Tangled (4 page)

The next morning, Luce insisted we visit this beach famous for its clear water and sugary white sand. I overheard Skye telling her mom that she’d rather stay at the resort, that she’d get carsick on the winding roads. Honestly, I was hoping to stay back, too, but it was our last full day so Luce declared it a mandatory outing.

We left Paradise after breakfast and stopped in a nearby grocery store to load up on picnic supplies. As my mom and Luce cruised the aisles, Skye and I stood near the front. Skye was staring at a Spanish soap opera on a TV mounted from the ceiling. I was leaning against the wall, blinking back sleep.

I didn’t go to bed last night until two twenty. Dakota and I had fooled around in that tent and then we just
lay there listening to the ocean. The next thing I knew he was asleep. I stayed still for the longest time, watching him. His lips were parted, his arms slung by his sides. I couldn’t help wondering how many other girls have laid next to him like this. Dozens, I bet. Then I started obsessing about how Dakota is eighteen and maybe I should have given him that handjob after all and how I probably came across as totally inexperienced. What did I think a gorgeous eighteen-year-old guy was going to expect? An Eskimo kiss?

“You got in late last night,” Skye said.

I glanced at her. The soap opera had broken for a commercial and she was examining one of her manicured fingernails.

“I guess,” I said.

“Were you with that suburban guy?”

“He’s from a small town,” I said. “Not a suburb.”

“What’s up with you two?”

“We were just hanging out,” I said.

Skye shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Skye said, looking up at the television again.

When we piled back in the car, Skye climbed into the front seat. My mom was in the rear next to me. Almost
immediately, she and Luce launched into a sing-along. I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes. By the time we got to the beach, the sun was high in the sky. Luce parked the car under a grove of palm trees. I slid my feet into my flip-flops and we all grabbed our stuff and trekked toward the water.

My mom and Luce lay some towels under a sprawling Tamarind tree. Skye dove into the shade. As she plugged in her earphones and the moms meandered down the beach in search of shells, I stared at the clear turquoise bay.

I wanted to go in so badly.

(But there’s no way I could strip down in front of Skye.)

When would I get another chance to swim in calm Caribbean water?

(But how could I deal with the humiliation of Skye seeing my body? I’d been so careful all week, changing in the bathroom, wearing long T-shirts and boxers to bed.)

Then I reminded myself of Dakota. I thought about how much he’d swooned over my boobs. He basically didn’t take his hands off them the whole time we were kissing. And I wondered if maybe I’m not so bad after all. Maybe I’m actually a little bit luscious, like
Grandma Belle says.

Luscious
, I thought. That’s what I’ll be. Not perfect. Not flawless. Luscious.

I pulled up my shirt, kicked off my shorts, and jogged across the beach in my tankini. As I splashed into the salty water, I thought about what Dakota had told me that first night, how he liked to venture out in search of dangerous currents. My whole life, I’ve always picked the safe route, but maybe that’s starting to change. Maybe since meeting Dakota I’ve realized I need to live more, take more risks.

I swam farther out and then turned onto my back. My body sank into the water. I took a deep breath, held it in my lungs, and floated to the surface again. The sun was fierce on my cheeks. The water was lapping around my ears. I exhaled, took another breath, and stared up at the sky.

After a while, I did a mermaid dive and plunged as far into the water as I could go. When I bobbed up again, gasping for air, I thought,
Let this be the start of a whole new Jena.

When we got back to Paradise, my mom and Luce left for their spa appointments. I wrapped my new sarong over my tankini and grabbed my cards. As I headed
down to the beach, I could feel myself walking differently, a little sway to my hips.

Skye was stretched on a lounge chair in the shade, watching a show on her iPhone. With her oversized sunglasses and her hair twisted up, she looked every bit the glamorous movie star. Yesterday, I would have screeched on the brakes, U-turned, and parked at the pool area instead. But not the new me, with my top riding lusciously low, my skin clearing up from the sun, finally a little tan going on. The new me sat on the chair next to Skye and began shuffling my cards.

A few minutes later, Dakota tapped my shoulder.

“Hey!” I said. I couldn’t help it, but my pulse raced at the sight of him and I got an instant smile on my face.

“I thought I saw you coming down here. What’s up?”

“Not much.”
Sound relaxed
, I instructed myself.
Be the new me
. “We just got back a little while ago.”

Dakota glanced over at Skye.

