Sea Change (6 page)

“That you do,” Delilah confirmed proudly, raising her glass of orange juice to CeeCee in a toast. “You’re a LeBlanc, after all!”

I tried—and failed—to imagine having the same conversation with Mom. Or with anyone’s parent. But Mom only chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Amelia,” CeeCee was saying, “Miranda wanted to be sure you’d be all right with her joining me today for a girls’ outing. I know you have to paint the study and all…”

“We don’t have to paint.” Mom chuckled, and glanced at me. “You know, the repairmen are coming to look at the roof and the plumbing, anyway. You girls go and have a good time! Just be sure to call me if you’ll be out past dark.”

I stared at Mom, attempting to eye signal to her that I didn’t
want
to spend the day with CeeCee, but she had already returned to eating her hush puppy. Great.

“What are you two beauties up to, then?” Delilah asked, taking a sip of juice.

“It’s Miranda’s call,” CeeCee said, fixing the strap of her dress. “But I was just thinking how pathetic it is that we don’t have more shops on the boardwalk.”

“Don’t let the Illingworths hear you say that,” Delilah advised, and Mom laughed—sort of nervously, I thought. “The boardwalk is their pride and joy.”

At the mention of the Illingworths and the boardwalk, I remembered something Virginia had said at the party yesterday, and my spirits buoyed.

“The science center!” I exclaimed. “Isn’t there a marine center on the boardwalk?” I asked CeeCee, whose face fell.

“There is?” Mom asked, and Delilah nodded. “Who knew? I thought nothing had changed on this island, but I guess there are always new additions.” She smiled at me, her expression encouraging. “That sounds right up Miranda’s alley!”

“What do you think, CeeCee?” I asked, leaning against the doorjamb and grinning. “Too
boring
?” Swinging by this science center while simultaneously irritating CeeCee seemed like the ideal Selkie Island activity.

CeeCee heaved a great sigh, pushing her chair back from the table. “Okay, okay, you’re the boss. The science center it is. But afterward we’re getting popcorn shrimp at A Fish Tale and laying out on Siren Beach.”

Siren Beach.
Without warning, I thought of the strange boy from yesterday, and I felt my cheeks flush. Would he be there again?

But why did it matter? There was another boy to focus on, after all.

“Deal,” I said, walking over to CeeCee. “And later we can try to meet up with our…picks,” I added boldly. CeeCee’s lips parted in surprise, and I raised my chin, pleased. Who was boring now?

The Selkie Island Center for Marine Discovery was located in a modest, pale green house on the edge of the boardwalk, several doors down from The Crabby Hook. A gleaming plaque on the center’s side announced that it was A G
IFT OF THE
I
LLINGWORTH
F
AMILY.
As CeeCee pulled open the screen door, I glanced at the handmade flyers taped to the windows. One flyer stated that the center’s hours were from noon to six, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Another flyer advertised sea creature beach walks, and a third announced an exhibit on baby alligators. Nothing fancy, but I hadn’t been expecting the Museum of Natural History.

The air-conditioned foyer was full of little kids and chitchatting parents. On the wall was an underwater photograph of coral reefs, alongside a sign that read D
ISCOVER OUR
COLLECTION OF POLKA-DOT BATFISH!
I sighed contentedly, feeling more at home in the center than I did at The Mariner. At least here, there was a distinct lack of legend or lore.

CeeCee and I walked over to the desk in the corner, which was being manned by a teenage girl with pretty rows of dreadlocks and wire-framed glasses.

“Two, please,” CeeCee told the girl in an imperious tone, handing her a five-dollar bill; when we’d left The Mariner, CeeCee had insisted that this visit be her treat.

As I watched the girl punch the keys on the register, her expression studious, I realized she reminded me a little of…myself.

“This must be a cool place to work,” I mused out loud, studying the brochures stacked on the cluttered desk.

“It’s my summer job,” the girl said flatly, shooting me a look of confusion. It occurred to me that she was a resident who lived on the island year-round—a local—and couldn’t grasp why I was talking to her. I wanted to mouth,
I’m not one of them!

“What’s there to
do
in here?” CeeCee asked, wrinkling her freckled nose as she accepted the two tickets from the girl.

“We have our aquarium room, featuring snapping turtles, puffer fish, and the Atlantic octopus,” the girl replied in a rote tone, handing me one of the brochures. “And Leo is actually
about to give these kids a tour of the center starting”—she glanced at her watch—“now.”

“Lord help us,” CeeCee murmured, looking at the gaggle of children in panic.

“Who’s Leo?” I asked, skimming the brochure and thinking that a tour sounded like fun.

