Rites of Spring (28 page)

Darren did not reappear for breakfast, which meant more French toast for the rest of us (except for Odile, who flatly refused to eat carbs). I kept an eye out for him throughout the meal, as the others filled Odile in on the events she’d missed, but the kid never appeared. And as for the other boy of interest on the island, he’d taken a seat with Malcolm and the Myers, and I actually heard him laughing a good half a dozen times during the meal, a sound so unusual that I was surprised everyone in the room wasn’t commenting on it.

Another major topic of conversation was the Gehrys, and what could be wrong with the matriarch of the family. All sorts of theories floated around the breakfast table, but our combined lack of medical knowledge kept us from coming to any firm conclusions.
^*8

“She’s definitely self-medicating, though,” Clarissa said. “Maybe she just can’t deal with the loss of status.”

“Being stuck on the island all the time with two kids?” Kevin said. “I’d want to get blitzed every once in a while as well.”

“I doubt she’s just upped the martini intake,” Demetria said. “She didn’t even realize her husband had taken her daughter.” Demetria had grown entirely more subdued since meeting Mrs. Gehry face-to-face. As her work at the Eli Women’s Center gave her a vast store of knowledge about various illegal, mood-altering substances, she had spent the meal telling us horror stories about date-rape drugs. “I just hope that whatever it is she’s using, she’s got a doctor’s note.”

In addition, Odile was fascinated by my little accident on the way over to the island, and quizzed me far more than I liked about what it “felt like” to almost drown.

“But I’m an actress! A student of human nature!” she protested when Jenny told her to cut it out.

“You’re a macabre son of a bitch,” Demetria said with a smile.

Odile’s lips scrunched into a pout. “Fine. If Amy won’t tell me, I’ll have to get someone to hold me under so I can feel it for myself.”

“Since when are you even remotely Method?” Kevin asked, but Odile changed the subject.

“And what about these nutballs on the other island?” she asked. “Did they really trash our cabin?”

“Oh, yeah,” Clarissa grumbled. “Wait until you see it. I hope you haven’t brought anything valuable.”

Odile shook her head. “That’s awful. We can’t let them get away with it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” said Jenny.

“And what I’ve been saying is that it’s not
them,
” Demetria cut in. “But try convincing Clarissa of that.”

“Either way,” Clarissa said quickly, “they did trespass on our island, and they are camped out over there, spying on us. We shouldn’t put up with it.”

“Why not?” Demetria said. “We’re putting up with a lot of shit around here.” She cast an evil glance in the direction of Kadie Myer, who was carrying her plate to the kitchen. Breakfast was ending and the tables had started to clear. I was torn between arranging another rendezvous with Poe and continuing the conversation with the rest of my club. But when I checked the table where he’d been sitting, he had also disappeared.

“So, Jennifer,” said George, “on that most charitable topic of revenge…what would you suggest?”

Jenny considered it for a moment. “I’m not sure. I don’t think we have the resources for our usual pranks.”

“I think you’d be surprised what Diggers have managed to pull off on this island in the past.”

“Oh?” said Kevin. “Any stories to share?”

George shrugged and swept his last bite of French toast through the puddle of syrup on his plate. “I might have done a bit of sneaking around as a kid, watched a couple ceremonies I shouldn’t have.”

Poe’s words from before came back to me. “I think it’s pretty common for the members to put on a little skit for the benefit of whoever might be watching from the other island,” I said.

They all turned to me, surprise etched across their features.

“Since when do you know so much about what Diggers usually do on this island?” Clarissa asked.

“I did some poking around in the rec room the day you all went out on the boat with the Myers,” I lied smoothly. “There’s photo albums and everything.” At least, Darren had told us as much. He said he’d been looking through our old records.

“Amy’s right.” George to the rescue. “I saw the skits in real life. They were awesome. I bet Salt has the costumes hidden somewhere.”

“A skit?” Ben asked, his tone skeptical. “A skit is how we’re going to pay those dudes back for trashing the cabin?”

“I agree,” said Clarissa. “Won’t it just rile them up even more? Make them more eager to get over here and see what we’re up to?”

“And then we can really rumble!” said Odile. “I love it.”

Demetria rested her face in her hands and sighed in frustration, but everyone else seemed to warm to the idea. They were in the midst of discussing plotlines when Poe and Malcolm came back, dressed in beachwear and holding towels.

“Jamie!” Odile called, hopping up and rushing over to my new favorite patriarch. “I’m glad you’re here.” She was? Since when were they such good friends? “We’re going to put on a skit for the PCTs
^*9
on the other island. Want to play?”

Poe smiled. “Depends what you’re planning. I was always partial to the story of Perseus and Andromeda myself.”

“You would be,” Demetria grumbled, beside me.

True. It was a tad on the damsel-in-distress side. And all the good parts belonged to men.

Odile’s eyes lit up. “Are you saying we have a sea monster costume?”

“A little raggedy by now, but yes.”

Odile squealed and threw her arms around him. “Awesome! You have to help.”

