Read The Last Song Online

Authors: Nicholas Sparks

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Teenage girls, #FIC000000, #Bildungsromans, #Family Life, #north carolina, #Bildungsromans; American, #Love stories; American, #Love Stories

The Last Song (7 page)

BOOK: The Last Song
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*     *     *

Her first thought as she trudged through the sand was that she should have worn shorts.

It was already hot, the air thick with humidity. Up and down the beach, people were already lying on towels or playing in the surf. Near the pier, she spotted half a dozen surfers floating on their boards, waiting for the perfect wave.

Above them, at the head of the pier, the festival was no more. The rides had been disassembled and the booths had already been hauled away, leaving behind only scattered garbage and food remnants. Moving on, she wandered through the town’s small business district. None of the stores were open yet, but most were the kind she’d never set foot in anyway—touristy beach shops, a couple of clothing stores that seemed to specialize in skirts and blouses that her mom might wear, and a Burger King and McDonald’s, two places she refused to enter on principle. Add in the hotel and half a dozen upscale restaurants and bars, and that was pretty much it. In the end, the only interesting locales were a surf shop, a music store, and an old-fashioned diner where she could imagine hanging out with friends… if she ever made any.

She headed back to the beach and skipped down the dune, noting that the crowds had multiplied. It was a gorgeous, breezy day; the sky overhead was a deep, cloudless blue. If Kayla had been here, she’d even consider spending the day in the sun, but Kayla wasn’t here and she wasn’t about to put on her suit and go sit by herself. But what else was there to do?

Maybe she should try to get a job. It would give her an excuse to be out of the house most of the day. She hadn’t seen any “Help Wanted” signs in the windows downtown, but someone had to be hiring, right?

“Did you make it home okay? Or did the cop end up making a pass at you?”

Looking behind her, Ronnie saw Blaze squinting up at her from the dune. Lost in thought, she hadn’t even noticed her.

“No, he didn’t make a pass at me.”

“Oh, so you made a pass at him?”

Ronnie crossed her arms. “Are you done?”

Blaze shrugged, her expression mischievous, and Ronnie smiled.

“So what happened after I left? Anything exciting?”

“No. The guys took off and I don’t know where they went. I ended up just crashing at Bower’s Point.”

“You didn’t go home?”

“No.” She got to her feet, brushing the sand from her jeans. “Do you have any money?”

“Why?”

Blaze stood straight. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. I’m kind of hungry.”

7

W
ill

W
ill stood in the well beneath the Ford Explorer in his uniform, watching the oil drain while simultaneously doing his best to ignore Scott, something easier said than done. Scott had been haranguing him about the previous evening on and off since they’d arrived at work that morning.

“See, you were thinking about this all wrong,” Scott continued, trying yet another tack. He retrieved three cans of oil and set them on the shelf beside him. “There’s a difference between
hooking up
and
getting back together.

“Aren’t we done with this yet?”

“We would be if you had any sense. But from where I stand, it’s obvious you were confused. Ashley doesn’t want to get back together with you.”

“I wasn’t confused,” Will said. He wiped his hands on a towel. “That’s
exactly
what she was asking.”

“That’s not what Cassie told me.”

Will set aside the towel and reached for his water bottle. His dad’s shop specialized in brake repairs, oil changes, tune-ups, and front-end alignments, and his dad always wanted the place to look as though the floor had been waxed and the place just opened for business. Unfortunately, air-conditioning hadn’t been quite as important to him, and in the summer, the temperature was somewhere between the Mojave and the Sahara. He took a long drink, finishing the bottle before trying to get through to Scott again. Scott was far and away the most stubborn person he’d ever known. The guy could seriously drive him nuts.

“You don’t know Ashley the way I do.” He sighed. “And besides, it’s over and done. I don’t know why you keep talking about it.”

“You mean aside from the fact that Harry didn’t meet Sally last night? Because I’m your friend and I care about you. I want you to enjoy this summer. I want to enjoy this summer. I want to enjoy Cassie.”

“So go out with her, then.”

“If only it was that easy. See, last night I suggested the same thing. But Ashley was so upset that Cassie didn’t want to leave her.”

“I’m really sorry it didn’t work out.”

Scott was dubious. “Yeah, I can tell.”

