Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(98)
As soon as Mica and I had turned sixteen two months ago, we took our lifeguard exam and made it onto the beach patrol, which meant this summer I would get paid to sit on the beach. The basic lifeguard test required all over the world was just the first step here, but I had ten weeks to collect the certifications I’d need to be a proper surf lifeguard and get an invitation to join The Guard.
Billy looked at the pink of the sky, picked up the keg and plopped it into the passenger seat of the small electric vehicle that looked like the baby of a golf cart and a pick up truck. Golfies and dune buggies served as transportation on Pinhold. Proper cars and gas engines of any kind were banned for environmental reasons. “That puts you lot in the back,” he said, gesturing to the flatbed portion of the tiny thing.
I attempted to climb up into the truck and came up on the limits of my short skirt, falling backwards into Blake. Luckily, he caught me before we both tumbled to the ground. His huge square hands stayed on my hips, holding me up. I jumped away from him quickly.
“Klutz,” said Mica, putting his hands on the rails and vaulting gracefully into the back.
“Let me help you,” Blake offered, lifting me over the side and into the flatbed, following me in with ease. I crammed against Mica to sit down, but no matter how I wiggled, we were not all going to fit.
“This worked a lot better last summer,” Blake said in that smooth, slow tone that made everyone lean in to hear him talk.
“All the extra workouts, bro,” Mica said, giving Blake a high five.
I squirmed away from both of them, standing again.
“I’ll walk,” said Blake, getting up like a gentleman so there was room for me.
“Nah,” said Mica, squinting his silvery eyes at the setting sun. “Can’t be late. Cami can sit on your lap.”
When the boys had satisfactorily arranged their legs, I settled on Blake, gingerly, trying not to get close. Then Billy gunned the gas and I fell hard onto Blake’s lap as the cart took off. We were speeding way to fast for me to adjust my position, so I looked around trying to distract myself from how uncomfortable I felt having this much physical contact with Blake. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, I did. It’s just that we had less than zero chemistry. That, combined with my family’s insistence that he was perfect for me, made me keep my distance physically.
It wasn’t hard to find something that captured my eyes. Our sunsets rivaled any wonder in the world. Pink light glinted off the bay on one side and the ocean on another, sparkling on the narrow gravel road made from tiny pieces of the black stone we quarried here.
We slowed down through the center of town to avoid the day-trippers who walked slowly back to the ferry, blissed out and happily exhausted from their beach day.
“Mainer,” Mica muttered under his breath, when a cute guy with a surfboard locked eyes with me.
Visitors from the mainland keep the Island going, but most of us who live here have a love/hate relationship with them. Except for me. I smiled back only to get an elbow in the gut from Mica.
“Be nice,” Billy called from the front. “Those folks will pay your salary this summer and make it possible to sustain The Guard, which you’ll appreciate soon. If you get in, of course.”
“Have you seen me swim lately? I’ve beat all the local records—even yours,” Mica said.
“Tonight’s not about speed, man—swimming from the little island to here is meant to represent rebirth,” said Billy.
“Don’t get all Yoda on me, Billy,” laughed Liam. “This is Pinhold. If you’re in the water, it’s a race.”
“For Nippers like you, yes. But The Guard’s about other things,” Billy warned, wrestling the golfie onto the bumpier path down to the beach. It was kitted out with dune buggy wheels, but hardly a smooth ride.
“My Nipper days are long gone. After three years in the Junior Guard I’m more than ready for the big game,” Mica said in a casual voice that hid his feelings. Those he sent to me—dark, angry feels that clicked directly from his brain to mine. Like telepathic text messaging that I both loved and hated. Mica was half of my heart—but, I could never be alone with my thoughts. He saw everything that mattered to me, our secrets sent in clicks and symbols and feelings, back and forth even when we didn’t want to share.
On a harsh hitch I flew sideways, bouncing back down on Blake. “I got you,” Blake said, keeping his arms around me this time. This was Blake, polite and protective. Charming to a fault, protective of everyone. Being this close to him disrupted my equilibrium, and not in a good way. It got worse with every bump and blip. Each time we moved, he’d adjust his arm around me, pulling me closer. Between the forced contact and the bouncing truck, I felt nauseous by the time we arrived at the private beach where the party would be held.
Nippers and the Junior Guard—kids younger than us who were not participating in the ceremony or attending the party—were preparing the beach for the bonfire. Islanders sixteen and up were welcome to stay for the fun, but most people over twenty-five or so never did. Mica and I were the oldest of five sets of twins born within six months of each other after a ten-year dry spell when only a handful of babies had been born at all. In Billy’s year, he was the only one. Growing up there weren’t many kids on the Island close to his age, so he was very happy when we came along when he was eight. He was there almost every day of my childhood, taking care of Kaleb and Blake, and Mica and me.