The Lies About Truth(6)

He tapped his backpack. “You’re a teenager now. We have to make it real.”

“We didn’t make it real when you turned thirteen,” I argued, but really, I was pretty damn excited for whatever came next.

“That’s because you weren’t thirteen yet.”

We laughed at his logic and walked through the soft sand toward the water’s edge. The west jetty stretched like a long rock finger into the Gulf, creating a semi-boundary between the bay, Destin Harbor, and the open ocean. The jetty, like most things at the beach, looked closer than it was. Piers and markers often tricked your eyes, but Trent and I had made this walk to fish and snorkel plenty of times. Lights from the bridge and a nearly full moon accented the water with golden stripes. At one of the nearby bars, some wannabe Jimmy Buffett strummed his guitar and sang about pirates. The music and the moonlight and the wind felt like our best friends.

Trent interrupted the walk with words. Questions. Always questions. What did I want for my birthday? (A visit to FSU’s planetarium.) Were we going to see my grandmother? (No.) Did I think Gray would get me a cool gift? (Yes. He’d given me a gift early—a metal stamped necklace with the longitude and latitude of the Fountain of Youth Park.)

“Balls, that’s cool,” Trent said of the necklace.

We made it to the jetty in about forty-five minutes, sticking close to the shore, even though it was tempting to check out the bird sanctuary when there was no one around to tell us not to. Getting caught by our parents was one thing; getting caught by some surveillance camera was another.

Trent must have known I worried a little about us getting away with this, because he said, “It’s your birthday, Sadie May. Even if we get caught, we’ve practically got a free pass.”

He made a good point.

Laughing, we stepped up on the rocks and checked our balance, and it felt like we were walking on water. The ocean lapped around us, and I wondered if the tides were going in or out. After scrambling thirty-five feet down the jetty and being careful with the slick places and the barnacles, Trent sat down and unzipped his backpack.

“We’re not going to the end?” I asked.

“No need.”

Unsure of what was about to happen, I watched him remove a cigarette, a lighter, and a thermos. I sat down next to him in anticipation.

“Now, what we have here is a unique opportunity.” He lit the cigarette and passed it to me.

I didn’t have a clue what to do, and I told him as much.

“Just inhale and then blow out.”

I did.

I coughed.

He laughed.

I tried again.

I blew zero smoke rings in my two triumphant drags.

He took the cigarette back, puffed one cloud (also not a ring), and then stubbed it out against the rock. “One down,” he bragged. “Now, this.”

“Are you going to get me drunk, Trent McCall?”

“On a cup of wine? Hardly. This is for the experience. We have the rest of our lives to get wasted.”

“Are you going to bring Gina out here for her birthday?”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Tonight’s your night, little sister.”

I loved it when he called me family. Trent and Max weren’t just next-door neighbors. Mom and Dad teased that they got stuck with me, but they chose the boys. We’d been fighting and getting in trouble and eating mac and cheese together all our lives. Mac-and-cheese bonds are stronger than blood swears.

Trent twisted the thermos lid and passed me the container. Tipping my nose toward the liquid, I recognized it. Pinot grigio. My parents drank it after dinner, and no self-respecting kid with a box of wine in her fridge resisted sampling the wares.

I took an easy sip and said, “Cheers,” even though there were no glasses to clink.

Trent tipped up the thermos and echoed my cheers. He returned it to his pack. “Now, you don’t have to do the next part if you don’t want, but I totally think we should because we’ll laugh our asses off about it someday.”

“I’m up for anything.”

Trent popped me hard in the biceps. “You sure about that?” He peeled off his shirt.

Skinning. Oh, right. I hadn’t asked what he meant by that earlier because I hadn’t wanted to know, but now, I had a very good idea.

He slid off his shoes.

He shimmied out of his cutoffs.

“Too far?” he asked.

“Um . . .”

“You don’t have to.” He shook his head convincingly. “I was only going for the trifecta of adulthood.”

“No. I’m game. As long as we get in before we really strip down.”

More relieved than surprised, I set to work, removing my shoes, T-shirt, and shorts, until I had a bathing suit that was an underwear edition. We were awkward with a side of awkward. Like two kids at camp who discover the showers don’t have doors.

I jumped in first. The water was July-warm and perfect. Trent cannonballed in next to me, laughing as he resurfaced.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I splashed him in the face.

His face pinked. “Gray said the same thing.”

Awesome. He’d done this with Gray.

“And you’re going to do it with Gina,” I said.

He giggled.

I shouldn’t have used the words do it.