Not Suitable For Family Viewing (9 page)

“Harvard,” I say. May as well really stick it to him.

“Oh, so you’re a rich kid” He seems to find that funny.

I just squint at him like it’s none of his business and let him make his own conclusions.

He smirks. “I figured as much. Well, I guess you come by it honestly, then.”

I pick at my ear with my baby finger and look out the window. I think he can gather from that just exactly how much I value his opinion.

He pretends not to notice. He goes, “I’m at Dalhousie. Couldn’t afford to go farther than that, but it’s okay. I’m doing a combined major in sociology and marine sciences…”

Oh crap. How was I supposed to know a big dolt like him could get into university? He’s going to figure out I’m lying. I hate it when that happens.

He says, “I’m sort of interested in the impact of these dying
communities myself. I guess that’s why Kay asked me to take you. She thought we’d have something in common.”

We both go, “Ha!” at exactly the same time. He laughs. I don’t.

He’s trying to be all pleasant again. He says, “What are you majoring in?”

I say, “I’d prefer not to discuss it, if you don’t mind.”

He sort of sings this little
la-di-da
thing under his breath. I stare straight out the window and hope that this is almost over.

Monday, 11 a.m.

You, You and Mimi

Today Mimi takes a good, long “Look at the Male Body.” Sure to be a hit with her eighty-seven percent female audience.

The houses stop. The road gets smaller. We go around a corner and suddenly there, spread out in the distance, is this beautiful beach. It takes me by surprise. I say, “Wow” before I can help myself.

I’ve seen tons of beaches. I’ve been to the Riviera, to Hawaii, to most of the islands in the Caribbean. This is as good as any of them.

We’re up high on a hill looking out at the ocean. The water is bright turquoise except where it splashes up against these giant boulders. They’re kind of square and jagged as if they’re made out of big, grey Lego pieces. The sand is really white. The beach seems to go on and on.

For some reason it makes me feel like crying.

Levi grabs the lunch bag and the towels. “C’mon,” he says. “I have to take you swimming. I promised Kay that I’d immerse the Evil Screeching Troll into the magical waters of Port Minton Bay.”

I do my best to ignore him. I get out of the van. The smell hits me. It’s not that dead-fish-seaweed-fart smell you sometimes get from the ocean. It’s the smell they must be thinking of when they name men’s aftershave “Seaspray.” It’s fresh and, I don’t know, sort of healthy or something.

Levi’s already partway down the hill. He’s waving at me and going, “C’mon!”

I can barely hear him over the wind. I take one last look at the view and follow him.

We cross a stream on this little boardwalk. Levi points to the right. He goes, “Those bogs over there are full of cranberries. People still come out here and pick them. They’re not supposed to, now that this is a government park, but there’s not much Dad can do about it.”

I go, “Dad?
Your
dad? What? He the boss of everyone around here or something?”

Levi laughs. “Guess that sounded kind of dumb, didn’t it? Dad’s the park warden. I pretty much grew up here. It’s one of the reasons I like it around here so much.”

“Seriously?” I say. “You
like
living here?”

He pulls his face back and looks at me. I think he’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not.

“Seriously,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says. “It suits me. I like being outside. I like to kayak and fish trout. My brother and me are building a little camp up on the river—so I’m not bored…for now anyway. I’d probably go nuts if I stayed here forever. It’s too small. There are times I think I’m going to lose it if I hear Alec Evans make the same bad joke or hear Krystal complain about her hair again.”

There’s this awkward pause when he says “Krystal” and we both sort of look away, then he just goes, “Yeah, whatever,” and heads down the path. He grabs the back of his T-shirt and pulls it off over his head.

“Some hot,” he says.

Not that hot,
I think.

He’s got those shoulders Debbie was talking about. I try not to look.

We get to the beach and I want to just stand there and gawk at it, but Levi says, “No. Don’t stop here. It’s better farther along. Kay wants you to see the seals.”

He pulls his sneakers off with his toes and leaves them on the beach. I do the same thing. The sand’s so soft my foot twists with each step. It makes me walk with this huge wiggle, like I’m some cartoon hottie or something. I think about Debbie making that crack about my va-va-va-voom figure. I must look like I actually believe it.

We have to climb over this big boulder to get to the next part of the beach. Levi scrambles up like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I grab onto a little notch and get one leg halfway up but then just keep sliding back down. I feel like the fat kid in gym class who can’t get onto the second rung of the monkey bars.

Levi’s standing on a ledge. He hunches down and sticks his hand out.

