Summer Nights (13 page)

“Kip!” shouted Con and she heard his powerful stroke coming her way. She found another particle of energy and got far enough from the tree that Con wouldn’t get caught in it, too.

“Con,” she croaked, “Con, help me!”

He was there. She clung to him as Kip had always refused to cling to anybody. “My foot. Caught on a tree branch underwater. I thought I would drown. I can’t believe it happened to me. On my river!”

She was trembling with fatigue. “Stop swimming and hang onto me,” said Con. “The
Duet
is just downstream, we’ll be back on board in a heartbeat.”

“I wasn’t sure how many more heartbeats I was going to have,” Kip panted. She let him support her, and her sodden hair rested on his cheek.

Kip’s life, which had so annoyed him an hour earlier, took on a precious gleam. This brilliant, capable girl—probably the one in their entire class who really would accomplish great things—had nearly died at seventeen in a stupid accident. All that Kip could have done and been—gone. Foot caught underwater.

Anne’s right, he thought, thinking not of Kip’s hair and weight, but of Anne’s. Do I really want to hold Anne’s foot underwater? Yank her down to ordinary things when she can have the world?

The
Duet
’s engines rumbled smoothly. He could feel her vibrations in the water in which they hung.

The captain’s huge shout rang through the night. “Kids!” he bellowed. “In the water! Diving off my boat? In the middle of the night? I’ll never run a party of kids again. Stupid fools. Haul those two aboard! You idiots down there! You could have drowned!”

A
MERICA IS A NATION
of moving vans. Parents are transferred, or want a larger house, or insist on a different school system. They want a new climate or to be farther from the city traffic, or closer to the city excitement.

But Anne, Emily, Beth Rose, Molly, and Kip had lived in Westerly all their lives. They had changed houses, but never towns. It was only in high school that they had gotten to know each other well.

And now, it seemed, they had hardly known each other at all.

Anne was only surprised that Molly had done nothing overtly cruel. It would have been Molly’s style to get in touch with Ivory Glynn and tell her about Anne’s past, explaining to the aging actress than Anne was not at all the sort of person Miss Glynn wanted around.

Beth felt it was bad enough that adorable Blaze had been taken up not by brilliant Kip but by rotten Molly. Blaze didn’t even know she was rotten, he thought she was cute and funny. But worse than that, both Jere and Blaze thought Beth Rose was actually best friends with Molly! What a thought. But what could Beth do about it? Molly had set things up so it was difficult to let the boys know the truth unless Beth wanted to be pretty mean and bring up a lot of ugly stories about Molly.

Beth Rose and Anne turned their backs on Molly easily, because it was something they had done for years. Molly could crash all the parties she wanted, and on a boat where there was no point in raising a fuss, she could get away with it. But that did not, and never would, make Molly one of them.

Two friends shut out an unwanted third. It was a nice, powerful feeling—the solidarity of their backs, the power of exclusion. They pretended to search the glossy black water for signs of Kip and Con.

But it was Emily who materialized out of the night. Emily flinging herself on Molly, Emily begging for Molly’s friendship, Emily crying Thank you, thank you! To Molly!

Emily hauled Molly over to Anne and Beth, to bring them into the celebration. Anne’s yellow hair brushed against Beth’s red mass of hair. When Emily reached them her own dark hair seemed as black as the night. Molly, hair shorter, skirt shorter, earrings longer, seemed part of another tribe.

“You see,” cried Emily, her voice ringing with pleasure, “I did this stupid, childish, dumb, horrible, idiot thing.”

Anne and Beth waited.

“I threw away my ring,” said Emily.

Beth Rose stared at Molly. Molly had told the truth? Molly stared back, hostility and loathing written plain on her face.

“Matt’s ring?” Anne repeated. She could no more imagine throwing away a diamond than throwing away a house.

Emily nodded. “Can you believe it? I’m the one who threw it away and
I
can’t believe it. Thank heaven for Molly. You see, Matt is taking that job and he’ll be gone for months at a time. I was so mad at him for abandoning me that—” she shuddered, remembering that furious act. “But Molly saved us,” said Emily, smiling brilliantly at her.

Molly did not smile back.