By that point, the oil had drained. Will grabbed the cans and headed up the steps while Scott stayed below to replace the plug and dump the used oil into the recycling barrel. As Will opened the can and set the funnel, he glanced at Scott below.

“Hey, by the way, did you see the girl who stopped the fight?” he asked. “The one who helped the little boy find his mom?”

It took a moment for the words to register. “You mean the vampire chick in the cartoon shirt?”

“She’s not a vampire.”

“Yeah, I saw her. On the short side, ugly purple streak in her hair, black fingernail polish? You poured your soda over her, remember? She thought you smelled.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, reaching for the pan. “You didn’t notice her expression after you slammed into her, but I did. She couldn’t get away from you fast enough. Hence, you probably smelled.”

“She had to buy a new shirt.”

“So?”

Will added the second can. “I don’t know. She just surprised me. And I haven’t seen her around here before.”

“I repeat: So?”

The thing was, Will wasn’t exactly sure why he was thinking about the girl. Particularly considering how little he knew about her. Yeah, she was pretty—he’d noticed that right off, despite the purple hair and dark mascara—but the beach was full of pretty girls. Nor was it the way she’d stopped the fight in its tracks. Instead, he kept coming back to the way she’d treated the little boy who’d fallen. He’d glimpsed a surprising tenderness beneath her rebellious exterior, and it had piqued his curiosity.

She wasn’t like Ashley at all. And it wasn’t that Ashley was a bad person, because she wasn’t. But there was something superficial about Ashley, even if Scott didn’t want to believe it. In Ashley’s world, everyone and everything was put into neat little boxes: popular or not, expensive or cheap, rich or poor, beautiful or ugly. And he’d eventually grown tired of her shallow value judgments and her inability to accept or appreciate anything in between.

But the girl with the purple streak in her hair…

He knew instinctively that she wasn’t that way. He couldn’t be absolutely sure, of course, but he’d bet on it. She didn’t put others into neat little boxes because she didn’t put herself in one, and that struck him as refreshing and different, especially when compared with the girls he’d known at Laney. Especially Ashley.

Though things were busy at the garage, his thoughts kept drifting back to her more often than he expected.

Not all the time. But enough to make him realize that for whatever reason, he definitely wanted to get to know her a little better, and he found himself wondering whether he would see her again.

8

R
onnie

B
laze led the way to the diner Ronnie had seen on her walk through the business district, and Ronnie had to admit that it did have some charm, particularly if you were fond of the 1950s. There was an old-fashioned counter flanked with stools, the floor was black and white tiles, and cracked red vinyl booths lined the walls. Behind the counter, the menu was written on a chalkboard, and as far as Ronnie could tell, the only change to it in the last thirty years had been the prices.

Blaze ordered a cheeseburger, a chocolate shake, and French fries; Ronnie couldn’t decide and ended up ordering only a Diet Coke. She was hungry, but she wasn’t exactly sure what kind of oil they used in their deep fryer, and neither, it seemed, was anyone else at the diner. Being a vegetarian wasn’t always easy, and there were times when she wanted to give up the whole thing.

Like when her stomach was growling. Like right now.

But she wouldn’t eat here. She couldn’t eat here, not because she was a
vegetarian-on-principle
kind of person, but because she was
vegetarian-because-she-didn’t-want-to-feel-sick
kind of person. She didn’t care what other people ate; it was just that whenever she thought about where meat actually came from, she’d imagine a cow standing in a meadow or Babe the pig, and she’d feel herself getting nauseated.

Blaze seemed happy, though. After she placed her order, she leaned back in the booth. “What do you think about the place?” she asked.

“It’s neat. It’s kind of different.”

“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. My dad used to bring me every Sunday after church for a chocolate shake. They’re the best. They get their ice cream from some tiny place in Georgia, but it’s amazing. You should get one.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying,” Blaze said. “I heard your stomach growling, but whatever. It’s your loss. But thanks for this.”

“No big deal.”

Blaze smiled. “So what happened last night? Are you like… famous or something?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because of the cop and the way he singled you out. There had to be a reason.”

Ronnie made a face. “I think my dad told him to go find me. He even knew where I lived.”

“Sucks being you.”

When Ronnie laughed, Blaze reached for the saltshaker. After tipping it over, she began sprinkling salt onto the table while using a finger to mold it into a pile.