“Oh, this is Skye,” I said as casually as possible. “Skye, this is Dakota.”

Dakota nodded his chin in Skye’s direction. Skye said hi back to him.

“Listen,” Dakota said to me. “I’m about to take that
ferry out to the island. Want to come?”

I glanced toward the dock, where the water taxi was throwing its rope. There was a family getting on and a guy already sitting inside.

“Seriously?” I asked. “Right now?”

“Come on, babe,” Dakota said. “It’s not like I’m asking you to elope. It’s only for an hour. The ferry comes back at five.”

Skye giggled, and she and Dakota exchanged a brief glance. But the new me wasn’t going to obsess. Besides, he’d called me
babe
. How can anyone say no to babe?

I turned to Skye. “Can you watch my stuff?”

“Sure,” Skye said without looking up.

Dakota and I dashed toward the dock. We arrived just as the captain was unhooking the rope. He muttered something to us in Spanish and rubbed his stubby fingers against his thumb. As Dakota pulled out some dollars, I said, “Oh, no!”

“What?” Dakota asked.

“I don’t have any money with me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dakota handed some more bills to the guy, leaped into the boat, and reached for my hand.

As I climbed in next to him, I was smiling so hard.
Dakota bought my ticket!
Not only was he whisking me to a tropical island, he was paying my way, too.

The ferry puttered into the bay. The captain was at the front, with the other people sitting directly behind him. That left Dakota and me by ourselves in the back row. I glanced over at him, wondering if we’d find a deserted spot on the island, maybe fool around. If things heated up, I wouldn’t freak out this time. I’d actually stopped by the business center and begged Ellie and Leora for advice. Leora instructed me to practice by getting a banana, holding it tightly, and running my fingers back and forth. I didn’t feel like sexually stimulating a piece of fruit, but I told her I got the point.

“I’m going to jump off,” Dakota said to me.

I turned to Dakota, startled out of my tropical-island hookup fantasy.

“You’re
what
?” I asked. The wind was stronger out here so I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him correctly.

Dakota ran his fingers along his seashell necklace. “I’m going to jump off, see if I can swim the rest of the way to the island.”

I stared in disbelief. It was rough out here, choppy waves rising in every direction. Not to mention that there had to be sharks in these waters.

“It’ll be fine,” Dakota said. “If I can’t make it, I’ll just swim back to shore.”

Before I could say anything else, Dakota scaled the back railing and slid into the water. His head went under for a second and I could feel a scream erupting from the back of my throat. I wanted to shout for the captain to stop the boat or throw him a life preserver, but I knew I couldn’t. If I busted Dakota, he’d never talk to me again. Besides, the new me was cooler than that (even if it made me die of an anxiety attack).

And so I watched, my heart pounding, as Dakota swam behind the boat. The waves were slapping into his face and his expression was strained.
Please keep swimming
, I willed him as the ferry pulled farther and farther ahead.
Please be okay.

We rounded the corner and I couldn’t see Dakota anymore. Even so, I kept glancing back at the water. The ferry docked at the island. As I made my way to the front, the captain grabbed me.

“¿Dónde está ese muchacho?”
he barked.

I knew he was talking about Dakota but I shook my head as if I didn’t understand. Then I wriggled away from him, rubbing my arm where he’d squeezed me, and hopped onto the land. I could see the captain staring nervously into the ocean.

I wandered down the path and settled on a stretch of beach that faced Paradise. I could hear people laughing and shrieking in the surf, but I didn’t move. I just looked out at the water, worried Dakota wasn’t showing up, worried he’d drowned. Maybe it’s selfish, but I also felt disappointed. I’d been hoping we’d wander around this island together. And here I was, no guy in sight. As usual.

The ferry circled the bay, stopping at various docks. After an hour or so, it pulled up to the island again. By this time, I had to assume Dakota had swum back to the hotel. I brushed the sand off my butt and made my way to the boat. When I passed the captain, I avoided any eye contact. My arm was still hurting from where he’d grabbed me.

The ferry rounded the bend. I could see Paradise in the distance, the green lawns, the long pool shimmering in the afternoon light. There were the raised tents, the beach, the narrow dock. As we got closer, I spotted Skye in her lounge chair just like before and then—

Dakota was sitting in the chair next to hers.

I got a horrible feeling in my stomach. As the captain threw the rope over the cleat, I sat there for a moment, not wanting to move.

