Ten (3 page)

FOUR

MEG’S BACKPACK THUMPED AGAINST HER HIP AS
she ran. She didn’t even look at the ocean to see if a rogue wave might be gathering to wash her out to sea. She honestly didn’t care. She was so elated T.J. still wanted to be friends with her that death at the hands of a merciless current seemed a small price to pay.

He hadn’t spoken to her since Homecoming. The whole thing had been a perfect storm of not awesome. The image of Minnie’s face when she’d confronted Meg was imprinted on her brain. Eyes rimmed red from crying, mascara running in jagged black trails down her face, sunken cheeks, pinched jaw.
You’re going to Homecoming with T.J.?

Minnie had flown into a crying rage. She grabbed Meg’s shoulders so fiercely she left five-pointed bruises on each side.
You’re going to Homecoming with T.J.?
She spat the words out, her fingernails digging through the thin cotton of Meg’s T-shirt and her eyes dashing back and forth across Meg’s face. This wasn’t her friend, this wasn’t the person she’d known for years. She’d been replaced by someone irrational and crazy. It was one of the scariest things Meg had ever seen.

She’d been determined to tell Minnie the truth but there, in the moment, confronted with Minnie’s pain, she just couldn’t do it. Their friendship was more important to her than a boy.

No. No, of course not. Why would he want to go with me?

Then she’d texted T.J. to say she couldn’t go. Not even a call. It was the coward’s way out, but she knew if she faced him in person, her resolve would crumble.

And that was that.

Meg forced the painful memory from her mind as she reached the far side of the isthmus, where the footbridge gave way to a sturdy outcropping of rock. The point rose before her, tall and massive, and slightly out of place. Stone steps led up from the beach. Hewn into to the stark granite of the island, each step was polished flat and smooth—probably more a result of the elements than of foot traffic, Meg guessed as she hurried up them—and cut a gray path up the side of the forested hill.

“Meg, slow down!” T.J. hustled up the steps behind her.

“What, can’t catch me, Mr. Football?” Meg said with a laugh. She was surprised how easy it was to slip back into flirt mode with T.J. Like she’d never left it. She bolted the last few steps and emerged in a clearing at the top of the hill, T.J. right on her heels.

“Damn, you’re fast,” he panted. “Didn’t think a writer would have that in her.”

“Har har,” Meg said, wrinkling her nose. She couldn’t keep from smiling, though.

“Hell of a climb.” T.J. pointed behind Meg. “But worth it, don’t you think?”

Meg turned and caught her breath.

White Rock House rose before them. A cross between a lighthouse and a Creole mansion, it stood like a shining white-washed beacon in the middle of nowhere. A covered patio with a wrought-iron balustrade stretched across the front entrance and disappeared around the eastern corner, and the peaked gables on both the second and third floors hunched forward over the windows, guarding them, perhaps, from the onslaught of Mother Nature. A huge four-story tower emerged from the middle of the house looking like it didn’t actually belong to the gabled façade at all.

Meg’s eye caught something glistening on the side of the house. She squinted and realized the entire ground floor was covered with an appliqué of shimmering white stones.

At least White Rock House lived up to its name.

Beyond the house, the graduated tree line fell off steeply in all directions. The house had been built like a medieval castle—in a strategic position to protect it from attacking Huns. It was definitely the most secluded, least accessible place she’d ever been. And despite the brilliant white rocks and a sparkling light blazing forth from every window, Meg couldn’t help but think the house looked lonely on that point, cut off from the rest of the world.

“Takes a certain kind of person to build that house way the hell out here, right?” T.J. said.

“You really have to stop verbalizing what’s in my head,” Meg said with a half smile. “It’s getting creepy.”

“Oh, yeah?” T.J. beamed, as if being told he was a potential creeper was the greatest compliment Meg could have paid him.

“It’s kind of cool, the communion with the elements,” Ben said. He deposited Minnie’s bags on the grass, then reached his hand back and helped Minnie up the last of the steps. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Minnie said, making a concerted effort not to pant as she finished the climb. “Elements. Totally.” Her pale face was pink with the physical effort of climbing the stairs and she looked as if she might go into cardiac arrest at any moment.

T.J. nudged Meg in the ribs and she had to stare at the ground to keep from laughing.

A gust of wind ripped through the clearing and every tree on the island seemed to spring to life.

