Star Shack (15 page)

I'm up at dawn, but I have a couple of errands to take care of first thing so I'm actually running late by the time I hit the boardwalk, ready for the Star Shack. I was hoping for time to get a cup of coffee. But Annabelle already has a long list of things she's mad at me about…

It's actually sunny out today, and I see a few people lounging on the beach. The sun feels good, but weirdly I miss the gray and the rain. Gingerbread just doesn't feel like Gingerbread if it looks like a real beach.

As I get closer to the Star Shack, I notice a crowd milling around out front. Generally they're lined up, not wandering around…Several of the High-Five dudes are there, baseball caps low over their eyes, looking pissed. Ben and Scott step toward me.

“Dude, what's going on?” Ben asks as I get closer. “Why did you guys close down?”

I resist the urge to tell him he might have had one too many at last night's party. “We didn't close anything—”

“Whatever you say, dude,” Scott interrupts, stepping up beside him. “But there's a whole bunch of people out there worried as hell they're not getting their horoscope today.” He gestures to the booth. And that's when I notice the sign is gone. Actually, all of the signs are gone. Was our booth vandalized?

Nate,
I think.
I bet he came back for revenge…

I walk closer, ignoring the crowd around me, all the people asking if we're still going to be open today. I can't believe anyone at Gingerbread would trash our booth. Well, except for Nate—but would he really come back? Very doubtful. And as I step inside, I realize what happened.

The Star Shack wasn't vandalized. It was closed permanently by the person who came up with the idea in the first place. And I should have seen it coming.

“Pete, you'll still give me a reading, right?” Scott is asking.

“Um, actually, I think the Star Shack is on…a small hiatus,” I say, hoping that will mollify the group. “Sorry. But I'll have more news soon.”

“Dude, you better give these people gift certificates or something,” Ben mutters.

A mob of angry people wanting romantic advice is the least of my problems right now. I have exactly two hours to find Annabelle. Judging by the finality of what she's done, that is going to be no easy task.

***

I start with the obvious, the Opera Café. Jed is serenading Daisy with a full-on aria and doesn't even see me, which is fine. I'm not here to chat. There's no sign of Annabelle, though as I glance around, I remember first seeing her this summer—her curls wild around her face and her green eyes shining with happiness at seeing me.

Now I'm not sure where it went so wrong, but I know I'm desperate to see that look in her eyes. I think about asking Jed and Daisy if they've seen her, just to know if I'm on the right track, but then Daisy joins Jed in a staggeringly awful operatic duet and I flee.

Next I call Annabelle's house. No answer. I knew her parents would be out, of course, but I was hoping things would be easy and she'd just pick up. No dice. I cruise the rest of the boardwalk, hitting Kitty's Clam Shack, where Annabelle dared me to eat a double order of fried clams last year.

Dares,
I think.
None of this would have happened except for a stupid dare…

I remember what I thought about the fried clams; I thought that a dare is a dare so it was worth the stomachache. Little did I know that the clams were questionable and that the stomachache would last three days—but Annabelle felt bad and brought me chicken soup and the sports page every day.

But of course, she's not there. She's not at the diner or Freddy's Fabulous Funnel Cakes either.

Last, I head down to the rides. I scan the Ferris wheel and bumper cars, but there's no cloud of caramel hair to be seen. She's not in the haunted house or at the bouncy tent or at the row of games. As I pass the booth with the basketball nets, I remember two summers ago when we watched a macho guy from Jersey try to win a panda bear for his heavily made-up girlfriend.

She was cheering him on, saying, “Come on, Cowboy. You can do it!” And even though he spent probably fifty bucks, he never managed to sink a shot. Annabelle called me “Cowboy” for a few days after that, until I started calling her “A-Belle” again—and then it was back to “Ski Bum.”

Okay, so she's not on the boardwalk. I head over to my car and cruise the spots farther away: the bowling alley, the Everything Beach Store, even Putt a Little. But she's nowhere. I even drive out to the resort I took her to for last year's birthday, thinking maybe she got as nostalgic as I am. But of course she's not there.

Why would she be? I kept my plans a secret too long, so why would she think I remembered her birthday? She probably just thinks I forgot, which is usually what you want when you plan to surprise someone. But in this case, it's about to backfire in a major way.

I rub my forehead, then my temples. How could I have blown things so badly? Did I have to go so far as to hook up with some lame girl and totally ignore Annabelle? And now I'm thinking about something my baseball coach said (which makes it even worse): sometimes I focus so much on the single win that I lose sight of the real victory.

But, hey, what do you know? Surprisingly, like astrology, even my coach is right. Every time I tried to fix it, I just made it worse. I thought if I got into astrology, it would make things up to her—it would show her I was sorry—but instead it just seemed to upset her more. And, if I'm being truly honest, it made me feel good that I was better at it than she seemed to be.

