The Shore Page 7

  Polly was envious of Avery for being so quick on her feet and knowing the right thing to say. And she was glad that April seemed to be getting into the spirit of the party. Avery dumped the clams into the sink.

  “Slimy,” April noted.

  “You should have tried pawing through them,” Avery said with a laugh.

  “I’ll leave that part to you guys,” April said. “I have no idea what to do with clams. I’ve never been to a clambake.”

  “Neither has Avery. You two have something in common,” Polly said.

  April and Avery looked at each other, and Polly instantly felt like an idiot. It was a dumb thing to say. Like Avery and April were going to bond over the idea of never having been to a clambake before. If Avery always knew the right thing to say, Polly was the exact opposite. She could always count on herself to say the wrong thing.

  “Well, well,” someone said, “look at all the cooks in the kitchen.”

  It was Sabrina, in a cream skirt and a pink top with a draped neck that, of course, revealed enough to get her arrested in most Muslim countries. Polly felt the muscles in her shoulders begin to tense. “We’re getting ready for the clambake. Want to help?”

  “Oh, uh . . .” Sabrina appeared stymied. “I really don’t cook.”

  “You left that to your mom?” Polly guessed.

  “Not really. We’ve always had cooks.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” April said, rolling her eyes.

  Even Avery, the model of decorum, looked surprised. They hit an awkward silence. Polly was pretty sure none of them had ever met anyone like Sabrina before. What in the world was she doing sharing a summer house on the Jersey Shore with them? It sounded like she would be more comfortable on the French Riviera.

  “You want to learn?” Avery finally asked.

  Polly thought for sure that Sabrina was going to make some sort of sarcastic remark. Like cooking was for commoners. Instead, she was surprised when the girl said, “Well, okay, I’ll try anything once.”

  The remark about trying anything once reminded Polly of finding Sabrina’s clothes on the stairs the night before. No, no, that’s not nice, she told herself, and tried to clear it from her brain.

  “We’ll start you with something easy,” Avery said.

  “How about you tear up the lettuce for the salad? Rip pieces up and dump them in the bowl.”

  “Don’t you just chop it with a knife?” Sabrina asked.

  “You could, but we’re not eating right away, and if you tear it instead of cut it, the lettuce stays fresh longer,” Avery answered.

  Polly hadn’t known that, and from the look on her face, neither had April. Then Polly realized why: Avery has probably had to do all the cooking for her family since her mother died.

  “So, where are the guys hiding?” Sabrina asked as she tore the lettuce.

  “Curt’s rehearsing with his band,” Avery said.

  Polly noticed that April seemed rather flushed, as though the heat from the oven was making her overly warm. But that seemed odd now that she’d taken the bread out.

  “And the . . . other guys?” Sabrina asked.

  Suddenly Polly had a feeling she knew why Sabrina had agreed to help them prepare the meal.

  “Lucas and Owen said they were going to the beach to get the fire started,” April offered.

  “I guess that must have been some party last night,” Sabrina said, in what sounded like a complete non sequitur.

  “You really don’t remember?” Polly asked.

  Sabrina shook her head. “I think I must have been really tired from moving here and everything. And I hardly had anything to eat. It’s just a blank. I mean . . . was it that bad?”

  Avery and April smiled at each other, but Polly felt bad for Sabrina. She would have felt sorry for anyone in that position. “No, not really,” she said. “And you know what? I think Owen’s a lot nicer than you might think. I know he acted like a jerk last night at the party. But he’s got a sensitive side too.”

  “Would you agree?” April asked Sabrina.

  “How do we cook the clams?” Sabrina asked, avoiding the question.

  “We’ll steam them by the fire,” said Polly.

  “Wait,” said Avery. “Before we totally change the subject. I think that’s something Curt and Owen have in common. I mean, they can both come off gruff, but there’s another side to them as well.”

  “I’ll take the clams outside and see how the fire’s coming,” April suddenly volunteered, scooping the clams out of the sink and into a bucket and hurrying out to the beach.

