The Winner's Game (23 page)

What a difference a few hours makes. Earlier, she was crying her eyes out, and now she's on top of the world.

It suddenly feels like the perfect day. Ahead of us, our parents are walking side by side and talking—
not yelling
. Bree and I are getting along. The sun is setting nicely. The surf is pounding on the beach. And Ann has thirteen roses.

As though she just read my mind, Ann says, “This is the perfect day, Cade—your earlier comments notwithstanding. This is why we came to the beach this summer.” She pauses, and for the first time ever, she looks completely at peace. “I could literally die right now and be happy.” She sighs and then corrects herself. “No, wait. Tomorrow night would be better. One fantastic date, and then I'm good to go…”

F
IRST DATES
are important to every girl, but I tend to think this one is more important to me than most are to most other girls. Does that sound overly self-important? I hope not. I just mean…I don't think most girls go out on their first date wondering if it might be their last. For me, that's a real possibility, which is why I don't mind spending four hours before it starts picking out clothes, doing my hair, and putting on makeup. As long as I have the opportunity to live a little, I might as well make the most of it.

I know Dad is trying to play it cool when Tanner arrives for our date, but he starts getting antsy as we head for the door. I can tell because he begins pelting Tanner with a bunch of questions he already asked at least once before.

“So you'll be home by ten?”

“Probably more like nine thirty.”

“And, you're a safe driver?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No tickets or accidents?”

“Not yet.”

“And you won't let her lose her purse, right? It has her pager in it.”

“Of course. I'll double-check everywhere we go.”

“And you're definitely staying local, right?”

“Just to Astoria.”

“I thought you said Seaside before? Now you're going all the way to Astoria? That's another ten or fifteen miles.”

Thankfully, Mom steps in. “It's been Astoria all along, dear. Just let them go.” She wraps an arm around his waist. “They'll be fine.” I like seeing her arms around him. I haven't seen them so touchy and nice to each other for a long time. I hope they keep it up.

Tanner doesn't own a car, but his mom let him borrow her Accord for the night. As we drive up the coastal highway, I keep fishing for clues about where we're going—and especially why we need the rubber gloves—but he doesn't bite.

“You'll see,” he keeps saying. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Our first stop is a restaurant on the promenade in Seaside, about halfway between Cannon Beach and Astoria. It's a small restaurant, but it isn't too crowded, which I love because we can talk without having to compete with a lot of noise.

After ordering our food, Tanner produces an envelope from his jeans pocket. It looks like a letter, but he says it's a “get to know you” activity that his sister put together. Inside the envelope are a bunch of random questions. The idea is to take turns drawing a question to ask the other person.

After he explains it, I propose that we turn it into a game. “The first person to not answer their question loses.”

“OK, but you're so going to lose,” he warns. “I'm very competitive.”

“Good to know. But I think you've met your match.”

A waitress comes to fill our cups with water and asks if everything is OK. I tell her it couldn't be better, which is exactly how I feel about being out on a date with the guy sitting across from me.

When the woman is gone, Tanner opens the envelope and holds it open for me to take a paper. “‘
Who is the most important superhero, and why?'
” I ask, reading the question to him. “That's so easy.”

“Easy? Measuring the relative value of humankind's greatest allies is hardly ‘easy.'” He's clearly joking, but he acts all serious anyway, as though he's contemplating something hugely important. Finally he says, “It's got to be Wonder Woman.”

“Oh, please. Why her? And if you say because she has the best outfit, you officially lose.”

“Why not her? First, she's got an invisible plane. Think of how that has helped develop stealth technologies. And then her headband thing that doubles as a boomerang weapon—that's cutting-edge fashion. But mostly, consider what she has done for advancing women's rights. Who else, among all the superheroes, has been the kind of strong role model for young female minds? Yeah, it's got to be Wonder Woman.” He grins, obviously pleased with his answer. Then he draws a question to ask me. “OK, your turn. ‘
What's the very first impression you had of the person sitting across from you?'
”

“Seriously? You got a superhero question, and I have something personal like that?”

Totally not fair.

He folds up the paper and sets it down. “I didn't write it, I just picked it. Are you not going to answer?”