I find myself parking at the resort hotel, walking into the plush lobby. When we were here, Annabelle was wearing a black dress made of silky material…I could barely take my eyes off her. It wasn't that she looked beautiful; she always looks beautiful. It was that she'd dressed up because she knew it would be a special night. She'd put her hair back in these sparkly comb things, and her face was glowing. I couldn't wait to be done with dinner, to be alone with her, so I could finally do what I'd been dreaming of for so long: to kiss her—

Wait.

I know where Annabelle is. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out. I run out to my car and drive like a madman back to the boardwalk. I park, kick my shoes to the backseat, and then head onto the beach. The sun has been hidden by a thick cloud cover, and the air is thick, ready for a major rain. Our spot is about a quarter mile from the boardwalk, between our houses. And as I squint through the mist, I see: there she is, sitting at the foot of the dune, her face turned away from me.

I'm running now, running to reach her, and when she looks up, I start laughing with relief. I've found her.

“There you are!” I gasp.

She frowns. “You're mad about the booth, right?” she asks.

The what?
“Of course not,” I whisper. She's still looking all cold and angry, and suddenly the words I really want to say are stuck in my throat.

“Good—because I'm through with it,” she says. She starts to walk away.

“Annabelle, wait.”

“For what?” she asks. “You want to tell me about my moon sign? Or that you have a new girlfriend? You won the dare. Or lost. I can't even remember anymore. Whatever it is, you still won.”

“No,” I say.

“What do you mean, no?” she asks, turning up her palms as though she knows I have nothing to offer. “You either proved that astrology is a crock or that you're a genius at it! Either way, I lose!”

I shake my head. The clouds open and I feel the first drops of rain, and in that moment, I know I can do this. I reach out and touch her arm. “I only lose if you walk away right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Annabelle, I…you win, all right? You win.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Explain how.”

“The only explanation is…I love you.” I can't believe how good it feels to finally say what I've been feeling for so long—really since that very first day in front of Laser Tag Larry's. Good and painful and very nerve-wracking. But mostly good.

Her eyes narrow. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Even though you spent the summer dating another girl and barely speaking to me the entire time?” she asks. She takes a step away from me, as though she's going to run away any moment.

“Sarah was…a mistake.”

She stares at me.

Finally I'm overcome with both desperation and exhaustion. “Annabelle, I'd give up my Carl Yastrzemski jersey for you, okay?”

And it's finally there: a hint of a smile. “Really?” she asks. “You care to put your money where your mouth is?”

It's a damn good thing I'm wearing said jersey. I rip it off and run for the ocean. But just as I'm about to fling it into the churning water, she grabs my arm, laughing.

“Wait! It's okay. You don't need to do it.”

I turn to her and she's close, her hair soft on my arm, and for a minute it feels so good to have her near that I can't even think.

“Are you sure?” I ask when I can form words. “Because I will if you want me to.”

She steps in closer, and the smell of her hair and skin intoxicates me. “I'm sure,” she says.

And then she reaches up and pulls my face down to hers and kisses me. There's no more mist, no more beach, no more ocean; there is just her body against mine, her lips gentle against mine…just the bliss that is Annabelle. When we finally come up for air, she smiles at me.

“I love you too, Cowboy,” she says.

Born October 21: Scorpio

Rising Sign: Capricorn

You are quick to hide your true feelings, and once hurt, you will keep those feeling completely submerged. But once the right person unlocks your heart, you love deeply, with profound passion and devotion. Stay away from fire signs like Leos, Sagittarians, and Arians, as fire and water do not mix well.

Pete kisses me again, and I feel that familiar shiver, delicious and sweet. His hands are soft against my face, and his body feels strong and warm in the cool rain. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but yes: this is even more incredible than our first kiss. When Pete pulls back and looks into my eyes, I can tell he feels the same. Which makes me very eager for our
next
kiss.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says.

I don't wait for him to tell me what it is. I just pull his face down to mine and kiss him again.

“Wait!” After we break away this time, he laughs. “We're going to miss the surprise if we keep this up,” he says. He moves a wet strand of hair off my forehead, smoothing it back so tenderly I shudder, then grabs my arm and yanks me toward the boardwalk. “Come with me and you'll see.”

“You know I hate waiting,” I tell him as we scurry off the damp beach, our fingers intertwined, our hips bumping comfortably together with every step. “Maybe you could just give me a hint?”

“I will say nothing except it's something to mark a very important moment.”

My heart swells. He remembered my birthday. Of course he remembered.

We are soaking wet by the time we get to my house, and I figure Pete just wants me to change into something dry before we go to the surprise. I kick off my wet shoes on the porch, then open the door—

“SURPRISE!”

I stagger back into Pete's arms. My living room is filled. John and Vanessa are standing by the door; Jed is sitting on the arm of the sofa with Daisy standing over him, her arms looped around him. And there's Aisha and her boyfriend…It's so crowded I can't even process all the faces—but maybe that's because my attention is caught by the two people coming down the stairs.

