The Last Song (6 page)

“Keep talking. You’re just so fascinating. I’m going to get something to drink.”

“Get me a bottled water, will you?”

As Will walked off, something white flashed by him, heading in Scott’s direction; Scott saw it, too, and instinctively lunged out of the way, dropping his cheeseburger in the process.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Scott demanded, spinning around. On the ground lay a wadded-up box of French fries. Behind him, Teddy and Lance had their hands stuffed in their pockets. Marcus was standing between them, trying and failing to appear innocent.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marcus answered.

“This!” Scott snarled, kicking the box back at them.

It was the tone, Will would later think, that made everyone around them tense. Will felt the hair on his neck prickle at the palpable, almost physical dislocation of air and space, a tremor that promised violence.

Violence that Marcus obviously wanted…

As if he were baiting him.

Will saw a father scoop up his son and move away, while Ashley and Cassie, back from the pier, froze on the outskirts. Off to the side, Will recognized Galadriel—she called herself Blaze these days—circling closer.

Scott glared at them, his jaw clenching. “You know, I’m getting sick and tired of your crap.”

“Whatcha gonna do?” Marcus smirked. “Shoot a bottle rocket at me?”

That was all it took. As Scott took a sudden step forward, Will pushed his way frantically through the crowd, trying to reach his friend in time.

Marcus didn’t move. Not good. Will knew he and his friends were capable of anything… and worst of all, they knew what Scott had done…

But Scott, in a fury, didn’t seem to care. As Will surged forward, Teddy and Lance fanned out, drawing Scott into their midst. He tried to close the gap, but Scott was moving too quickly, and suddenly everything seemed to happen at once. Marcus took a half step backward as Teddy kicked over a stool, forcing Scott to jump out of the way. He slammed into a table, toppling it. Scott caught his balance and balled his hands into fists. Lance closed in from the side. As Will forced his way forward, gaining momentum, he vaguely heard the wailing sounds of a toddler. Breaking free of the crowd, he veered toward Lance when all at once a girl stepped forward into the fray.

“Just stop!” the girl shouted, thrusting her arms out. “Knock it off! All of you!”

Her voice was surprisingly loud and authoritative, enough to make Will stop in his tracks. Everyone else froze, and in the sudden silence, the cries of the toddler sounded shrill. The girl pivoted, glaring at each of the brawlers in turn, and as soon as Will saw the purple streak in her hair, he realized exactly where he’d seen her before. Only now she was wearing an oversize T-shirt with a fish on the front.

“The fight’s over! There is no fight! Can’t you see this kid is hurt?”

Challenging them to contradict her, she pushed her way between Scott and Marcus and stooped to the crying toddler, who had been knocked over in the commotion. He was three or four, and his shirt was pumpkin orange. When the girl spoke to him, her voice was soft, her smile reassuring.

“Are you okay, sweetie? Where’s your mom? Let’s go find her, okay?”

The toddler seemed to focus momentarily on her shirt.

“This is Nemo,” she said. “He got lost, too. Do you like Nemo?”

Off to the side, a panic-stricken woman holding a baby pushed through the crowd, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Jason? Where are you? Have you seen a little boy? Blond hair, orange shirt?”

Relief crossed her features as soon as she spotted him. She adjusted the baby on her hip as she rushed to his side.

“You can’t run off like that, Jason!” she cried. “You scared me. Are you okay?”

“Nemo,” he said, pointing at the girl.

The mother turned, noticing the girl for the first time. “Thank you—he just wandered off when I was changing the baby’s diaper and—”

“It’s okay,” the girl said, shaking her head. “He’s fine.”

Will watched the mother lead her kids away, then he turned back to the girl, noticing the kind way she smiled as the young boy toddled off. Once they’d moved far enough away, however, the girl suddenly seemed to realize that everyone in the crowd was staring at her. She crossed her arms, self-conscious when the crowd began to part for a rapidly approaching police officer.

