The Rest of the Story(19)

I nodded, as if I’d heard this name, even though I hadn’t. “He still lives here?”

He looked at me for a second. “No, not anymore. I live with my mom.” He pointed to a line of houses down the shore from Mimi’s, each painted a different bright color—yellow, blue, pink, red, and green—and trimmed with white. “Ours is the green one.”

“Who has the pink?”

“Renters, usually,” he said. “Season just started, though.”

“How many people live here year-round?” I asked.

He was slowing the engine now. “More than you’d think. A lot, like Celeste, have houses they rent out for summer.”

“I thought she lived with Mimi,” I said.

“Only from June to August,” he replied. “The rest of the time they have a place up by Blackwood Station, right on the water.”

“Blackwood Station,” I said. “I feel like I’ve heard of that.”

“You probably have. It’s the only boatyard in town. Plus, the arcade is right there, and the public beach.”

I looked in that direction, getting my bearings, then back up at Mimi’s house, now right in front of us. As I did, I saw Celeste, standing in the grass, one hand shading her eyes as she looked out at us. I couldn’t make out her expression.

“And Celeste is a Blackwood, right?” I asked.

“She was. Her ex-husband, Silas, runs the boatyard and gas station. Been in his family for generations.”

Now I had something else to add to my family tree. “But you’re not a Blackwood or Calvander,” I said, clarifying.

“Nope.” He cut the engine, letting us drift up to the dock. “Silas, Celeste, my dad, my mom, and yours all went to high school together. There’s only one, the same one we all go to now.”

I tried to picture my own parents at my school, Jackson High, walking the same halls I did with Ryan and Bridget. I couldn’t. Nana Payne and my dad lived in Massachusetts when he was in high school, and my mom was, well, here.

“It’s a lot, all this new information,” I said. “I’m honestly having some trouble keeping up.”

“Well, then you need to start asking people their five sentences.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Their what?”

“It’s a lake thing,” he explained. “The basic idea is that since you meet a ton of people at the beginning of every summer, everyone has to condense their bio down to the main ideas. Thus, five sentences.”

“Right,” I said slowly. “What’s yours?”

He cleared his throat. “Born and bred here at North Lake. High school senior this fall. Work multiple jobs. Want to go to journalism school. Allergic to shellfish.”

“Wow,” I said. “Didn’t see that shellfish part coming.”

“An element of surprise and oddity is crucial with this,” he told me. “Hit me with yours.”

“I need five in all?”

“Start with one.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking it over. “Well, I’m from Lakeview. Also about to be a high school senior.”

“Coming out strong,” he said as we hit a wave, water splashing over the bow. “I like it. Go on.”

“My mom grew up here at the lake,” I continued, “but this is my first real visit. I came once as a kid, but I don’t really remember.”

“Nice,” he said. “Facts and intrigue. Now you need something random and memorable.”

I thought for a second. “People don’t get my humor.”

“Meaning?”

“I think I’m funny, but other people often don’t laugh.”

“I know that feeling,” he said.

“You do?” I hadn’t met anyone who could relate before.

“Yep,” he said. “Okay, now for the strong finish. Your shellfish allergy, so to speak. What’s it going to be?”

I had to admit, I was feeling the pressure. Especially as the seconds ticked by and nothing came. What could I say? I was nervous to the point of obsessive? I liked organizing things?

Roo did not rush me. He just waited.

Finally, I had it. “I read the obituaries every day.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Okay, that is good,” he said, then held his hand up for a high five. I slapped it. “You, in five sentences. Nicely done.”

Me, in five sentences. All facts, some informative, some colorful. Not really all that different from the obits themselves, now that I thought of it. Only shorter, while you’re living, and still have time to add more.

Roo slowed the engine, then stopped it entirely, and we drifted up to the dock. As he hopped off the boat, pulling the line with him, I heard the thump of footsteps coming down the dock. Looking up, I saw Trinity approaching, now in a flowing black maxi dress, her hair wet. She looked grumpy, but considering this had been a constant each time I’d crossed her path so far, maybe it was just her face.

“Hey,” Roo called. “What’s up?”

“Mimi says you should stay for dinner,” she replied. “Since you brought her in, and everything.”

Her was me. Apparently. While I was not sure what five sentences Trinity would pick, I was pretty sure one would cover the fact that she really didn’t like me.