“Here,” he says.

He gives me one good yank and I’m up on the rock and standing way too close to him. I can’t move or I’ll fall back down. I can smell his aftershave or his deodorant or whatever. I go, “Um…”

He goes, “Sorry,” and steps back.

I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to someone else’s skin before. At least not like that.

We climb to the top of the boulder. There are these little pools where water must have splashed up. The boulder is kind of speckly grey and silver. The water’s bright blue with rusty orange stuff around the sides. It makes me want to try painting again.

Levi says, “On windy days, the waves come up this high. They can pull you out to sea in a second. Lots of people have died that way.”

I go, “Gee, thanks for taking me here.”

“Don’t worry. I’d save you.” He winks. “Maybe.”

I think about saying something like
I can take care of myself,
but that’s just asking for it. He saw me trying to climb up that boulder.

He laughs. “We’re okay. It’s pretty calm today.” He points, “Hey, look! Seals!”

I look. I see water. Rocks. Water splashing against rocks. And that’s about all.

I say, “Where?”

“Over by those islands. See?”

I squint. I shake my head. It’s a big ocean.

“Those black things. In the water. There! Can’t you see them?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about.

He gets behind me. He crouches down so his chin’s leaning on my shoulder. I’m completely frozen. I feel like a mannequin in the plus-size department. He changes the angle of my body, then takes my right hand in his and points again.

He moves my finger around and goes, “One, two, three, four—do you see them now?”

“Yeah,” I say. They look like scuba divers coming up for air. At
another time, I might be interested, but right now all I can think about is my heart and Levi and my weird thumbnails that he’s no doubt noticed and the scratch of his whiskers on my shoulder.

I say, “Thank you,” then wiggle my hand out of his and step away.

We’re both embarrassed now.

He says, “Okay, well, yeah, good. You saw your seals.” He stands there nodding, with his hands on his hips.

I don’t know what to do with my eyes.

After a while, he sort of mumbles, “O-kay…” then he turns and scrambles down the other side of the boulder. He jumps the last few feet onto the sand and holds his hand up to help me too.

I don’t take it. I jump and pretend it doesn’t hurt at all.

“The best swimming place is at the end of this beach,” he says. “You get a warm current there.”

I nod and keep walking. Neither of us says anything. Is this as awkward for him as it is for me?

These tiny sandpipers scurry along the water’s edge on their little stick legs. Even in my stupor, I can see how cute they are. I can’t believe Disney hasn’t done an animated feature about sandpipers yet. I should suggest that to Mom. She knows the people at Disney.

Mom.

She might have walked here. Swum here. Maybe even come here with the “ring” boy.

I stop. I look around. I can’t picture it. Beaches for Mimi have lounge chairs and waiters and access to the Internet. She’s not the seal/sandpiper type at all. You’d think spending time in a place like this would do something to you. Would show.

It doesn’t.

Levi goes, “Tired?”

“Uh, no,” I say. “I was just, like, looking. It’s nice.”

He turns to the water. His face is all squinted up from the glare. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s pretty awesome. I never get tired of it.”

He rubs his hands through his hair, then starts walking again. I follow a bit behind. We’re alone. There’s not a soul on the beach. I can’t help looking at his back, his shoulders. He’s like a triangle or rhombus or something. He’s not all gross and bulgy like those Mr. Universe mutants. He’s muscly but kind of slim too. I didn’t think he’d be that slim. On the ladder he was just this scary blur.

I feel like one of those sick guys flipping through the dirty magazines at the back of the store. I try to look away but my eyes keep slipping back, taking another peek.

Yeah, okay. He’s strong. So what? He’s not perfect. There’s this bony knob on the top of each of his shoulders. He’s got tan lines from wearing a T-shirt all the time. There are a couple of chicken pox scars on his neck.

He swings a hand over his shoulder and scratches. One of his nails is purple as if he slammed it with a hammer. You can see big white half-moon cuticles on each of his fingers. The muscles in his other arm tense up when he finds the itchy part. I can see them all, like he’s a picture in a biology text or something. How does someone get like that?

He turns around and catches me staring at the line that kind of swoops down the middle of his back.

I go, “Uh…”

He goes, “Yeah?”

I go, “Nothing.”

“Nothing? You look like you were going to say something.”

“Um…well, no. Not really.”

He tilts his chin down and goes, “Just say it.”

“I don’t know…I was just wondering what you do, I guess. I mean, like, for work. You know. When you’re not at school. Kay said you had a day off so, like, I figure you must work.” Why can’t I just shut up?