Marcus quickly murmured something to Scott before melting back into the crowd. Teddy and Lance did the same. Blaze turned to follow them as well, and surprising Will, the girl with the purple streak reached out to grab her arm.

“Wait! Where are you going?” she called out.

Blaze shook her arm free, walking backward. “Bower’s Point.”

“Where’s that?”

“Just head down the beach. You’ll find it.” Blaze turned and rushed after Marcus.

The girl seemed unsure what to do. By then the tension, so thick only moments before, was dissipating as quickly as it had arisen. Scott righted the table and headed toward Will just as the girl was approached by a man he assumed was her father.

“There you are!” he called out with a mixture of relief and exasperation. “We’ve been looking for you. You ready to go?”

The girl, who’d been watching Blaze, was obviously unhappy to see him.

“No,” she said simply. With that, she strode into the crowd, heading for the beach. A young boy walked up to the father.

“I guess she’s not hungry,” the boy offered.

The man put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, watching as she descended the steps to the beach without a backward glance. “I guess not,” he said.

“Can you believe that?” Scott raged, pulling Will away from the scene he’d been observing so closely. Scott was still hyped up, the adrenaline surging. “I was about to pound that freak.”

“Uh… yeah,” he responded. He shook his head. “I’m not sure Teddy and Lance would have let you.”

“They wouldn’t have done anything. Those guys are all show.”

Will wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t say anything.

Scott took a breath. “Hold up. Here comes the cop.”

The officer approached them slowly, obviously trying to gauge the situation.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“Nothing, Officer,” Scott answered, sounding demure.

“I heard there was a fight.”

“No, sir.”

The officer waited for more, his expression skeptical. Neither Scott nor Will said anything. By then, the condiment area was filling with people going about their business. The officer surveyed the scene, making sure he wasn’t missing anything, then suddenly his face lit up with recognition at the sight of someone standing behind Will.

“Is that you, Steve?” he called out.

Will watched him stride off toward the girl’s father.

Ashley and Cassie sidled up to them. Cassie’s face was flushed. “Are you okay?” she fluttered.

“I’m fine,” Scott answered.

“That guy’s crazy. What happened? I didn’t see how it started.”

“He threw something at me, and I wasn’t going to put up with it. I’m sick and tired of the way that guy acts. He thinks everyone’s afraid of him and that he can do whatever he wants, but the next time he tries it, it’s not going to be pretty…”

Will tuned him out. Scott was always a big talker; he did the same thing during their volleyball matches, and Will had learned long ago to ignore it.

He turned away, catching sight of the officer chatting with the girl’s dad, wondering why the girl had been so intent on getting away from her father. And why she was hanging out with Marcus. She wasn’t like them, and he somehow doubted she knew what she was getting into with them. As Scott went on, assuring Cassie that he could easily have handled the three of them, Will found himself straining to overhear the police officer’s conversation with the girl’s father.

“Oh, hey, Pete,” the father said. “What’s going on?”

“Same old stuff,” the officer responded. “Doing my best to keep things under control out here. How’s the window coming?”

“Slowly.”

“That’s what you said the last time I asked.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got a secret weapon. This is my son, Jonah. He’s going to be my assistant this summer.”

“Yeah? Good for you, little man… Wasn’t your daughter supposed to come down here, too, Steve?”

“She’s here,” the father said.

“Yeah, but she left again,” the boy added. “She’s pretty mad at Dad.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Will watched the father point toward the beach. “Do you have any idea where they might be going?”

The officer squinted as he scanned the waterline. “Could be anywhere. But a couple of those kids are bad news. Especially Marcus. Trust me, you don’t want her keeping company with him.”

Scott was still boasting to a rapt Cassie and Ashley. Blocking him out, Will suddenly felt the urge to call out to the police officer. He knew it wasn’t his place to say anything. He didn’t know the girl, didn’t know why she’d stormed off in the first place. Maybe she had a good reason. But as he saw the concern crease her dad’s face, he recalled her patience and kindness when she’d rescued the toddler, and the words were out before he could stop them.