Somehow I made it off the boat. Somehow I walked down the dock, across the sand, and over to where
Skye and Dakota were playing gin rummy. With my cards.

“Hey!” Skye said, smiling at me like we were best friends.

I didn’t say anything.

Dakota glanced up. “The current was too intense. I had to turn around.”

Skye grabbed the deck away from Dakota. “My deal!”

“No way, bitch!” Dakota said, reaching over and tickling her perfect belly.

I stood there, waiting. I’m not sure what for. Maybe for them to invite me to play cards with them, or to say they were just joking, that Dakota was still mine and Skye still didn’t care about talking to anyone. But neither of them said a word. My tankini was giving me a wedgie and my new sarong was too clingy and even though an hour ago I thought I was a luscious babe, I suddenly felt chunky and stupid.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said quietly.

“Oh, okay,” Dakota said, barely glancing up.

I walked slowly to the room. When I got there, I collapsed facedown on the bed, my swimsuit still damp, my feet still crusted with sand.

At first, I cried. Then I dozed off. Once I woke up, I started crying again.

I couldn’t believe Skye had stolen Dakota from me. She knew we were hanging out. Plus, all she could say about him was that he was too suburban. And who could blame Dakota? Of course he’d ditch me as soon as Skye showed any interest.

It was getting dark. I could see the orange sun glowing across the water. At some point, I heard a door open. A minute later, my mom peeked her head into the room.

“Jena?” she asked. “Are you sleeping?”

“Sort of,” I mumbled.

“Are you almost ready for dinner? Luce and I are heading to the restaurant in a few minutes.”

“What about Skye?”

“She’s met some kids and she’s going with them to the phosphorescent bay.”

My stomach clenched even tighter. “What kids?” I asked.

“A boy named Dakota and his mom and brother. Nice people. They’re from Rochester. Want me to ask if you can join them?”

“No thanks,” I said weakly. “I don’t feel so great.”

“Oh, honey.” My mom came closer to the bed. As she touched my hair, I bit my lower lip to keep from crying. “Do you think you have heatstroke? Want me to get you some Gatorade?”

“No…I just want to sleep.”

My mom stayed with me for a few minutes and then left the room. A little while later, Skye walked in. She flipped on the bedside light and began gathering things into her bag. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“Jena?” Skye asked, standing over me.

I didn’t say anything.

“Jena?”

When I still didn’t respond, she switched off the light and headed out the door. Once she was gone, I banged my head against the pillow and began sobbing
all over again. My throat was so tight I kept gagging and coughing and dry-heaving.

It’s all a lie,
I said to myself. Romance.
The Bridges of Madison County
. This notion that some guy is going to swoop in and fall madly in love with me and change my life and make everything perfect. It’s one big, horrible lie and I bought it. Hook, line, and ten-thousand-pound sinker.

Or I guess I should say it’s a lie for a girl like me. For Skye, that’s another story. The first time Dakota kissed me, down at the hot tub, I remember thinking,
This is too good to be true
.

But if something feels too good to be true, maybe it’s
not
true. Maybe the truth is that Skye deserves him. She’ll always be the winner. And I, pathetically, will always be me.

DAKOTA’S STORY

My day started out like shit and went downhill from there. It was May 19, which would have been Natalie’s eighteenth birthday. Knowing Natalie, she would have forced me to take her out to dinner in Rochester. Someplace fancy I couldn’t afford, not on my paycheck from Wegmans, especially not since my dad makes me pay my own car insurance. But Natalie’s family has money and she was used to being treated like a princess. After dinner, we would have met up with her cheerleading friends. Someone would have produced a cake, someone else would have brought a chick drink like Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Then we would have gone back to my place and gotten it on. Natalie had promised me she was going to ask her doctor for the pill this spring. I used to complain that it was over a year and we were
still using condoms.

All of this would have happened, of course, if we hadn’t been in one of our breakups. Natalie and I were always taking breaks and getting back together. I’d lost track of how many times she screamed at me that it was over, and then hung up the phone or jumped out of my car, slamming the door. We’d ignore each other for a few weeks. Sometimes I’d start hooking up with another girl. Then I’d run into Natalie at a party and she’d be all over me, saying she loved me. I’d apologize for whatever I’d done to piss her off. We’d patch things up and soon we’d be back on track again.

Natalie used to say, “You’re an asshole, Dakota. But you’re
my
asshole.”