“What did you think of Marcus?” she asked.

“I didn’t really talk to him. Why?”

Blaze seemed to choose her words carefully. “Marcus never liked me,” she said. “Growing up, I mean. I can’t say that I liked him very much, either. He was always kind of… mean, you know? But then, I don’t know, a couple of years ago, things changed. And when I really needed someone, he was there for me.”

Ronnie watched the salt pile grow. “And?”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Fine,” she said. “Whatever.”

“You too.”

“What are you talking about?”

Blaze scraped some of the black polish from her fingernails. “I used to compete in gymnastics, and for maybe four or five years, it was the biggest thing in my life. I ended up quitting because of my coach. He was a real hard-ass, always telling you what you did wrong, never complimenting you on what you did right. Anyway, I was doing a new dismount off the beam one day, and he marched forward screaming at me about the proper way to plant and how I have to freeze and everything I’d heard him scream about a million times before. I was tired of hearing it, you know? So I said, ‘Whatever,’ and he grabbed my arm so hard that he left bruises. Anyway, he says to me, ‘Do you know what you’re saying when you say, “Whatever”? It’s just a code word for the f-word, followed by “you.” And at your age, you never, ever say that to anyone.’” Blaze leaned back. “So now, when someone says it to me, I just say, ‘You too.’”

Right then, the waitress arrived with their food, and she placed it in front of them with an efficient flourish. When she was gone, Ronnie reached for her soda.

“Thanks for the heartwarming story.”

“Whatever.”

Ronnie laughed again, liking her sense of humor.

Blaze leaned across the table. “So what’s worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“What?”

“I’m serious. I always ask people that question. I find it interesting.”

“All right,” Ronnie countered. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“That’s easy. When I was little, I had this neighbor—Mrs. Banderson. She wasn’t the nicest lady, but she wasn’t a witch, either. I mean, it’s not like she locked her doors on Halloween or anything. But she was really into her garden, you know? And her lawn. I mean, if we ever walked across it on our way to the school bus, she’d come storming out, screaming that we were ruining the grass. Anyway, one spring, she planted all these flowers in her garden. Hundreds of them. It was gorgeous. Well, there was this kid across the street named Billy, and he didn’t like Mrs. Banderson much, either, because one time he’d hit a baseball and it went into her backyard, and she wouldn’t give it back. So one day, we were poking around his garden shed, and we came across this big sprayer filled with Roundup. The weed killer? Well, he and I snuck out after dark one night and sprayed all those new flowers, don’t ask me why. I guess at the time we thought it would be kind of funny. No big deal. Just buy some new ones, right? You couldn’t tell right away, of course. It takes a few days before it starts working. And Mrs. Banderson was out there every day, watering and pulling weeds before she noticed that all her new flowers had started to wilt. At first, Billy and I laughed about it, but then I started to notice she’d be out there before school trying to figure out what was wrong, and she’d still be out there when I came back from school. And by the end of the week, all of them were dead.”

“That’s terrible!” Ronnie cried, giggling despite herself.

“I know. And I still feel bad about it. It’s one of those things that I wish I could undo.”

“Did you ever tell her? Or offer to replace the flowers?”

“My parents would have killed me. But I never, ever walked across her lawn again.”

“Wow.”

“Like I said, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. Now it’s your turn.”

Ronnie thought about it. “I didn’t talk to my dad for three years.”

“I already know that. And it’s not that bad. Like I said, I try not to talk to my dad, either. And my mom has no idea where I am most of the time.”

Ronnie glanced away. Above the jukebox was a picture of Bill Haley & His Comets.

“I used to shoplift,” she said, subdued. “A lot. Nothing big. Just more for the thrill of doing it.”

“Used to?”

“Not anymore. I got caught. Actually, I got caught twice, but the second time it was an accident. It went to court, but the charges were continued for a year. Basically, it means that if I don’t get in trouble again, the charges will be dismissed.”

Blaze lowered her burger. “That’s it? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“I never killed someone’s flowers, if that’s what you mean. Or vandalized anything.”

“You’ve never stuck your brother’s head in the toilet? Or crashed the car? Or shaved the cat or something?”

Ronnie gave a small smile. “No.”

“You’re probably the most boring teenager in the world.”

Ronnie giggled again before taking a sip of her soda. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you go home last night?”