“She went to Bower’s Point,” he announced.

Scott stopped talking in midsentence, and Ashley turned to him with a frown. The other three studied him uncertainly.

“Your daughter, right?” When the father nodded slightly, he went on. “She’s going to Bower’s Point.”

The officer continued to stare at him, then turned back to the father. “When I finish up here, I’ll go talk to her and see if I can convince her to go home, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that, Pete.”

The officer continued to study the group in the distance. “I think in this instance, it’s better if I go.”

Inexplicably, Will felt a strange wave of relief. It must have shown, because when he turned back toward his friends, each of them was staring at him.

“What the hell was that all about?” Scott demanded.

Will didn’t answer. He couldn’t, because he didn’t really understand it himself.

6

R
onnie

U
nder normal circumstances, Ronnie probably would have appreciated an evening like this. In New York, the lights from the city made it impossible to see many stars, but here, it was just the opposite. Even with the layer of marine haze, she could clearly make out the Milky Way, and directly to the south, Venus glowed brightly. The waves crashed and rolled rhythmically along the beach, and on the horizon, she could see the faint lights of half a dozen shrimp boats.

But the circumstances weren’t normal. As she stood on the porch, she glared at the officer, livid beyond belief.

No, change that. She wasn’t just livid. She was
seething.
What had happened was so… overprotective, so
over the top,
she could still barely process it. Her first thought was simply to hitchhike to the bus station and buy herself a ticket back to New York. She wouldn’t tell her dad or her mom; she’d call Kayla. Once she was there, she would figure out what to do next. No matter what she decided, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

But that wasn’t possible. Not with Officer Pete here. He stood behind her now, making sure she went inside.

She still couldn’t believe it. How could her dad—her own flesh-and-blood father—do something like this? She was almost an adult, she hadn’t been doing anything wrong, and it wasn’t even midnight. What was the problem? Why did he have to turn this into something far bigger than it was? Oh sure, at first Officer Pete had made it sound like it had been an ordinary, run-of-the-mill order to vacate their spot on Bower’s Point—something that hadn’t surprised the others—but then he’d turned to her. Zeroed in on her specifically.

“I’m taking you home,” he’d said, making it sound as if she were eight years old.

“No thanks,” she’d responded.

“Then I’ll have to arrest you on vagrancy charges, and have your dad bring you home.”

It dawned on her then that her dad had asked the police to bring her home, and there was an instant when she was frozen in mortification.

Sure, she’d had problems with her mom, and yeah, she’d blown off her curfew now and then. But never, ever, not even once, had her mother sent the police after her.

On the porch, the officer intruded on her thoughts. “Go on in,” he prompted, making it fairly clear that if she didn’t open the door, he would.

From inside, she could hear the soft sounds of the piano, and she recognized the sonata by Edvard Grieg in E minor. She took a deep breath before opening the door, then slammed it shut behind her.

Her father stopped playing and looked up as she glared at him.

“You sent the cops after me?”

Her dad said nothing, but his silence was enough.

“Why would you do something like that?” she demanded. “How could you do something like that?”

He said nothing.

“What is it? You didn’t want me to have fun? You didn’t trust me? You didn’t get the fact that I don’t want to be here?”

Her father folded his hands in his lap. “I know you don’t want to be here…”

She took a step forward, still glaring. “So you decide you want to ruin my life, too?”

“Who’s Marcus?”

“Who cares!” she shouted. “That’s not the point! You’re not going to monitor every single person I ever talk to, so don’t even try!”

“I’m not trying—”

“I hate being here! Don’t you get that? And I hate you, too!”

She stared at him, her face daring him to contradict her. Hoping he’d try, so she’d be able to say it again.