“We should get inside,” T.J. said. “Looks like it’s about to start raging again.”

T.J. led the way across the waterlogged front lawn to the wraparound patio. He marched up to the gleaming white door and threw it open. “We’re back!”

They stood in a foyer that extended from the main part of the house, almost as if it had been added as an afterthought. Before them, a hallway opened up to a massive staircase. The ceiling slanted upward to a point under one of the house’s many gables, and the walls were bare and white except for a row of coat pegs holding a couple of neon-yellow rain slickers on one wall, and a low entry table against the other.

“Dude!” another familiar voice called from the hallway, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. “Did Jessica and the girls get—”

Gunner Shields appeared in the doorway. He had one of Meg’s favorite Most Unfortunate Name Combinations of all time, and it made her giggle inside every time she thought of it.

Despite the fact that it was February in Seattle, Gunner sported a deep tan, and his sun-streaked locks flopped down over each ear. He wore his usual uniform: North Shore T-shirt, baggy jeans, flip-flops. For Gunner, every day was “surf’s up.”

Even under his faux tan, Meg noticed the color rise in his face when he saw Minnie. “Hey,” he mumbled.

Minnie leaned heavily on Ben’s arm and smiled. “Hello, Gun Show. I didn’t know
you’d
be here this weekend.”

Gunner looked furtively over his shoulder. “Yeah, um … well …,” he stammered.

“No Jessica,” T.J. piped in, saving his friend from embarrassment. “Guess we’ll have to wait ’til morning.”

“Dude,” Gunner said with a nod at Ben. “Sucks for you.”

Ben glanced at Minnie. “I’ll survive.”

Minnie giggled and tightened her grip on Ben’s arm. Oh boy. Going after the hostess’s boyfriend was probably not the best idea Minnie’d had that day.

“Babe.” A short Asian girl slipped up behind Gunner. She was a punkish pixie in a black T-shirt and striped arm warmers, with a fat streak of magenta hair sweeping over her eyes. “I need your help in the kitchen.”

Meg saw Minnie stiffen as Gunner and Magenta Hair disappeared around the corner. T.J. must have seen it too. “This way.” He started up the stairs. “Let me show you to your room and then you can meet everybody else.”

Meg was relieved as she followed T.J. up a narrow staircase. So Gunner had a new girlfriend. Good. She’d always liked his sort of good-natured doofiness. And he had worshipped Minnie, which always gave Meg a twinge of guilt since she knew her friend didn’t really care about him. She was glad he’d moved on.

Without thinking, her eyes drifted to T.J. Why couldn’t she move on too? That flirty closeness they’d experienced as they were climbing up to the house … it was the first moment of real happiness Meg had felt since the Homecoming disaster. But she had to get over him. Had to. He was a player—as Minnie brought up repeatedly—they were going to college a thousand miles apart, and her best friend was in love with him. Three strikes. She had to move on.

T.J. caught her staring at him and smiled. “I think you’ll like your room.”

How was she supposed to get over him when he kept smiling at her like that?

“You’re playing host now?” Minnie said. Meg thought she caught an edge to her voice.

“Nah,” Ben said. “When we got here, the front door was unlocked and there was a note on the table that said ‘Make yourselves at home.’ So we did.”

T.J. nodded. “There’s Wi-Fi and satellite, even an Xbox. Oh, and the fridge is fully stocked. Food, juice, beer.”

“There’s beer?” Minnie said.

Meg shook her head. Just what she needed. Drunk Minnie was a hot mess. She tended to a get a little … mean, and the booze inevitably lead to laughter, falling down, making out, screaming jags, fistfights, and tears, usually—but not always—in that order.

“Calm down, Frank-the-Tank,” Meg said. “Let’s at least put our stuff away before you start shot-gunning brewskis.”

Minnie ignored her. “Where are we going?”

“T.J. saved this room for you guys.” Ben pointed up the stairs to the top of the tower. “He thought you’d like it.”

Meg stole a glance at T.J. as they rounded the staircase. It was hard to tell with his dark skin, but was his face ever so slightly pink?