Blaze took a pinch of the salt she’d piled up and sprinkled it over her fries. “I didn’t want to.”

“What about your mom? Doesn’t she get mad?”

“Probably,” Blaze said.

Off to the side, the door to the diner swung open and Ronnie turned to see Marcus, Teddy, and Lance heading toward their booth. Marcus wore a T-shirt emblazoned with a skull, and a chain was attached to the belt loop of his jeans.

Blaze scooted over, but strangely, Teddy took a seat beside her while Marcus squeezed in next to Ronnie. As Lance pulled up a chair from an adjoining table and flipped it around before sitting, Marcus reached for Blaze’s plate. Both Teddy and Lance automatically grabbed for the fries.

“Hey, that’s for Blaze,” Ronnie cried, trying to stop them. “Get your own.”

Marcus turned from one to the other. “Yeah?”

“It’s okay,” Blaze said, pushing the plate toward him. “Really. I won’t be able to eat it all anyway.”

Marcus reached for the ketchup, acting as though he’d proved his point. “So what are you two talking about? From the window, it looked intense.”

“Nothing,” Blaze said.

“Let me guess. She’s telling you about her mom’s sexy boyfriend and their late night trapeze acts, right?”

Blaze wiggled in her seat. “Don’t be gross.”

Marcus gave Ronnie a frank stare. “Did she tell you about the night one of her mom’s boyfriends came sneaking into her room? She was like, ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes to get the hell out of here.’”

“Shut up, okay? That’s not funny. And we weren’t talking about him.”

“Whatever,” he said, smirking.

Blaze reached for her shake as Marcus began eating the burger. Teddy and Lance grabbed more fries, and over the next few minutes, the three of them devoured most of what was on the plate. To Ronnie’s dismay, Blaze said nothing, and Ronnie wondered about that.

Or actually, she didn’t wonder. It seemed obvious that Blaze didn’t want Marcus to get mad at her, so she let him do whatever he wanted. She’d seen it before: Kayla, for all her tough posturing, was the same way when it came to guys. And generally, they treated her like dirt.

But she wouldn’t say that here. She knew it would only make things worse.

Blaze sipped her milkshake and put it back on the table. “So what do you guys want to do after this?”

“We’re out,” Teddy grunted. “Our old man needs me and Lance to work today.”

“They’re brothers,” Blaze explained.

Ronnie studied them, not seeing the resemblance. “You are?”

Marcus finished the burger and pushed the plate to the center of the table. “I know. It’s hard to believe parents could have two such ugly kids, huh? Anyway, their family owns a piece-of-crap motel just over the bridge. The pipes are like a hundred years old, and Teddy’s job is to plunge the toilets when they get clogged.”

Ronnie wrinkled her nose, trying to imagine it. “Really?”

Marcus nodded. “Gross, huh? But don’t worry about Teddy. He’s great at it. A real prodigy. He actually enjoys it. And Lance here—his job is to clean the sheets after the noontime crowd rolls through.”

“Ew,” Ronnie said.

“I know. It’s totally disgusting,” Blaze added. “And you should see some of the people that go for the hourly rates. You could catch a disease just walking into the room.”

Ronnie wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so instead she turned to Marcus. “So what do you do?” she asked.

“Whatever I want,” he answered.

“Which means?” Ronnie challenged.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” she said, keeping her voice cool. “I was just asking.”

Teddy grabbed the last of the fries from Blaze’s plate. “It means he hangs out at the motel with us. In his room.”

“You have a room at the motel?”

“I live there,” he said.

The obvious question was why, and she waited for more, but Marcus stayed quiet. She suspected he wanted her to attempt to tease the information out of him. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but she had the sudden sense that he wanted her to be interested in him. Wanted her to like him. Even though Blaze was right there.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he reached for a cigarette. After he lit it, he blew the smoke toward Blaze, then turned to Ronnie.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

Ronnie shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. It seemed like everyone, Blaze included, was waiting for her answer.

“Why?”

“We’re having a little get-together at Bower’s Point. Not just us. A bunch of people. I want you to come. Without the cops this time.”

Blaze studied the tabletop, toying with the pile of salt. When Ronnie didn’t answer, Marcus rose from the table and headed for the door without turning back.

BOOK: The Last Song
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