

“Do you think that girl Denise is her girlfriend?”

“I think your sister is in an experimental phase, if that’s what you mean. I’m not sure she knows exactly who she is right now.”

Joan, not really caring one way or another about her sister, talked about it with her mother for a while, only to avoid having to answer questions about herself.

“Here’s your father, with a stack of books he won’t read,” her mother said, and they each watched her father step out of the store and squint into the sunlight, trying to find his family. “Let’s stop talking about Lizzie for now. I’m not sure your father’s handling this new version of her.”