The staircase narrowed and hugged all four walls as it wound its way upward around the square tower. There were bare windows that let in enough light to illuminate the entire tower, including the stairs as they disappeared through the ceiling. Meg followed T.J. up and emerged into a garret. It was a small room, plainly furnished with two twin beds, an easy chair, a dresser, and a full-length mirror. But the real selling point for Meg was the enormous row of windows on each of its four walls. She could see the lights of Roche Harbor across the bay, dim and muted through the low fog, and through another window, the dancing glow of the Taylors’ house. Meg couldn’t wait until morning; the views would be stunning.

“We have to sleep up here?” Minnie said, looking around. “There isn’t even a bathroom.”

“It’s down on the second floor,” T.J. said. “I’m sure we could move you if you hate it. We’ll probably have to refigure the sleeping arrangements when Jessica and the others come tomorrow anyway.”

“Nope, we’re good,” Meg said.

“But—” Minnie started.

Meg didn’t let her finish. “We’re good.” It was the kind of room she’d always dreamed of staying in as a child, like a turret in a castle. She could picture herself up there, tucked away from the rest of the party, writing on her laptop or in her journal. It was perfect, and she wasn’t going to let Minnie mess it up.

Minnie plopped down on the bed nearest the stairs. “Fine.”

“Come down when you’re ready,” T.J. said as he disappeared down the stairs behind Ben. “We’re making dinner.”

FIVE

“BEN’S CUTE,” MEG SAID AS SHE UNZIPPED HER
backpack.

Minnie shrugged. “Yeah. He’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

“That’s what I said.”

So much for Minnie’s good mood. “I dunno, seems like you were kind of into him. And it was really sweet the way he helped you across the beach and up to the house.”

“I guess.”

Meg frowned. Minnie was being intentionally pissy; Meg knew damn well that she had already set her sights on Ben. “Tall. Blue eyes. Hair as blond as yours. What’s not to like?”

“Tons.” Minnie opened the wardrobe and examined the closet space.

“Like?”

“He dyes his hair, for starters—his eyebrows are black.”

“Oh.” Leave it to Minnie to notice something like that. Meg was clueless. “I just thought you guys were cute together.”

Minnie spun around. “What, are you trying to pawn me off on someone before you abandon me in September?”

Meg was struck momentarily speechless. She totally didn’t see that one coming.

“Well, aren’t you?” Minnie asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re trying to make me someone else’s problem before you leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you! I’m going to college.” These arguments were starting to make them sound like a married couple on the verge of divorce.

“You could do that here.”

“The creative writing program at U-Dub didn’t accept me,” Meg lied. “You know that.”

Minnie opened her mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it. She snapped her jaw shut and turned abruptly away.

Meg returned to unpacking. Did Minnie actually know that the closest college Meg applied to was over a thousand miles away? Impossible. The only person who knew for sure where Meg had applied was her mom, who wrote the application checks. And if there was one person on the planet who wanted to make sure Meg went to school far away from her clingy best friend, it was Meg’s mom.

“You and T.J. seem pretty buddy-buddy,” Minnie said out of the blue.

So that’s what was bothering her. Meg had been dreading this, ever since T.J. walked her up to the house from the dock. She’d hoped that the attention Minnie was getting from Ben would distract her from what she wasn’t getting from T.J.

No such luck.

“Minnie, don’t start.”

“What?” Minnie pulled a strapless dress out of her wheelie bag and laid it out on her bed. “I was just voicing an observation.”

Meg grabbed some Tshirts and a pair of jeans from her backpack and shoved them in a drawer, leaving her journal and laptop at the bottom of the bag. “I’m not interested in T.J.”

“Could have fooled me.” Minnie’s voice had a singsong quality, but Meg wasn’t buying it. Minnie was hurt by T.J.’s snub and was lashing out. “Seemed like you guys were flirting pretty hardcore.”

They hadn’t had this conversation since Homecoming, both of them preferring to let the whole incident lie untouched, unresolved. Until now.

“We’re just friends, Mins,” Meg said.

“Friends don’t ask friends to the Homecoming dance.”

“No one asked me to the dance,” Meg said. She’d lied about that night so many times now, she could do it easily. “I was home sick with the flu that night.” Yeah, the heartbreak flu. She’d stayed home all night pretending to be sick while she wrote pages and pages of emo, angst-filled crap in her diary.

“Promise?”

Meg forced a smile. Yet another promise she couldn’t keep. “Minnie, I promise. I’m not interested in T.J. Fletcher. Pinky swear.”