Seaweed (4 page)

“Wow,” Sawyer said, eyes filling with admiration. “Your parents let you get a tattoo? Let’s see it.”

Tor stood. “Actually, it’s no big deal.”

It got silent and tense around the table. He broke it up by adding, “Hey, I have to go, but thanks for the game,” then he headed back into the school.

Why’d he just leave like that? Was he embarrassed?

“Do you really think that was a tattoo?” Becca said.

I hated to mention it, but I wanted to know if anyone else thought what I had. “They weren’t bruises, were they?”

“Nah,” Mike said. “Those were tattoos. My brother has a bunch, but obviously Tor hit a better parlor than my brother did. My brother’s look like crap next to his.”

Becca said, “Isn’t he kind of young for tattoos?”

“I wonder why he wouldn’t show them to us,” Samara added.

I was wondering the same thing.

“Maybe he’s just shy. Or humble,” said Becca. “We’re just not used to seeing that trait much around here.”

Mike threw the Frisbee at her. She caught it and proudly snubbed him—so much for humility.

CHAPTER SIX

I got up early every morning in order to take Sidney for a walk before school. This was love in action on my part—I wasn’t a morning person. I slapped my alarm like a flapping baby bird begging for more time before dragging myself out of bed. The sun was shining brightly and that lifted my mood. I chose my sweat shorts and a hoodie to go for our run, grateful that my legs seemed to have normalized. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Ouch. A batch of small lumps had formed behind each ear. Pimples? I rubbed them with my fingers; the whole area was swollen and tender. I’d really have to scrub with shampoo when I showered later.

I energized with a glass of juice then called Sidney to the front door, bending down to give his neck a rub.

“Good morning, Sid.” His wet tongue slid up my nose and his bad doggy breath blasted my face. “Ew, Sidney, that’s gross.”

We had a large half-acre lot with a narrow strip of forest that separated our house from the ocean. Sidney bounded happily down the dirt path with me jogging to keep up.

We had come to the end of the path that opened up to a rocky beach when I heard a strange noise. Sidney stopped and whimpered, pawing at his ears.

I cocked my head and concentrated on the sound. Not quite the song of a dolphin or whale, and certainly not the birdsong or chirping of a forest creature. It had a strange musical clicking pattern that tickled my ears. Its tone and cadence were foreign to me.

Sidney’s whimpers grew louder. “Shh, Sidney.” I patted his head. He followed me a few steps farther, my sneakers crunching down on the pebbly beach. I paused and peeked around a soft bend.

Through the rising mist I saw Tor in the distance, sitting on a smooth water worn boulder, facing the ocean. He wore blue jeans and no sandals, just bare feet.

His t-shirt lay on the sand.

I held my breath and this time I knew I was doing it. Tor was bare-chested. I could see the contours of all his muscles—pecs, shoulder, abs. He had a swimmer’s body, fit and lean, and though beautiful, it wasn’t what had made me gasp with wonder.

It was his tattoos. They covered his shoulders, falling half way down his biceps, like inky lace looping down his chest.

First of all, I still couldn’t believe his parents or uncle would let an underaged teenager get so many tattoos, and secondly, I couldn’t believe how beautiful they were.

I’d seen Mike’s older brother’s tattoos, and they were nothing like this. John’s were a dull, ugly blackish green and red.

Tor’s had an effervescent quality. The greens, blues and pinks shimmered in the sun like jewels.

Kind of like…fish scales.

The clicking music continued. Was it coming from Tor? I tilted my head. The melody was clear, piercing through the rhythmic roar of the waves slapping ashore.

Yup, I was right. The unusual musical clicking was coming from him. Sidney pressed his body down on the pebbles, and barked.

The clicking stopped.

I bent down and spoke sharply into Sidney’s ear. “Stop it. Lie down.” When I looked up again, Tor had his shirt on, all his beautiful tattoos hidden away. He was looking my direction.

“Hi, Dori.” Tor climbed over the rocks and jumped onto the sand beside me. I knew he was wondering what I’d just heard and seen. I was determined not to give that away.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there.” I tucked my hands in my pockets and rocked on my shoes, feeling awkward, like I’d interrupted something personal. “Sidney and I aren’t used to sharing our beach.”

“Your beach?”

“Well, not technically, but practically. You know what I mean.”

And suddenly I was mortified. My legs had abruptly turned blood red, like that time at swim club and were incredibly itchy. I tried to ignore it.

“We don’t usually meet up with people here. Due to the lack of toe grabbing sand. We like that about it.”

“I like this strip of beach, too,” Tor said. “For the same reasons you do.”

Man, not only were my legs flaring and itchy, the lumps behind my ears were burning. I pushed loose strands of hair behind my ears and tried to itch the bumps nonchalantly.

I didn’t want to look at my legs because I was afraid it would draw his attention to them. I felt like I was shedding a second skin. What was the matter with me? I leaned against the rocks, hoping to hide them.

“So, you must live close by, then.”

Tor nodded and turned to look the direction he’d come from. “Up shore a ways.”

While his head was turned I took the opportunity to scratch behind my ears, and then give my legs a go. I felt like a dog with fleas. Why, when I was finally alone with Tor and having a normal conversation did I have to go rabid?

I didn’t see him look back at me. I was dying. He’d caught me scratching! Please just dig a hole and bury me now.

His eyes narrowed and I was sure he was going to make up some excuse and bolt. I would if I were him.
More than friends
was probably a big turn off right about now.

“When do you turn sixteen?” he said instead. Like that mattered at this moment. I was working up a sweat with all this itching and nerves. I unzipped my hoodie and took it off, forgetting that I only had a tank top on underneath.