  Polly watched her go. Neither Avery nor Sabrina appeared to think there was anything odd about April’s behavior. But Polly definitely did.

  Lugging the clams down to the beach, April was glad to get away from the other girls. She wasn’t sure why she’d made the bread, except that she knew she could. She also didn’t know why she’d played that song for Curt. But there was something magnetic about him.

  Don’t get sucked in, she warned herself. You’re not here to try to steal your roommate’s boyfriend.

  But she could see that Curt had liked her music. She wondered if Avery appreciated music the way she and Curt did.

  The bucket of clams was getting heavy. She glanced around, looking for the fire that the guys were supposed to have built. All she saw were people here and there who’d stayed late on the beach. Once again, her thoughts went to Curt and she imagined finding him on the beach, strumming a guitar.

  Stop! she told herself. Stop thinking about someone else’s boyfriend. And where are those other guys, anyway? she thought, getting annoyed. Typical. You do all the work and give the guys one simple job and they can’t do it.

  Finally she spotted a guy sitting on the sand next to what looked like a pile of driftwood. Sure enough, it was Owen. Polly might have insisted that he had a sensitive side, but from the little April had heard, his only clear goal for the summer seemed to involve sleeping with every girl in their house and then moving on to the girls in the neighboring rentals. April sighed and trudged over, lugging the bucket of clams. At least he’d distract her from thinking about Curt.

  Owen sat on the sand, a beer in his hand, and stared at the ocean. The waves weren’t as high as they’d been earlier in the day, but they were still impressive, rearing up as they got close to shore and breaking with a roaring crash that sent white foam billowing into the air. There was something both awesome and soothing about the power of the surf as it crashed into the sand.

  “Hey,” someone said. He turned and found the girl in black standing by the wood that he’d collected for the fire. A bucket sat on the sand near her feet.

  “What’s up?” Owen said.

  “Where’s the fire?” she asked.

  “Couldn’t get it started. Turns out I’m no Boy Scout.” It was meant to sound funny or flippant but came out self-critical. He sighed and took a gulp of the beer. Why was he always so critical of himself? How come I can’t even start a lousy fire? Lots of guys’ dads teach them that kind of stuff. Why couldn’t mine?

  “What about Lucas?” she asked.

  Owen pointed out at a figure on a surfboard out in the waves. “Surfer boy? I don’t think he’s that interested in fire, just water.”

  He took another gulp of beer, aware that the girl was staring at the stacked wood. They’d never actually been formally introduced, but he sensed that she was a strange chick, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the dark makeup and black clothes. Definitely not like the party types he usually hung with.

  The next thing he knew, she kneeled down beside the pile of driftwood and began to arrange it. “Here, help me start the fire,” she said.

  “I don’t start fires with women unless I know their names first,” he said.

  “April,” she said. “And you’re Owen. Now how about a little help. There’s not going to be a clambake without a fire.”

  Her tone of voice was about as unfriendly as you could be while remain
ing civil.

  And, just like that, the quiet, contemplative Owen was gone and he was back to his usual, competitive, sex-driven self. The more a female resisted, the more he perceived her as a challenge. He stood up and took a piece of wood from her, intentionally brushing her fingers with his own.

  “Hey, forget the stupid fire. Why don’t we go have some fun?” he asked.

  “Fun?” April repeated with a smirk. “We’ve barely been here twenty-four hours and you’ve already been on top of one girl in the house. I think you’ve met your quota.”

  “Not from where I’m standing,” he said, hating himself for saying it. But at the same time, unable to stop himself.

  “Grow up.” She shoved a stick at him and it banged against his fingers. He bit his lip to keep from swearing.

  “Okay, just what are we trying to do here?” he asked.

  “With the fire, or are you determined to be an ass?” April asked.

  Owen found himself grinning. “I like a girl with spunk.”

  “You don’t quit, do you?” April shot back.

