Dog Beach Unleashed (16 page)

“Keep putting one foot in front of the other,” he tells me.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yes. That's the secret to life, really. One foot in front of the other. Eventually you will get somewhere.”

When I get home, Bennett is sitting on my front porch with my dad, working on a crossword puzzle.

“I won't interrupt you guys,” I say, about to go inside.

My dad looks up. “No problem. We just finished.”

Bennett and I look at each other and then down at our feet.

My dad says, “Well, I think Mom needs my help in the kitchen. She's working on some kind of fancy frittata.”

I smile. My mom hates it when my dad helps in the kitchen, and he knows that I know that, but it was a good excuse anyway. I guess he could sense the tension in the air.

“I realized I wasn't done with the conversation we started the other day,” Bennett tells me.

“Okay.”

“Let's just get everything out in the open,” Bennett says.

“Um . . .” My voice trails off, and I can't make eye contact with him. This is becoming the hardest day of my life, and I didn't see it coming. My whole philosophy on going with the flow and appreciating life's surprises is flying out to sea.

“I guess I thought things were going to be different between us this summer,” he continues. “Like, I came with all these plans, that just the two of us would hang out, but then you didn't want any part of that.”

“That's not true,” I say quietly.

“It is.” He scratches his cheek, classic Bennett nervousness. He doesn't get nervous often, but when he does, it's really obvious. “I had to force you into the swimming lessons. And every time I ask if you want to pick up the dogs together, you make some excuse. And you're so busy talking to Calvin all the time that you ignore me.”

“I came to Seagate this summer thinking the same things you did. I spent all year thinking about you.”

“You did?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes. But then I realized I need you to be my friend,” I say. “That's really what's most important to me.”

“Well, what changed?”

I try to think of how to explain it. “I don't know what changed. I guess I just like us being us, the way we've always been. It's what feels natural to me. I don't want that to change. Not even a tiny bit. Everything seems to be changing around us . . . I guess I'd like for our friendship to stay the same. It's one of my favorite things about my summers at Seagate.”

Bennett nods slowly, as if understanding.

But there's something else I need to say. “If you like me so much, then why did you tell Calvin to go for it when he told you he liked me?”

He shakes his head, frustrated. “Okay, first of all, I don't know how you know that. And second of all, what was I going to say? He's my friend, too.”

“I know,” I say.

“Besides, I thought you liked
me
, so it didn't matter if Calvin liked you,” Bennett says.

“I do like you, Bennett. I like you as a friend. You'll always be my friend. Okay?”

“Okay.” He gets up and turns his Mets cap brim from front to back. “Talk to you later, Remy.”

I watch him walk down the steps of my front porch, the way I've watched him so many times before. And I know he's not leaving for good, but for some reason it feels that way.

I stay out on the front porch until Dad comes and tells me that it's dinnertime and I should get excited because this frittata is going to be the best thing I've ever eaten.

Amazing frittata or not, I don't have the heart to tell him that I'm not hungry.

The next day, it feels as if everyone is ignoring
me at Dog Beach.

Everyone but the dogs. They're still happy to see me, jumping up to give me kisses, wagging their tails, running in circles around me.

And Lester stays by my side the whole day. We had this long chat after the Larry Park performance, and he's been running away less. I guess his owner was right—he really does understand English. Sometimes owners say things about their dogs, and we listen and smile, but we don't believe them. But in this case, Lester's dog-dad was right.

Lester needed someone to understand him, and I guess I'm that person. I'm not sure the cocker spaniel understands me as well as my last dog, Danish, did, or as well as Marilyn Monroe does, but he sure comes close.

It also seems as if Calvin knows that something's up but doesn't know what, exactly, or what to do. I'm not sure how he can seem so in tune and smart sometimes and other times seem completely clueless or distant.

“Hey,” he says, sitting at the edge of my lounge chair. Lester is on one side of me, and Marilyn Monroe is on the other, and I'm staring at the ocean, letting my mind wander.

“Hey,” I reply.

“So, listen, I need to talk to you. I think Micayla told you that I liked you. And, no matter how you feel, I just don't want anything to get weird,” he says, picking at the skin near his thumbnail.

I sit up. “You haven't made anything weird.”

He nods halfheartedly. “Yeah, but we're a group of friends, and you and Bennett have your own thing going on, and I don't want to get in the middle of that.”

“You're not in the middle. And Bennett and I don't have anything going on.”

“You don't?”

“No. But you're a person, too, Calvin. You can have your own feelings and opinions. Why don't you tell me how
you
feel?”

“I like you,” he says.

“And I like you, Calvin,” I say. This is a rare moment when I'm not second-guessing what I'm saying. “I like talking to you. And I like listening to you talk. I like hanging out with you.”

“Okay.” He smiles. “Me too.”

I laugh. “It's good you like spending time with yourself.”

“You know what I mean,” he scoffs. “I like all of those things about
you
.”

I say, “Okay, good.”