“He’s the other summer intern,” the girl responded, then pointed over my shoulder. “There he is. Hey, Leo!” she shouted. “Can you take two more on your tour?”

I turned around and my heart flew into my throat.

Leo was the boy I’d met on the beach.

He looked different—cleaner—than he had yesterday; he now wore a white polo shirt with a name tag that read
LEO M.
, navy blue board shorts, and flip-flops. But it was inarguably the same boy, with the same straight, burnished gold hair, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes. It didn’t make sense; I’d assumed he was a young fisherman, or some sort of nomadic beach wanderer.

“Of course I can,” Leo replied in that deep, scratchy voice. He was addressing the girl, but he was staring directly at me. “The more, the merrier.”

I felt CeeCee pinch the skin above my elbow. “Eye candy alert,” she whispered. “Let’s take the tour!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I faltered, feeling heat spread across
my cheeks. Would Leo say something to me? Would we both pretend we hadn’t met yesterday? I had no precedent for this particular situation.

“Coming here was
your
idea, missy,” CeeCee said, steering me toward Leo, who was now clapping his hands and asking people to gather around him. “We’re doing it.”

W
elcome to the Selkie Island Center for Marine Discovery,” Leo said, his eyes sparkling as he faced the crowd. “A gift of the Illingworth family,” he added in an ironic kind of baritone, and I felt a smile playing on my lips.

“Cute, but he’s got to be a local,” CeeCee whispered disdainfully. “Total Fisherman’s Village type.”

I started to ask CeeCee what she meant, but the woman standing ahead of me shot us an irritated glance. This wasn’t the time to gab. Behind us stood—I’d done a double take to confirm—the excitable little blond boy from the ferry and his parents.

“We are much more than an aquarium,” Leo continued, spreading his large, tanned hands. “This center is involved in
wildlife preservation and does a great deal of research both in Selkie’s marshes and on Siren Beach.”

I felt my breath catch. I couldn’t get over how boyish Leo had seemed on the beach yesterday, when he was now so official. Professional. He also had not glanced at me again since CeeCee and I joined the group, so I wondered if he even remembered me.

“This,” Leo said, leading us into a dimly lit room that smelled of salt, “is our aquarium where you can meet—and sometimes touch—a few of Selkie’s most interesting inhabitants.”

I gripped the brochure in my hands, barely noticing the illuminated, sand-bottomed tanks full of crabs, jellyfish, and the famous baby alligators. Why,
why
did Leo speaking the word
touch
make my whole face flame? I was grateful for the darkness of the room, but I peeked at CeeCee to make sure she hadn’t noticed my blush. Thankfully, she was checking her BlackBerry.

“Feel free to roam around on your own,” Leo announced. “The placards next to each tank will tell you a lot about each little buddy inside, but if you have any questions, just holler. And for those of you who want to befriend a baby alligator, follow me.”

There was promptly a stampede toward the baby alligators, while a handful of kids admired the tank of spider crabs.

“I’m going to step outside for a minute,” CeeCee murmured with a grimace and a toss of her hair. “Call me if this gets fun, okay?” she requested. And before I could tell her that I hadn’t brought my cell phone, she blew me a kiss and trotted out of the room.

Inexplicably, my heartbeat sped up. Tucking the brochure into the back pocket of my jeans, I found myself wandering toward the alligator tank, and Leo. When I got there, I stood a bit away from the crowd that
oohed
and
aahed.

Leo’s right arm was outstretched and on his hand sat a small alligator, its tail thumping against Leo’s wrist and its ancient, reptilian eyes blinking steadily. The boy from the ferry daringly stroked the alligator’s scaly body.

“You’re doing great,” Leo encouraged, nodding at the boy. “I think he really likes you. Maurice—that’s his name—Maurice can be a little wary of strangers.”

I can relate,
I thought with a small smile. I was impressed by Leo’s ease around kids. If I were in his position, I would have been dolefully reciting facts about the anatomy of cold-blooded animals.

“Now,” Leo said, glancing around at the circle of saucer eyes, “can anyone tell me the only two places in the world where alligators are natives?”

“North America and China.” The answer shot out of me automatically, and then I bit my lower lip. Why did Studious
Miranda have to show up
now
? “Um, I DVR basically every show on the Discovery Channel,” I added awkwardly, avoiding the stares of parents and children.

Leo’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. His dimples emerged.

“Thank you, Miranda,” he said. “That’s right.”

He remembered me.

Why did that fact make my stomach somersault? Twice?