But her dad said nothing, as usual. She hated that kind of weakness. In a fury, she crossed the room toward the alcove, grabbed the picture of her playing the piano—the one with her dad beside her on the bench—and hurled it across the room. Though he flinched at the sound of breaking glass, he remained quiet.

“What? Nothing to say?”

He cleared his throat. “Your bedroom’s the first door on the right.”

She didn’t even want to dignify his comment with a response, so she stormed down the hall, determined to have nothing more to do with him.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he called out. “I love you.”

There was a moment, just a moment, when she cringed at what she’d said to him; but her regret vanished as quickly as it had come. It was as if he hadn’t even realized she’d been angry: She heard him begin to play the piano again, picking up exactly where he’d left off.

In the bedroom—not hard to find, considering there were only three doors off the hallway, one to the bathroom and the other to her dad’s room—Ronnie flipped on the light. With a frustrated sigh, she peeled off the ridiculous Nemo T-shirt she’d almost forgotten she was wearing.

It had been the worst day of her life.

Oh, she knew she was being melodramatic about the whole thing. She wasn’t stupid. Still, it hadn’t been a great one. About the only good thing to come out of the whole day was meeting Blaze, which gave her hope that she’d have at least one person to spend time with this summer.

Assuming, of course, that Blaze still wanted to spend time with her. After Dad’s little stunt, even that was in doubt. Blaze and the rest of them were probably still talking about it. Probably laughing about it. It was the kind of thing Kayla would bring up for years.

The whole thing made her sick to her stomach. She tossed the Nemo shirt into the corner—if she never saw it again, it would be too soon—and began slipping off her concert shirt.

“Before I get too grossed out, you should know I’m in here.”

Ronnie jumped at the sound, whirling around to see Jonah staring at her.

“Get out!” she screamed. “What are you doing in here? This is my room!”

“No, it’s our room,” Jonah said. He pointed. “See? Two beds.”

“I’m not going to share a room with you!”

He tilted his head to the side. “You’re going to sleep in Dad’s room?”

She opened her mouth to respond, considered moving to the living room before quickly realizing she wasn’t going out there again, then closed her mouth without a word. She stomped toward her suitcase, unzipped the top, and flung open the lid.
Anna Karenina
lay on top, and she tossed it aside, searching for her pajamas.

“I rode the Ferris wheel,” Jonah said. “It was pretty cool to be so high. That’s how Dad found you.”

“Great.”

“It was awesome. Did you ride it?”

“No.”

“You should have. I could see all the way to New York.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could. I can see pretty far. With my glasses, I mean. Dad said I have eagle eyes.”

“Yeah, right.”

Jonah said nothing. Instead, he reached for the teddy bear he’d brought with him from home. It was the one he clutched whenever he was nervous, and Ronnie winced, regretting her words. Sometimes the way he talked made it easy to think of him as an adult, but as he pulled the bear to his chest, she knew she shouldn’t have been so harsh. Though he was precocious, though he was verbal to the point of annoyance at times, he was small for his age, more the size of a six- or seven-year-old than a ten-year-old. It had never been easy for him. He’d been born three months prematurely, and he suffered from asthma, poor vision, and a lack of fine-motor coordination. She knew kids his age could be cruel.

“I didn’t mean that. With your glasses, you definitely have eagle eyes.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good now,” he mumbled, but when he turned away and faced the wall, she winced again. He was a sweet kid. A pain in the butt sometimes, but she knew he didn’t have a mean bone in him.

She went over to his bed and sat beside him. “Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just having a bad night.”

“I know,” he said.

“Did you go on any of the other rides?”

“Dad took me on most of them. He almost got sick, but I didn’t. And I wasn’t scared at all in the haunted house. I could tell the ghosts were fake.”

She patted him on the hip. “You’ve always been pretty brave.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Like that time when the lights went out in the apartment? You were scared that night. I wasn’t scared, though.”