  “No, I mean it.” Owen raised his hands. “This is hands off. If you insist, I promise I won’t put the moves on you for the whole summer. But I still like your attitude.”

  She gazed at him and just for a moment he thought he saw the slightest smile pass across her lips. As if she believed him.

  “Fine,” she said. “Here’s some more of my attitude. Stand the wood up. We want to shape it like a pyramid. Put the smaller stuff in the center of the base.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Owen replied, jesting. “So, uh, how did you learn to do this?”

  “My dad used to take me camping,” she said.

  “Lucky you,” he said.

  She frowned at him, probably thinking he was mocking her. “Yeah, matter of fact I was pretty lucky.”

  For a moment he was tempted to explain that he wasn’t making fun. He was serious, and envious of anyone who’d managed to have a normal relationship with his or her father. But what was the point? Why would she care about his past? So instead, he helped her pile the firewood.

  When they had finished, she straightened up. “You got matches?”

  “You mean you’re not going to rub two sticks together?” he kidded her.

  She held out her hand, palm up.

  He pulled some matches out of his pocket. “Can I do it?” he asked.

  “Light the small stuff in the center,” she said.

  He struck a match and touched it to the end of one of the twigs. But before the kindling caught on fire, an ocean breeze snuffed out the flame. He dropped the match and lit another one. It went out as well. So typical I can’t do anything right.

  “Shield the flame with your hands,” April said over his shoulder.

  He did as she told him and was gratified to see the small flame lick at the wood before taking hold. A thin column of white smoke began to rise, growing thicker as the flames rose and crackled. Owen backed away, and they stood together watching the flames rise. It was kind of nice, sharing this moment with a girl and not feeling the need to try to hook up with her.

  Avery and Polly were coming down to the beach with bread, salad, and drinks when the fire went up with a roar. April and Owen were standing near it. Avery found herself wondering where Lucas was.

  “Good fire,” she said, putting the food down and looking around.

  “If you’re looking for surfer boy, he’s out in the waves,” Owen said as if he’d read her mind. “But that’s okay. Turns out nature girl and I didn’t need his help.”

  Avery’s first impulse was to protest that she hadn’t been looking for Lucas. But that wasn’t true, and she knew that protesting would only draw more attention to the issue. As the others started to steam the clams and spread out the blankets, she turned and stared out at the waves. She could see a surfer close by, but with the sun going down and the light fading, she couldn’t tell if it was Lucas. Whoever it was, he looked good, zigzagging across the faces of the waves.

  “What you looking at, Ave?”

  The sound of Curt’s voice caught her by surprise. She jumped when he placed a hand around her waist. She thought he was still rehearsing with his band.

  “The ocean,” she said, a little too quickly, but if Curt noticed, he didn’t show it. Avery turned and glanced at the others. Owen was sitting on a blanket, drinking a beer. Avery could see that out of the corner of his eye he was watching Sabrina, on the other side of the fire. Polly was checking on the clams, and April had finished spreading out the other food and had grabbed a wine cooler for herself.

  “So how was rehearsal?” Avery asked Curt.

  “Didn’t get as much practice time as I wanted,” he said, the frustration in his voice palpable. “It’s hard to keep the guys focused. They still have that summer vacation mentality. To them, every day’s a party day.”

  “That’s too bad,” Avery said.

  “I’ll try again later. Right now it’s just good to be here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

  Avery felt herself stiffen involuntarily. What’s that about? she wondered as she forced herself to relax. She should have been happy. Here they were at the beach and she was in Curt’s arms. This is what we came here for, she thought.

  “How about a walk before dinner?” he suggested.

  That sounded great. “Hey, Polly?” Avery called.

  Polly looked up.

  “How long until the clams are ready?” Avery asked.

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  “Curt and I are going to take a walk.”

  “Have fun,” Polly said.