I’d laugh, like it was a compliment. But do you really want your girlfriend to think you’re an asshole? Especially if it’s sort of your fault that she died.

May 19 was a Friday. I set my alarm for six fifty to give me enough time to shower, shave, and put on my suit for the ceremony at school. But I didn’t end up needing the clock because I woke at six thirty with an ice pick crushing my temples. I was really hung over. I stayed up last night until one, messing around on the web and drinking too much Jack and Coke. Anything
to get my mind off what was going to happen today.

I kicked aside my sheets and trudged down the hall to take a leak. My dad and I are the only people who live here so it’s a guys’ bathroom all the way. We rarely put the seat down. The mirror is flecked with toothpaste. The tub has a permanent crud ring. We even keep a container of Vaseline in the medicine cabinet.

A few times a year, my dad hires a cleaning lady. But besides her, and besides Natalie, I can’t remember the last female who came upstairs. My mom and brother live in Rochester, a half hour from here. That’s how we got divided up when my parents divorced three years ago. In the beginning, my mom used to pick me up for her custody weekends. But then I got my license and started driving into Rochester by myself. These days, I tend to skip visits, especially if I have a wrestling meet or a ball game.

I splashed my face with water. My eyes were bloodshot and my face was pale. I looked like hell. Shit, I
felt
like hell. This is pretty much how it’d been since Coach Ritter pulled me into his office two weeks ago and told me about the ceremony.

Today, on what would have been Natalie’s birthday, the school was having a ceremony for her, putting up a plaque and everything. I saw the plaque on Wednesday,
when the principal called a bunch of us down to the auditorium to review the specifics of the program. The cheerleaders would kick it off. Then the principal explained how Natalie’s parents and older brother would come onstage. They’d do a slide show accompanied by Natalie’s favorite playlist. After that, I was supposed to go up to the podium, say a few words about Natalie, and lead everyone to the English corridor, where they’d unveil the plaque.

After the principal explained everything, he hoisted the plaque out of a wooden crate and held it up for all of us to see. It was bronze and big, much bigger than I’d imagined. On the left side, it said:

I
N MEMORY OF
N
ATALIE
A
ILEEN
B
IRCH

D
EVOTED DAUGHTER

D
EVOTED SISTER

D
EVOTED FRIEND

B
ELOVED MEMBER OF THE

B
ROCKPORT
H
IGH
S
CHOOL COMMUNITY

On the other side, beneath a pair of pom-poms, they had a picture of Natalie. It was taken last fall, before she cut her hair. She’d chopped it up to her ears at the end of October. I only remember that because we were
in one of our breakups. She was mad because I bailed on some surprise dinner for her brother. But then I ran into her at a Halloween party. I went with a few guys from wrestling and a carload of cute sophomore girls. At some point, I tweaked Natalie’s cat ears and whispered, “I liked your hair better long.” By the time we got back together, she was growing it out again.

We all sat there in the auditorium, staring at the plaque. The cheerleaders started crying and wrapping their arms around each other. That’s what they did for the entire month after the accident. You’d see clumps of them in the hallway, bawling into tissues. As I reread the plaque, I was frozen in my seat. I’m not a crier, but I could feel a lump in my throat.
I used to talk to that girl five times a day,
I kept thinking.
I knew what her tits felt like, how her skin smelled. I had sex with her, for God’s sake.

So now, here I am, two weeks later. The big day. I downed a couple aspirin and stepped into the shower. As I was drying off, I could hear my dad hollering from his bed. Something about my fucking alarm. I must have forgotten to switch it off when I woke up. My dad is a sheriff who works the first platoon, the night shift. He goes to sleep at six and has threatened to kill me if I disturb him while I’m getting ready for school.

I wrapped my towel around my waist and sprinted back to my room, where I pounded the off button on my clock. Then I pulled on some boxers and dug through my closet for my suit. Coach said I should wear one today, out of respect. He just didn’t say for whom. Natalie’s family? Natalie? Too bad she’s six feet under at Lakeview Cemetery.

Natalie used to go crazy when I wore a suit. She said it turned her on. If she’d seen me today, she would have crawled into my lap and started kissing me, unzipping my pants. I can still feel how her fingers wrapped around my dick, her rings clinking together as her hand moved up and down.

I sat on the edge of my bed and reached into my boxers. But then I pulled my hand out and stood up so quickly I nearly blacked out. I may do some asshole things, but I can’t jerk off to a dead girl.