I decided that now would be a good time to go check out the snapping turtles, but something kept me rooted to the spot. And as the kids pushed past me, heading toward the other displays with their parents in tow, I realized that only Leo and I were left standing by the alligators.

Leo’s gaze met mine briefly. He glanced at the neuron symbol—my school’s logo—that was printed on my T-shirt. Then he looked down at the alligator in his hand.

“Hi, again,” I ventured, my voice uneven. When Leo didn’t answer right away, my breath stopped. Why did this boy have such a strange effect on me?

“What’s that, Maurice?” Leo finally spoke, addressing the alligator. “You think she’s the smartest girl we’ve had in the center so far?”

My heart fluttered, but I felt a spark of irritation. People who blurred the lines between animals and humans irked me.

“Do you always pretend that alligators can communicate with you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

Leo glanced back up at me with a lazy half smile. “I’m not pretending.”

“Oh, really?” I shot back. “What other things does Maurice over here tell you?”

Leo raised one eyebrow mischievously. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked. When I nodded, he took a step closer to me. Despite myself, I drew a deep breath. Leo smelled fresh and sharp, like rainwater and sand. Incongruously, I recalled the scent of Greg’s Mitchum deodorant.

“He wants out,” Leo whispered as Maurice blinked patiently at me. “All his buddies do. They want to run free.”

I shook my head, a laugh escaping my mouth. “You don’t need to talk to animals to guess that. A natural habitat is always preferable.”

As he had yesterday, Leo rested his eyes on my face for a long moment, so long that I knew my cheeks turned crimson. The voices of other people milling about the room sounded faint and distant.

“If that’s how you feel,” Leo said at last, turning away and gently placing Maurice back in the tank with his brethren, “you should come on one of our sea creature beach walks. I’m giving one today at six o’clock, right when the center closes.”

I thought of standing on Siren Beach with Leo again. Only
this time we were exploring, looking for sand dollars and seashells on the shoreline. A smile I couldn’t control crossed my face.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Leo said as he brushed his hands on his shorts.

I nodded, then tried to force my lips back into a straight line. “Is that where you, um, were headed yesterday?” I asked, tightening my ponytail. “To give a beach walk?”

Leo shook his head, scratching the back of his browned neck. “The center’s closed on Thursdays, so that’s when I help out my dad—he’s a fisherman. When you saw me yesterday, I was going to meet him on his boat.”

I remembered CeeCee’s remark, something about Fisherman’s Village.

“I see,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I, um, I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who works at a science center.”

Leo grinned and the wicked glint reappeared in his eyes. “I’m full of surprises.”

I swallowed hard and was preparing a response when Leo clapped his hands and called, “All right, everyone! It’s time to resume the tour!”

I looked down at my Converse. I couldn’t. I couldn’t continue the tour. Maybe it was a combination of my hot cheeks and my pounding heart, or maybe it was the knowledge that
I’d be going on a better tour later. In any case, as the visitors swarmed back around Leo, I glanced at him, mouthed “See you at six,” and turned to go.

As I walked through the lobby and out into the sunshine, I felt my breathing even out. I stared at the crystal blue of the ocean, which washed white and foamy onto the sand. Two guys in swim trunks were wading into the surf with their boogie boards, and a tugboat sliding past the horizon honked its horn. The air was thick as always.

CeeCee was sitting on the wooden steps that led down to the beach, her ever-present BlackBerry in her hands. “I hate boys,” she moaned when I sat down beside her.

“Why?” I asked, thinking of Leo. Had she seen us talking and disapproved?

CeeCee scowled down at her BlackBerry. “I texted Bobby about hanging out tonight, but supposedly he’s got some sort of a family dinner. My
gosh.
” She rolled her eyes. “If he seriously wanted me, he’d skip the stupid dinner, don’t you think?”

“I have no idea,” I replied honestly. What did I know about male creatures?

CeeCee gave me a
you’re hopeless
look, then glanced at her BlackBerry again. A seagull strutted by the boardwalk, pecking at a discarded hot dog bun. “The good news,” CeeCee spoke, smiling up at me, “is that I texted T.J. and he
is
free this evening. You should definitely meet up with him, Miranda!”

My stomach jumped. I’d forgotten that, in the flush of my earlier bravado, I’d suggested hanging out with the summer picks, a plan that didn’t jibe so well with the beach walk I’d just agreed to attend. Plus, the prospect of spending the evening one-on-one with T.J. felt distinctly…datelike.

“Don’t look so scared!” CeeCee laughed, squeezing my arm. “T.J.’s too much of a gentleman to make a move on you right away.”