“Grandma Hillary!” I shout, running over and flinging my arms around her.

“And what am I, chopped horse meat?” Gabe asks from behind her. He's got a beard going, so I barely recognize him; he truly looks like he's just backpacked the Himalayas. I open my arms and pull him into the embrace.

“Settle down, there,” he mutters.

“I can't believe you guys are here,” I gasp.

“We got in this morning,” Grandma Hillary explains. “Your parents came to pick us up. We'd planned to come home for your birthday and we were going to tell you, but then that young man sent me an email a few weeks ago, asking me to keep it a surprise.” She nods toward Pete. “Seems he'd been cooking up this party for some time.”

I am so overwhelmed I can't even find words. Pete has been planning this for weeks? As I look around the room, it's clearly true. Of course he has. Punk rock blares from the speakers; everyone I care about has gathered together under balloons, streamers, and a banner that reads: “Happy Birthday, Annabelle and Pete.”

“Wait…Your birthday isn't until October,” I say as Pete comes up and gives Grandma Hillary a kiss on the cheek. She leads Gabe into the crowd toward a table piled high with cookies, cake, drinks, and presents.

“I flipped the day and month of my birthday so I could be a Leo too,” Pete says. “I'm 8/10 instead of 10/8. Much better, don't you think? Leos are meant for each other.”

“Well, not really,” I say. “Leos have traits—”

“Whatever,” he interrupts, looking into my eyes. “
We're
meant for each other. You knew I never really bought into astrology anyway…much.”

In answer, I draw him close for another kiss, and the whole room erupts into cheers. We pull apart laughing.

“It's about time!” Jed calls.

“Time for presents,” Gabe chimes in, pushing through the crowd with a pile of packages.

“Oh, no,” I hear Pete say. He's looking behind the present table at a long, thin package resting against the wall.

“What is it?” I ask.

Pete grimaces. “My parents got me new skis.”

I laugh and then remember something. “Were you really going to go skiing with Sarah?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Right after I become a Yankees fan.”

I knew it, but it's still good to hear. “Where is she, by the way…?”

He shrugs. “Honestly, I have no idea. She texted me saying that she was going home. I haven't heard from her since—”

“Yankees fan?” Grandma Hillary interrupts, wrapping an arm around each of us. “Did I hear you right, Pete? I know I'll see you in a Yanks jersey yet.”

Pete grins. “We missed you this summer.”

“Well, we saw some beautiful things, but I tell you, there's no place like Gingerbread,” she says. “Now who wants to place some bets on the upcoming World Series?”

***

After the presents are opened, after Jed and Daisy lead a truly awful operatic version of “Happy Birthday,” and after everyone hangs out and eats cake, people begin to trickle out. Soon just Pete and my family are left.

“Time to start cleaning,” Pete says.

“No, you're the birthday kids,” Grandma Hillary says. “You go have fun. Let us do the cleaning.”

We protest but they insist, so Pete grabs our jackets, takes my hand, and leads me to the beach. The rain has turned into a soft mist.

“That was the best birthday ever,” I tell Pete, giving him a squeeze with the arm I have wrapped around his waist. “Thank you.” The sand is wet under our feet, and waves spill gently onto the shore. It's the perfect Gingerbread evening.

“Thank
you
for putting up with me this summer,” he says.

“Well, it wasn't easy…”

“I know,” he says, kissing me on top of my head. “So I got you two birthday presents to help make up for it.” He reached into his jacket and pulls out an envelope and a flat package wrapped in red paper.

“They'd better be good if you're going to make up for Sarah,” I joke.

“Just remember you were the one who had us start the Star Shack,” he says.

“But that was kind of fun,” I say. “And look how many people we helped with our readings. You
are
a natural. You know that, right?”

“True, true,” he says, and I can tell from his cocky tone that he's only half-joking. “But I don't know if I really buy the whole astrology thing in the end. I mean, the stars say we're not compatible.”

“Sometimes the stars are wrong,” I say, watching a sea gull dive under the water after a fish. “Dead wrong. Honestly, I think
I'm
done with astrology. I'm ready to let the future come and surprise me.”

“I'm with you on that,” Pete says. “So are you going to open your presents?”

I open up the envelope, and a bunch of tickets fall into my hands.

“Bus tickets from Albany to Mount Snow,” he tells me. “I had to spend that Star Shack money on something, so I got the expensive express tickets.”

I hug him. “Perfect,” I say. And then I turn my attention to the second gift. I rip open the paper and then open the photograph box. Inside is a picture of us at thirteen that Grandma Hillary took. We're standing in front of Laser Tag Larry's. Pete's arm is slung over my shoulder, and we are grinning into each other's eyes, totally unaware of the camera or the people walking by. We are just looking at each other like we've found everything that ever mattered. Because, really, we had.