  She grabbed a wine cooler and they strolled down the beach hand-in-hand as the orange sun slipped below the horizon and the sky began to fade to dark. As they got closer to the boardwalk there were so many twinkling lights in every color imaginable that a person could spend hours counting them. Curt took her in his arms and pressed his lips against hers. As they kissed, the sounds of laughter and screams and whirring machinery reached their ears.

  “Let’s go on some rides tomorrow, okay?” she asked.

  “Uh, okay, if that’s what you want, sure,” he said, sounding less than excited.

  Suddenly she remembered her conversation with Polly earlier that day. “Oh, wait, I can’t. I’m going with Polly to see if I can get a job waitressing.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Curt suddenly brightened. “That’s great. Really good.”

  Avery couldn’t help noticing that news of her possible job excited him far more than spending time with her tomorrow.

  “But we’ll still go on the rides, right?” she asked. “Maybe even tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s see how it goes.” The answer was definitely noncommittal.

  Avery decided not to push it. Besides, she could smell hot dogs and funnel cake coming from the boardwalk, and her stomach growled. “We should probably head back,” she said.

  They walked back slowly, the sounds of laughter fading in the background. Beside the fire Polly was putting clams out on plates. It was almost dark by now, and Avery and Curt sat on one of the blankets. Avery loaded up her plate with salad. Lucas trotted up with his dripping surfboard, his hair sticking to his head and his wet suit glimmering with seawater.

  “Thanks for all your help with the fire, buddy,” Owen said sarcastically.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Lucas said. “The waves were just too good to resist.” He grabbed a piece of bread and took a bite. “Hey, this is great,” he said. “Tastes homemade.”

  “That’s ’cause it is,” April answered.

  “I made the salad,” Sabrina piped up, clearly eager to receive her share of the attention.

  “Wow, that’s amazing. How did you do that?” Owen asked with a straight face.

  Sabrina gave him a dirty look but didn’t say anything.

  Avery surveyed the group, their faces aglow in the light of the flickering fire. Everyone seemed fairly
happy, everyone except Polly, whose expression went beyond happiness to ecstasy, as if this clambake was a dream come true. Their eyes met, and Polly grinned.

  “This is so great!” she squealed. “We’re all together and the food is great and the beach is great and the fire is just . . . just . . .”

  “Great?” Curt asked, a bit snidely.

  “Yes!” Polly said.

  “Yeah, it really worked out,” Avery said, wishing Curt hadn’t felt the need to be so mean.

  “It’s pretty nice,” April agreed, and the others nodded.

  “Reminds me of clambakes we had at my grandparents’ place in Maine when I was little,” Sabrina said. “Of course we didn’t have to do any of the work, but the food tastes almost as good.”

  Avery figured that in Sabrina’s haughty way, that was supposed to be a compliment. April twisted around to look at Sabrina.

  “How did someone like you end up renting a place with us?” she asked. “Doesn’t your family, like, own a small country or something?”

  Avery sucked in her breath, shocked by April’s bluntness. Sabrina seemed not to mind the question, though.

  “We’ve always summered in Europe, but this year they decided it was time for me to go solo,” Sabrina answered. “They said I had to ‘learn about real life’ and all that crap. So, here I am, and starting tomorrow I’ll be working as a nanny for a couple of brats to pay my way.”

  “Sounds like torture,” Owen quipped.

  Sabrina wrinkled her nose and made a face at him.

  Avery tensed, worried that an argument was about to break out.

  “Hey, everyone,” someone said, strolling up out of the dark. He was wearing black-rimmed glasses and plaid shorts.

  “Oh hi, Fred!” Polly was the first to recognize and greet him.

  In the firelight Sabrina rolled her eyes and Curt muttered something under his breath. Obviously some of them weren’t happy to see the landlord; Avery found herself feeling a little sorry for him. Just because he was nerdy, they didn’t have to be mean.

  “So what brings you out on this balmy night?” Owen asked.

  “Just wanted to check up on the house,” Fred replied. Was it Avery’s imagination, or was he gazing longingly at the food. “Bathroom all fixed? Everything okay?”