Beth was aware that Jeremiah Dunstan had returned, complete with camera. He was getting every facial reaction, every line of dialogue. How obscene cameras are, thought Beth. Jere is catching us like prisoners. No matter how we change and grow, we will be trapped on that film, repeating this ugly encounter over and over.

I was the bad guy, Beth Rose thought. But I’m always nice! I always forgive, I always help out, I always do the nice thing.

But it had never crossed her mind to believe Molly or to bother with Molly. Could Blaze after all, with the piercing sight that newcomers often have, be right? Could Molly be the girl worth knowing—and Beth the reject?

Molly was starting to leave. Beth could not let her go without saying something. But what? Beth took three difficult steps toward Molly, who backed off. Beth found herself playing to the camera—wanting to be sure that her moment of being nice was filmed, to offset her moment of being mean.

So why am I being nice? Beth asked herself. For Molly’s sake? For my sake? For Jere’s? For the audience that will see the film?

She had a curious surreal feeling she was actually behaving nicely for the
film itself,
as if she wanted the
camera
to think more highly of her.

Molly shrugged, making it clear that Beth’s good behavior, or lack of it, was not one of Molly’s interests in life.

The captain’s bellow cut through the air. “Kids!?!” he screamed, as though he had just seen the most infuriating, disgusting spectacle of his life.

All kids on board immediately rushed to see what or whom could cause that bellow.

It was Kip and Con, treading water in the path of the
Duet,
waving frantically. The captain shouted with rage. Boys rushed to haul Kip and Con back on board. One of the crew brought blankets and another chewed Con out thoroughly for such stupidity, just the sort of thing they had expected from a conceited preppie jock with enough money to rent a whole boat for a whole night.

The party guests held their breath, half agreeing with the crew (who, after all, did not want to add two drowned teenagers to their accomplishments) and half dying to hear Con scream back.

But Con screamed nothing. Quietly he admitted, “We almost did drown. I’m sorry we scared you. We scared ourselves, too. It was pretty dumb.”

Con Winter, being humble.

It silenced the entire boat.

From the upper deck came a high giggle. “Did you get that on film? We’ll definitely want to show Con being humble at our reunion.”

The party burst into laughter, and Con shook a fist lightly toward the teasing. The kids broke up into little groups once more, laughing, and speculating on what might have happened out on the water.

Beth touched Molly’s shoulder. She hadn’t finished her apology and Beth liked things neatly rounded off. “You see, I thought—” she began.

Molly interrupted her. “And you were right. I wasn’t going to give the ring back. Does that satisfy you, Beth Rose Chapman? I
was
going to keep it. It isn’t every day you acquire a free diamond. But—” Molly broke off. She spread her hands and looked at them, slim and long and lovely…and bare of rings.

So why did she do the right thing? Beth wondered. For Emily? For Matt? For herself? Or just because it was the right thing? Molly never noticed right from wrong before—why tonight?

The water churned behind the boat as they picked up speed again. Beth’s thoughts churned in rhythm with it.

Jere said, “Beth, you look as if you’re trying to decide the fate of nations.”

Beth jumped. “No, just—” she collected herself, “—just the fate of our golf game. I want to go.” She turned to Molly as if underlining this. “But you have that wedding appointment,” Beth said to Jere.

“Wedding appointment?” said Emily. “You make it sound like a hair appointment.”

“It’s at four-thirty,” said Jere. “How long can it take to play nine holes of golf?”

And Molly said to Beth, “Subtle, Beth.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to think—”

Molly broke into Beth’s floundering speech. She had no patience with people who had to justify themselves and explain themselves and rattle on and on about something that was over and done with. “Nine?” said Molly. “You think we’re going to stop with a piddly little nine holes? We’re doing eighteen.”

“Hey, great,” said Blaze, getting all excited. “How much does it cost to rent clubs?”

“A fortune,” Molly told him. “Bring tons of money. We want to have snacks and stuff at the clubhouse after.”

“What if it rains?” said Jere.

“It won’t.”

“What do we wear?” said Beth.

“I have white jeans I like, and I’m sort of thinking of this turquoise-blue shirt. Women golfers wear little skirts but I like pants for any sports.”