“I remember.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer. But then he grew quiet, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you miss Mom?”

Ronnie reached for the covers. “Yeah.”

“I kind of miss her, too. And I didn’t like being here alone.”

“Dad was in the other room,” she said.

“I know. But I’m glad you came home anyway.”

“Me, too.”

He smiled before looking worried again. “Do you think Mom is doing okay?”

“She’s fine,” she assured him. She pulled up the covers. “But I know she misses you, too.”

In the morning, with sunlight peeking through the curtains, it took Ronnie a few seconds to realize where she was. Blinking at the clock, she thought,
You’ve got to be kidding me.

Eight o’clock? In the morning? In the
summer
?

She plopped back down, only to find herself staring at the ceiling, already knowing that sleep was out of the question. Not with the sun shooting daggers through the windows. Not with her father already hammering on the piano in the living room. As she suddenly remembered what had happened last night, the anger she felt at what her father had done resurfaced.

Welcome to another day in paradise.

Outside the window, she heard the distant roar of engines. She rose from the bed and pulled aside the curtain, only to jump back, startled at the sight of a raccoon sitting atop a torn bag of garbage. While the strewn garbage was gross, the raccoon was cute, and she tapped the glass, trying to get its attention.

It was only then that she noticed the bars on the window.

Bars. On. The. Window.

Trapped.

Gritting her teeth, she whirled around and marched into the living room. Jonah was watching cartoons and eating a bowl of cereal; her dad glanced up but continued to play.

She put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to stop. He didn’t. She noticed that the picture she’d thrown was back in place atop the piano, albeit without the glass.

“You can’t keep me locked up all summer,” she said. “It’s not going to happen.”

Her dad glanced up, though he continued to play. “What are you talking about?”

“You put bars on the window! Like I’m supposed to be your prisoner?”

Jonah continued to watch the cartoon. “I told you she’d be mad,” he commented.

Steve shook his head, his hands continuing to move across the keyboard. “I didn’t put them up. They came with the house.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“They did,” Jonah said. “To protect the art.”

“I’m not talking to you, Jonah!” She turned back to her dad. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re not going to spend this summer treating me like I’m still a little girl! I’m eighteen years old!”

“You won’t be eighteen until August twentieth,” Jonah said behind her.

“Would you please stay out of this!” She whirled around to face him. “This is between me and Dad.”

Jonah frowned. “But you’re not eighteen yet.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I thought you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget! I’m not stupid.”

“But you said—”

“Would you just shut up for a second?” she said, unable to hide her exasperation. She swiveled her gaze back to her dad, who’d continued to play, never missing a note. “What you did last night was…” She stopped, unable to put all that was going on, all that had happened, into words. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. Don’t you get that? You gave up the right to tell me what to do when you walked out the door. And would you
please
listen to me!”

Abruptly, her dad stopped playing.

“I don’t like this little game you’re playing.”

He seemed confused. “What game?”

“This! Playing the piano every minute I’m here! I don’t care how much you want me to play! I’m never going to play the piano again! Especially not for you!”

“Okay.”

She waited for more, but there was nothing.

“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

Her dad seemed to debate how to answer. “Do you want breakfast? I made some bacon.”

“Bacon?” she demanded. “You made
bacon
?”

“Uh-oh,” Jonah said.

Her dad glanced at Jonah.

“She’s a vegetarian, Dad,” he explained.

“Really?” he asked.

Jonah answered for her. “For three years. But she’s weird sometimes, so it makes sense.”

Ronnie stared at them in amazement, wondering how the conversation had been hijacked. This wasn’t about bacon, this was about what happened last night. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she said. “If you ever send the police to bring me home again, I won’t just refuse to play the piano. I won’t just go home. I’ll never, ever speak to you again. And if you don’t believe me, try me. I’ve already gone three years without talking to you, and it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

With that, she stomped back to her room. Twenty minutes later, after showering and changing, she was out the door.