“What, and lose?” I feel some butterflies flitting about, but not enough to give up. “No, I'll answer. I, um…saw you behind the counter at the candy store, and I remember thinking you looked like a boy I once met at the hospital during one of my stays. And then you started talking and I thought—Don't laugh, OK?—I thought, ‘Wow, he sounds a lot smarter than he looks.'”

Tanner nearly spits out his water. “Laugh? I think you just slammed me.”

“No, it was a compliment. You look like one of those cool guys, you know, who are athletic and good-looking and fun to be around, but not very smart. Or at least not studious. But when you spoke, I could tell there was more to you than I first thought.”

He relaxes and smiles. “Aww, thanks. I think.” Tanner slides the envelope back across the table.

I can't believe it when I read the next slip of paper. “What the heck? It's another easy one: ‘
Which is better, and why—dog or cat?'
”

So lame.

When he smiles at me again, it sends a shiver down my spine. What a great smile! Even if it is a little crooked, it's also confident, but not arrogant. And warm and inviting without being cheesy.

So adorable!

“I'll go with cats,” he says at length. “I'm probably more of a dog person, but cats have nine lives, and who wouldn't want that?”

The way he is looking at me, he's probably thinking about the frailty of my life, and how having nine lives would be a drastic improvement. It's a sweet thought, but I don't agree with his assessment. “I don't know, cats are so serious all the time, and all they do is sit around, completely self-absorbed. Dogs have fun and are kind and want to spend every moment with the people they love. Plus they are true friends, sometimes to a fault. Emotionally, and even socially, I think I'd rather have one dog life than nine cat lives.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Positive. I've been a bit of cat for the past few years. I'm ready to be a dog.”

The waitress walking by must've overheard that last bit, because she gives me an odd look.

Tanner sees it too and busts up laughing.

Awkward!

He takes a sip of water and draws another question from the envelope. “Oh boy,” he says very slowly after reading it. “You're not going to like this.”

“You can't be serious. How come I keep getting the bad ones?”

“Just dumb luck, I guess.” There is a twinkle in his eye that I can't quite read.

“Here goes. ‘
What was the name of your last boyfriend, and what did you like most and least about him?'
” The twinkle in his eye grows.

“Wait a minute!” I snatch the paper from his hand and read it out loud. “‘
Sunrise or sunset, and why?'
”
He's been making up his own questions the whole time!
“Oh, you're a trickster, Tanner Rich.”

“And you're awesome, Ann Bennett.”

My heart does a backflip, and it doesn't even hurt! I LOVE hearing him say that. Just like I love the sound of his laughter. I even love the fact that he is interested enough in me to make up personal questions. “So this means I win, right? Cheaters always lose.”

“That's fair. But you're still welcome to answer the questions. If you want.”

“Actually, those are both easy questions. I've never had a boyfriend, and I definitely choose sunrises over sunsets.”

“Why sunrises?”

I suddenly wish I hadn't volunteered to answer the question. Not that it's any big secret, only that I don't want to be all gloom-and-doom when we're having such a good time. “Just…because. Sunsets are an end, you know…and I'm more in favor of new beginnings. Every day I wake up and there's a new day ahead of me…it's a good day.”

His smile puts me at ease. “Cool. I like sunrises too.”

I nod and smile back.

A few minutes later, dinner arrives. Maybe it's the company I'm with that makes it taste so good, but I think this meal will go down as the best fish and chips I've ever had.

When we leave the restaurant, he runs around the car to open the door for me before I can do it myself. “Aww,” I say as I climb in. “Do you open the door for all your dates?”

“What dates?”

I honestly can't tell if he is being serious. “You know, past girlfriends, or whatever.”

“I live in Cannon Beach, Ann,” he says very directly. “Most girls are here for a week or less. And my school is so small…I've never thought to date any of the locals. This is my first legitimate date.” He pauses. “How am I doing so far?”

His first date!

My mouth is probably hanging wide open, but I can't help it. “Good,” I stammer. “I'm having a great time.”

“Me too,” he says, flashing his crooked smile.

Adorable!

As we pull out of the parking lot, I ask him what's next on the agenda. My box of rubber gloves is at my feet on the floor, and I am dying to know what they're for.