“Um, this summer, the end of next month.”

Please look away again so I can scratch. I felt myself squirm, and as much as I wanted to stay with Tor, I just had to get away. Before I could say anything Tor pointed to my shoulder.

“What happened?”

I looked down. A bruise was forming. “Uh, I don’t know. I must’ve run into something.” Insane itchiness. “I have to go, Tor. Um, I need to get ready for school.”

“Hey, did you want to do something sometime?”

He was asking me on a date?
Now
?

“Yeah, sure. Uh, we could go sailing? My family has a great little boat.”

He breathed in deeply and pursed his lips, uncertainty overtaking his face.

Then I remembered the whole jumping-in-the-ocean fiasco. Maybe that incident had freaked him out more than he let on.

“Or, we could do something else,” I said. Anything, as long as I could leave and scratch my skin off first.

“Okay,” he said, finally. “The weather’s great for sailing.”

I breathed out in relief. “Meet me at the pier today at four.”

I jogged home as fast as I could, scratching at my legs the whole way.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Samara and I entered our English class for our final exam. Sawyer leaned against a desk, his hand flapping through the air as he talked, like he had news. “Crazy Jim Macdonald swears he saw one.”

“He’s usually half drunk,” Mike said. “There’s a reason why they call him crazy, y’ know?”

“I know he’s crazy,” Sawyer said. “Just never heard him weave a whopper like that before.”

“Well, maybe he believes it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true,” Mike said. “It could’ve been something else.”

“What’s going on?” I dropped my bag on my desk and sat down.

“Sawyer got accosted by Crazy Jim. Apparently we have a mermaid on the loose in the bay.”

I shook my head and threw Sawyer a skeptical look. “You believe something Crazy Jim said? You’re as crazy as he is.”

“He was pretty convincing.” Sawyer’s excitement morphed into something more like sheepishness. “Apparently she had long red hair and a load of jewels around her neck.”

I scoffed. “Did she wear a seashell bra?”

“Poor Crazy Jim.” Samara clucked her tongue.

“If he did see anything, it was probably a dolphin or sturgeon,” I said. “They can look mythical, especially at twilight if the water is rough.”

I rushed down to the marina after school. Main Street in Eastcove ran parallel to the beach and all the commercial establishments were located on that strip. The general store, the fish market, a scattering of restaurants, the gift shops that popped up on the boardwalk over the summer, and the farmer’s market–they all ran along four blocks facing the ocean including the two marinas with their sailboats and fishing vessels painted in bright primary colors.

My flip-flops made smacking noises on the wooden dock. I stopped when I came to our sail boat, a seventeen foot Vanguard Nomad with a white and blue hull. It didn’t scream opulence like some of the larger and newer boats at the pier did, only fitting four or five passengers, tops, but I loved it because it was compact. It was the only boat we’d ever owned and it felt like a member of the family.

The nylon line that ran from our boat to the dock had a lot of slack to account for the tide. There were times when the tide was all the way out and the boats actually rested on the ocean floor. There was enough water now to push out, but I’d use the little motor to get us far enough away from the pier and the other boats, so I didn’t accidentally knock into them. Once we were far enough out and into the wind, I’d rely solely on the sails to get us wherever we wanted to go.

I wore surfer shorts and a tank top with a white long sleeve shirt opened over it. My hair was pulled back into a messy updo and I had sunglasses on to cut the glare.

Before I’d left my house I’d slathered on the lotion Mom gave me— my red leg problem, and my behind the ear patches, came and went, but the cream helped—and then topped it off with thirty-block sunscreen.

I did a quick visual check to make sure all the lines and rigging were untangled and that all the shackles and pins securing the lines to the hull were in place.

Just as I was about to pull the ropes out of the cleats and winches, Tor showed up dressed like he was about to head into a mosquito-infested jungle instead of the open sea. He wore blue jeans tucked into rubber boots, a long sleeve shirt buttoned up and wide sunglasses that covered most of his face.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hi to you, too,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said, watching him stand stiffly on the dock. “Come aboard.”

Tor climbed on and began working proficiently on the jib sail.

“For someone who clearly looks uncomfortable on a boat, you seem to know what you’re doing.”

Tor shrugged, then untied the rope that had us secured to the dock. I started the motor, pointing the boat out to sea. Once we were clear of the dock and other boats, I cut the engine and hoisted the main sail. Tor hoisted the jib sail. I couldn’t help the cheesy thought that crossed my mind:
We made a great team
.

Out on the bay, I felt giddy. The crisp saline wind on my face, hair flapping, the rolling and rocking of the waves—it was home to me. I was almost just as at ease on the water as I was in it. I had been sailing since before I could walk. I could do this in my sleep.

Tor rested up against the edge looking as handsome as ever, despite the get up. We got out to the middle of the bay, far enough that the people on the shore looked like specks. I turned the rudder until we were crosswind, which slowed us down considerably. Tor lowered the main sail and then the jib. We were far enough off shore and the tide was at a level where I could safely lower the anchor.

“We’re staying awhile?” Tor said.

“I like to take a break when I’m hungry. I brought tuna sandwiches.” I opened the cooler. “Do you like tuna? I didn’t even think.”

“Love it.”

I handed him one. Just as he was about to take it, I pulled my hand back.

“First you have to take your shirt off.”

I gasped. It sounded like I wanted to play a stripping game. I felt my cheeks burn. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

The shock on his face morphed into a smirk. “What did you mean?”

“Just, that you’re over dressed for this party. Loosen up a bit.”

Tor didn’t move. I gripped his sandwich as he held my gaze. It seemed like a really big deal to him.