Adrenaline raced through me. Did T.J.
want
to make a move? A piece of me suddenly yearned to experience it: the warmth of T.J.’s breath, surely freshened by mints. The scent of whatever expensive cologne he must have dabbed on every morning. The chance to discover what another boy kissed like. T.J. seemed so suave, so experienced, that I was certain he would be good at whatever he did.

But why did a bigger piece of me still want to go on that beach walk?

“I’m not scared, I just don’t think I’m ready to hang out with T.J. alone,” I replied, hugging my knees to my chest. “I’d rather hold out for a double date.”
Or nerd out on a sea creature walk.

CeeCee sighed. “If you’re sure…” she drawled, and dutifully began texting again. “I’ll tell T.J. that you have other
plans. You know,” she said, shooting me a grin, “it’s clever to play hard to get and all, but you need to be careful. You don’t want T.J. slipping through your fingers. Otherwise you’ll end up with Mr. Townie in there as your summer pick.” CeeCee jerked her thumb back toward the center.

I set my chin on the tops of my knees, a shiver going down my spine.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “That would be awful.”

For obvious reasons, I refrained from uttering a word to CeeCee about the sea creature walk. So, over a lunch of popcorn shrimp at A Fish Tale, I let her prattle on about the importance of moisturizer and whether or not Virginia had gotten a boob job. I tried to drop in a few questions about our mothers, in case CeeCee had absorbed any information about Mom’s past from Delilah. But her response was always a carefree shrug and a blithe, “I don’t really remember.”

In the vain hope that CeeCee would eventually remember something she’d been told, I agreed to a trip to the beauty parlor for “mani-pedis.” A pedicure was out of the question—the idea of baring my toes for examination was mortifying—but I succumbed to my first-ever manicure, which turned out to be fairly pleasant.

At six to six, I was studying my buffed, clear-polished nails
as I hurried back down the boardwalk to the marine discovery center. CeeCee had wanted us to browse in the swimwear shop in town, but I’d made up a hasty excuse about needing to get home for dinner.

I was surprised not to see a group forming outside the center; I had figured the beach walks would be a popular draw. Plus, the day was turning into a beautiful evening, the oppressive heat giving way to a soft breeze, and cotton-ball clouds—
cumulus,
I thought automatically—drifting across the eggshell blue sky. A few beachgoers were still lolling about, soaking up the last hours of sunshine. But when I reached the screen door, I saw just one person standing there, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes trained on the water.

Leo.

Instantly, I felt woozy, almost as if I were seasick.

Get a grip,
I told myself sternly.

“I thought I was late!” I said in my most casual voice, strolling over. “Where is everyone else?” I peered through the center’s window into the empty foyer.

Leo turned to me, and for an instant it looked as if his face turned red. But it must have been the rose-colored glow of the sun. I watched his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. He no longer wore his name tag.

“We don’t usually get a big turnout for these after-hours walks,” he replied, glancing down at his flip-flops. “Most
people are heading to The Crabby Hook for happy hour, or having barbecues with their families.”

“Right,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt and wondering if Mom did, in fact, expect me home soon for dinner. Knowing my perfectionist mother, though, she was probably still giving directions to the repairmen. Besides, I’d return to The Mariner before dark.

Leo looked back up at me, and I realized, with a jolt, that I’d been spaced out staring at him, at the dark blond hair that the wind was sweeping across his forehead

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, reaching into my jeans pocket. “How much is the walk?” Where had my head gone?

“No, no,” Leo said, holding up his hands and laughing. “This one’s on the house.”

“Okay…thanks,” I said slowly. Something—a suspicion—flickered inside me, but I dismissed it as utter silliness.

“So let’s get going,” Leo said, kicking off his flip-flops. He lifted them up in one hand, the muscles in his arm moving fluidly, like water. “You should take off your sneakers,” he advised. “We’re going to be walking right where the tide hits the shore.”

“Oh, I—I don’t mind,” I stammered. I had no desire to show Leo my toes. Most of the time, people didn’t even notice, but in my mind, the freakishness was magnified. Last summer,
when Wade and I had gone to see Sideshows by the Seashore at Coney Island, I’d felt as if the bearded ladies and sword swallowers were long-lost siblings.

“You will,” Leo promised with a crooked smile, and his eyes—which turned an even more iridescent green in the sun—searched mine for a second. “You can’t fight the ocean.” Then he shrugged and began walking again, and I followed, relieved.

But as soon as we passed the sunbathers and hit the damp hillock of sand that sloped down to the sea, I realized Leo was right. The unrelenting tide retreated and advanced with ferocity, and my beloved Converse were quickly soaked. Leo strode along easily as the water enveloped his long, browned feet.