He tells me to guess, but I have no good ideas. “For a minute there I was worried maybe we were going to pay for dinner by washing the dishes at the restaurant.”

That earns a nice chuckle. “I'm not rich,” he says, “but I'm not cheap. Guess again.”

“Hmm. How about…bowling?”

“With rubber gloves?”

“It could be fun.”

“Next time, then.”

“OK, are we digging in the sand somewhere?”

“Nope.”

“Clamming?”

“That's digging in the sand.”

“Just checking. Maybe we're…robbing a bank, and you don't want us to leave fingerprints.”

“You guessed it. Tanner and Ann, high school bandits.”

“Fine. Give me a hint.”

All he'll say is that it will be a night to remember.

Ten minutes later we pull into a mostly empty parking lot, not far from where I got kicked off the movie set with Mom, Bree, and Cade. The place looks different without all the rigging and lights and cameras.

Tanner opens the car door for me again, and then we walk several blocks toward the bay. When we reach the end of the street, we're overlooking a marina. “OK, put on your gloves,” he says. “And take my arm.”

He has a pair of gloves for himself too, tucked into his back pocket, so we both put them on.

“Is this because your sister says locking arms is romantic?” I ask with a giggle as I take hold of his biceps with my rubberized hand.

“Well…maybe,” he replies, blushing. “But also, I told your dad I'd keep you safe, and we're going down some stairs.” With that he leads me down a steep metal ramp over the water, then down eight even steeper steps. At the bottom is a locked gate. “My friend's dad has a boat moored here. He gave me the code.” He punches in a series of numbers, and the security gate clicks open. We are on safe footing on the flat of the dock, but I don't let go of his arm, nor do I get any sense that he wants me to.

“Now will you tell me what the gloves are for?”

“You'll
see
,” he teases. “And I'm not
lyin'
.” He stops, snickers, and announces, “That's a pun!”

“What's so punny about that?”

“You'll
see
,
” he says again, “And I'm not
lyin'
.
”

“I still don't get it. ‘See'? ‘Lying'?” I pause to think, then say it once more, faster. “‘See lyin'? ‘Sea lion'! Oh my gosh, are there sea lions here?”

Just as I ask the question, I start to hear their distinctive barking near the end of the pier.

“A whole herd of them. The fishermen hate it, but they've taken up home here. The city is trying to figure out how to get rid of them without hurting them. In the late afternoon they come right up on the docks, down there at the end, and soak up the sun.”

I hold up the hand that isn't locked around Tanner's arm. “So what are the gloves for? I'm not petting them.”

“I hope not. They'd probably bite. But they do like a free meal now and then, which is probably why they came here in the first place.”

“You mean we're…?”

“Feeding the sea lions.”

Now I drop his arm and face him. “That's on my bucket list for the summer.”

“Really? I had no idea.” There is that darn twinkle again, just like over dinner when he was “lyin.'”

“Who told you?”

“What? I do this all the time. Who doesn't love feeding the sea lions?”

“Seriously, Tanner. Who told?”

He shrugs. “The little bird may have mentioned it. But it sounded like so much fun, I wanted to do it too. I had my friend leave a bucket of herring on his boat. C'mon. It's just up there, closer to the sea lions.”

Tanner fetches the bucket, and together we approach the herd, slowly, until a few of them start getting restless. “You first,” he whispers. “Just grab a fish and toss it right over there. Slow motions, though. You don't want to spook them.”

“Do they know it's fish?”

He suppresses a laugh, but he is obviously amused. “They're sea lions, Ann. They know a fish when they see it.”

“I meant, how do they know we're not throwing something else at them? I could be tossing a grenade, for all they know.”

“They know that when people come down here, they'll probably get a bite or two. Plus, I'm sure by the way they're acting that they can smell what's in the bucket. Just nice and easy, toss one over.”

Though the thought of holding a slimy dead fish is unsettling, even while wearing a rubber glove, I can feel adrenaline running through my veins, nudging me to do it. Very deftly, I reach into the bucket, grab the first fish I touch, and toss it in a high arc toward the group of anxious beasts. Like a trained circus animal, one of them shimmies forward on its flippers and catches the fish midflight. “Yes!” I shout, throwing my hands up in excitement as though I've just scored a goal.