Then Calvin kneels down and says, “Lester, want to come play Frisbee?” Lester's on a leash attached to my lounge chair. He looks at Calvin and then turns away. “C'mon. Join the fun.” He frees Lester's leash.

Finally the cocker spaniel agrees and follows Calvin over to the other dogs.

I get all the midmorning treats ready and play back that conversation in my head. So, Calvin and I like each other.

Now what?

Bennett is across the beach, giving Potato Salad a belly rub. For a few seconds, our eyes meet. He shrugs. I shrug.

It seems that we're having a conversation with our eyes, but I'm not entirely sure what we're talking about.

All I want to know is that everything is okay between us, that no matter what happens, everything will work out. That we'll always be Bennett and Remy. A friendship that started at the very beginning and went on forever.

I wonder if that's too much to ask. Maybe life is a series of events, and you can't know if things are always going to be okay. It's just one more thing I can't plan for.

I'm walking Atticus and Rascal home when Claire comes up behind me. “Here's the thing.” She sniffles. Sometimes she jumps right in and starts conversations in the middle. I guess
that's what happens when you know someone will listen.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm expecting her to say, and my stomach twists with anticipation.

“I feel like the whole world around me is just going on as if nothing has happened.”

I nod, so she'll know I understand what she's saying.

“It doesn't seem fair.” Tears trickle down her cheeks; she rubs them away with her palms. “How can the world just go on like normal when my parents aren't together anymore?”

I know she's not really asking me for the answer. But it feels as if I should know it. I wish I did.

“It seems like everything should stop,” I say. “Like no one should have the chance to be happy ever again.” I look at her. “Right?”

She sobs. “Right.”

“Like everyone in the entire world should know how bad you're feeling. And it doesn't make sense that everything around you seems exactly the way it was before all this happened.”

She sobs and sobs and sobs. “I'm so sad, Remy! I don't want it to be this way.”

I put my arm around her and we walk that way for a while. I think about what Mr. Brookfield said:
One foot in front of the other
.
Eventually you will get somewhere
. And even though I'm not saying anything, I feel as if I'm helping a little. I listen to the soft patter of our flip-flops on the pavement, moving forward, and I know that together we will get somewhere.

The Seagate Centennial Summer celebration is
three days away, and the whole island is excited. At least that's how it feels to me.

All the Adirondack chairs have been taken off the lawn by the ferry terminal to make room for the carnival rides and booths. The temporary stage has been set up way back on the lawn. It's perfect, really. That way everyone who's watching the performances also has a view of the ocean.

Mrs. Pursuit asks all the volunteers to meet her there so she can discuss how everything will work.

On my walk over, I think about what I'm going to say to Calvin. Maybe I should tell him that I don't know what to do now that we like each other. Or maybe I should ask him if he wants to go to Sundae Best this afternoon. Or is that too much like a date? Whatever. There's never a wrong time for ice cream.

When I get to the lawn and sit down on the grass with the rest of the volunteers, I turn around every few minutes to see if Calvin's coming up the path. But there's no sight of him. Did he forget? I check my phone. Nothing. Maybe he thinks I can handle getting all the information and that I'll tell him about it later.

Finally Mrs. Pursuit starts the meeting. She hands out a little map of where everything's going to be on the lawn and asks if we have any last-minute changes.

“Hi.” Bennett plops down on the grass next to me. He's out of breath.

“Oh, hi,” I say.

He starts scratching and scratching a mosquito bite on his ankle. “Calvin's stuck at home. Something about his mom having a rough morning. She had another fight over the phone with his dad.” He squints. “So he asked if I could come and get the information for him.”

“Oh.” A tiny part of me sinks like one of those weighted rings we throw to the bottom of the pool, only to have to swim way down to get it. I wonder why Calvin didn't ask
me
to get the information.

“It's okay, Remy.” Bennett laughs. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” I say a bit defensively.

“So the rides will be brought in tomorrow, the booths will be put in place after that, and you're welcome to set up your booth any way you'd like,” Mrs. Pursuit says. “Be creative! I know you will be. Seagaters always are.” She looks down
at her papers and then back up at the crowd. “I think that's about it. Go enjoy the sunshine. Oh, one other thing. Is Remy Boltuck here?”

I stand up and wave. “I'm here.” My nervous laugh squeaks out.

“Great. Anything we need to know about the performances?”

I shake my head. “I don't think so. We're all set.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.”

After that, everyone mills about, chatting and discussing plans for their booths.

“So, you and Calvin are really running a wedding booth?” Bennett asks me, standing up and brushing the grass off the butt of his shorts.

I nod and stay sitting for a few more seconds.

“Kind of weird, no?” he asks, looking down at me.

“Well, yeah,” I admit, and I finally stand up. “He suggested it. I guess it was on his mind because of the situation with his parents. And he saw one at a carnival once and thought it was kind of funny.”

“Oh. Got it.”

“I'm going to pick up Marilyn Monroe at my house, then Lester and Oreo,” I tell him. “See you at Dog Beach?”