“Our family’s got a woodlot, so I work there.” He keeps one hand on his chest while he talks. I don’t look at it. “Other than that, I do handyman stuff for people. Nothing fancy. You know, joe jobs. Pushin’, shovin’, liftin’—that kind of thing.”

I remember him pulling that suitcase of mine into the car and my stomach jumps.

“Oh,” I say.

How stupid is that.

“I bet you’d be good at it.”

He laughs. “That’s me, all right. Strong body, weak mind.” He makes a muscle and sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth. “Duh.”

“I didn’t mean that,” I said. “I just meant…” There’s no way out of this.

“Yesss…”

“I don’t know what I meant.” I turn away. “Are we almost there?”

He laughs again. “If you’d quit stopping we would be. You anxious to get there or something? I can take you the fast way if you want.”

“Sure,” I say.

He grabs my hand and starts running. Like, I mean,
burning
down the beach.

I’m screaming, “What are you doing? What are you doing?”

“You wanted to go the fast way!”

I can’t breathe. I’m running too hard. My legs can barely keep up. They’re flopping around behind me as if I’m one of those goofy albatross birds coming in for a landing. This is ridiculous. I’m trying to be mad but I can’t. I start to laugh. I wish I’d worn my sports bra. I put one arm across my chest to keep my boobs from knocking me unconscious.

Just when I’m sure I’m going to trip and/or die, Levi throws himself down on the beach. I almost land right on top of him. I have to spit sand out of my mouth. I sit up and punch him on the shoulder a few times but he just laughs and laughs and laughs. I flop down on the beach. We both lie there with our eyes closed for a while, trying to catch our breath.

“Phew,” he says. “Good thing I’m used to pulling heavy objects.”

I, like, gasp. I can’t believe he said that.

He goes, “Just kidding!” and gives me a little shove.

I don’t laugh. He doesn’t notice.

He sits up and claps his hands to get the sand off. “Okay,” he says. “Time for our swim!”

“No,” I say.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I’m not going swimming.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

He’s finally picking up the vibes. “Why?”

I don’t say anything. I sit up. I look away. I want to go home.

He groans. “Oh, come on. You’re not mad about that ‘heavy object’ joke, are you?”

“No.”

“You are too!”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it’s not a joke.”

“What are you talking about?”

I look right at him. I want to make him squirm. “Why would you make fun of a heavy person’s weight?” He’s not as nice as he thinks he is.

He goes, “At the risk of repeating myself, what are you talking about? Or should I say,
who
are you talking about?”

He knows who.

“Who’s heavy around here?” he says.

I hate him.

He stands up. “You can’t be serious. Please tell me you don’t honestly think you’re fat.”

This is humiliating. Why do I always do this to myself? Running along the beach, I was almost liking him. I should have known this was coming.

He leans down until his face is right beside mine. I think he’s going to whisper something in my ear. I’d swat him, only I’m afraid that would just encourage him.

He doesn’t whisper in my ear. He takes my glasses off and puts them on the sand.

I go, “Hey!”

Before I can figure out what’s happening, he puts one hand behind my back and the other under my knees and picks me up.

I can’t help it. My arms go around his shoulders.

I say, “What are you doing?”

He’s smiling. “Who are you talking about?” he says. He makes it sound like this is just a normal little chit-chat over cappuccinos.

I glare at him.

He goes, “O-kay, then. You leave me no choice…” He throws me up in the air and catches me.

I squeal. I can’t believe he did that! I grab onto his neck. That cracks him up. I take my arms away and cross them on my chest.

I say, “Will you please put me down?”

He goes, “Gladly—just as soon as you tell me who you’re talking about.”

I go, “Shut. Up.”

He throws me up in the air again. He makes this big
Ooof
sound when he catches me. “Wow,” he says. “You weigh a ton.”

I try to look mad.

He goes, “Jeez…I don’t know how many more times I can do this. Would you mind just telling me who you’re talking about before my arms break off?”

I give him one of those
you’re a jerk
smiles. He throws me up in the air again.

He goes, “Oh boy. I think I’ve had it. This is killing me.”

“Good,” I say, but I kind of don’t mean it. “You can put me down, then.”

He says, “I will,” but he doesn’t. He starts walking into the water.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“I’m putting you down.”

“Where?”

“In the water.”

“No! I’ll get all wet!”

“No wonder you got into Harvard! You’re a very smart girl. Not everyone immediately makes the connection between ‘water’ and ‘wet.’”