“Okay. I have white jeans, too.” Beth thought, I always want everything to match. I want everybody to get along, and all jeans the same color, and all faces happy.

Matt had slipped back among them. Emily slipped her left hand into his right. Matt gripped it tightly, his thumb drawing back and forth over the rough facets of the stone in her ring. Emily leaned against him, and he pulled her in front of him, resting his chin in her hair.

“It’d be fun to go golfing with them. You don’t mind do you? Shall we go, too?”

Emily nodded. She didn’t expect Blaze and Jere to realize there was anything odd about Molly being the hostess, but she had thought Matt would at least show a little surprise. But boys never saw much. They never saw hostility among girls, or guessed at cliques that excluded, or spotted the layers of flirting and angling that each girl at the party could have described in detail.

She could feel Matt’s satisfaction with life. The way he swayed her in front of him, the relaxed strength of his muscles, the easy voice with which he asked Molly for details. He had put their entire argument, all their pain, behind him. She, Emily, would turn the conversation and confrontation over in her mind a thousand times. Matt would simply accept that it was all okay now, and probably never think of it again.

Emily watched Molly. Molly’s short hair was untouched by the night wind. She looked like a painted mannequin. Even her short skirt did not move, but stayed like plastic against Molly’s legs. Molly’s bright, brittle laugh rang like a doorbell.

So I am to be friends with Molly, Emily thought. What a strange turn of events.

She could tell Beth Rose was having an equally hard time with the concept, but Beth, being Beth, was trying very hard. Molly, being Molly, was laughing at her, and before long, the first thread of friendship would have snapped.

By September, Molly and Beth Rose and Emily would be the only ones left in Westerly. Perhaps the thread would not snap; perhaps they would need each other too much.

Emily was surprised to realize that she was just as relaxed as Matt. She thought,
I’m glad.
Deep down, I think I wanted him to go! I didn’t really want to start worrying about Tupperware and telephone bills, Ajax and mending. I think I wanted high school to go on forever—dating and playing games. Getting engaged was like playing a game.

So Matt would go change tires at Daytona and at Lime Rock and Indianapolis.

And she—Emily—what would she do?

The world seemed full rather than lost. So full she could hardly think. First things first, thought Emily. Tomorrow, up at dawn. Golfing with Molly and Beth.

C
ON FINALLY LOCATED ANNE
. Not an easy task. She had removed herself entirely from everybody. “You’re mad at me,” he said lightly.

“You were always quick,” Anne told him.

“I went swimming with Kip.” Con was full of himself. He had understood a thousand important things out there in the river. He could hardly wait to share his new understanding, wonderful self with Anne. “Kip practically drowned,” he told her. “She got her foot caught in a sunken tree branch. It really made me think.”

“About what? Trees?”

“About us,” Con said.

Anne sighed and moved fractionally away from him, surveying the shore, craning her neck to see if they were in sight of the dock yet. The bottom fell out of Con’s self-confidence. Anne just wanted the party to end, so she could start her new life. Her better life. It’s too late, thought Con, I left it until too late. “No,” he said, “about the baby.”

Anne sucked in her breath and stood very still.

“I’m sorry, Anne,” he said. “You went it all alone, and I stayed as far off as I could. When Kip was drowning, though, I thought—I’m holding Anne’s ankle under water, too. About Paris.”

She smiled slightly. “Does this mean you’re less upset that I’m going?”

“You were always quick,” he said.

They were the same height, always at the same eye level. Con moved closer to her. He had so much to tell her, so many things that tonight, finally, he could admit. Could face.

But Anne’s little smile remained untouched and unemotional. She said as soon as they docked could he please drive her straight home, because she needed a good night’s sleep. “It was lovely of you to give me this party, and invite all my friends, Con,” she said, as if thanking a stranger for picking up her dropped mitten. She looked around vaguely, but hardly including him in her glance. “Let’s gather up the presents everybody gave me. And I’ve left my sweater someplace. Then we can go straight to the car.”

“Anne, I want to talk.
Really
talk.”

Her beautiful eyes stared into his. “But Con,” said his girlfriend, and she was not being cruel, merely factual, “there’s no time.”