I bit my lip, and looked away, so I didn’t see when the embrace ended.

“Come on,” Odile wheedled. “We had so much fun with the straggler initiation. Remember?”

Oh, right. Well, at least there was one Diggirl who wasn’t completely disgusted by Poe. (I mean two.
Two.
)

“Sorry. I’m going on the yacht with the Myers today,” he said. “We’re leaving right now, as a matter of fact.”

My head shot up. Right now? What about our swimming lesson? I watched, stricken, as Poe directed Odile and the other drama enthusiasts to Cavador Key’s store of costumes and props, and tried to catch his eye, to no avail. He and Malcolm finished their instructions and waved good-bye to the group, and I followed them out onto the porch.

“Hey,” I called as the boys took the stairs to the lawn. Poe turned and squinted up at me through the sunlight.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?” Poe waved Malcolm on and returned to me. I leaned over the railing and lowered my voice. “You’re leaving?”

Recognition dawned. “You have a better offer?”

Than hanging out on a boat with people like the Myers? I damn well hope so. “I thought we could…” Oh, dear, did I sound clingy, or what? “Go swimming. Again.”

“Tempting,” he said. “But, uh…I really think I need to do some damage control today. We can’t burn every bridge around here, Amy, much as you’d like to.”

“Only the ones that lead to bad places,” I replied. “Don’t try to sell me the ‘for the good of Rose & Grave’ party line if your sacrifice involves spending the day on a yacht.”

“Apparently, that’s not the only sacrifice I’m making.” He smiled at me, but I wasn’t in the mood.

“And what about Malcolm? How can he bring himself to—”

“Unlike some of us, he doesn’t believe in throwing the baby out with the bathwater,” Poe said. “Besides, he’s old hat at dealing with people like that, remember? No one is perfectly good or perfectly evil.”

“That’s a concept with which I’m becoming increasingly familiar.” I rocked back on my heels in dismay. Great, I played my hand and Poe trumped it with
society duty
.

He glanced over his shoulder at Malcolm’s retreating form. “Tell you what, come with us.”

I blinked at him. Had he lost IQ points during the night?

R
EASONS
T
HAT’S
A D
EFINITIVE “
N
O.”

1)
Go with him.
On a boat.
Yeah, right.

2)
Go with him on a boat that happened to belong to Kadie Myer, for whom I had no warm feelings whatsoever, and toward whom several of my closest friends held nothing but contempt.

3)
Kadie Myer, whose fingernails were probably still a tad orange from her last painting project.

4)
Ditch my club and go off very publicly with Poe?
Was I asking for it?

Poe must have at least guessed the gist of number four, because he added, “Think of it this way: Malcolm’s coming. You’ve hardly spent any time with him.”

“Does Malcolm—”

“No.” Poe hesitated. “Do any of yours?”

“No.” Except for George, but I hadn’t been the one to tell him.

“Good.” Poe checked over his shoulder again. “So, want to come?”

I shook my head. “On a boat? No way.”

“You were on a boat the other night.”

“Yeah, docked and not moving. Besides,” I added, “three’s a crowd. You never get to spend time with Malcolm, either.”

“True. But I want…” He trailed off. “Fine. Go make costumes with the kids, Amy. You’ll have more fun.”

“‘With the kids’? Don’t be mean.”

“I was aiming for cute.”

“It doesn’t become you.”

“Not half so much as mean,” he agreed, and when I didn’t deny it, he added, “So it’s either I leave Malcolm alone in the company of a bigot and her husband, or I stand you up. Neither choice sounds palatable.”

“At least you admit she’s a bigot.”

“Frank’s a nice guy. Pity about the wife. I didn’t like her at Eli, and I don’t like her now. My only hope is that they’ll be divorced before they hit that fifty-year mark, when we have to make her an associate patriarch.”

“A what?” I cried.

“You didn’t know? When they hit their golden anniversary, we give the spouse a guest pass. We even have a little ceremony.” He grinned. “There’s one argument for keeping it in Rose & Grave, huh?”

I wasn’t rising to his bait. “Or killing her off before she’s seventy-five.”

“Amy!” Odile called from inside the building. “Will you be the back end of the sea monster? It’s not a speaking part.”

“Obviously,” Poe said with a smirk.

“Sea monster seems to denote
sea,
doesn’t it?” I whispered to him. “Over my dead body,” I replied loud enough for Odile to hear. Turning back to Poe, I said, “Go ahead. I’ve got an activity director to deal with now.”

“Slave driver, more like.” Poe’s smile didn’t dim, and I felt another pang of jealousy. “By the time I get back she’ll probably have Industrial Light & Magic on its way.”

“Salt would never allow such a thing,” I argued.

“True.” He stood there for a second or so longer—not moving toward me, not touching me, and certainly not
kissing
me, but possibly thinking about all three—then took off.

I headed back into the library, where I was promptly conscripted into a debate about whether or not Clarissa should play Andromeda. Odile’s argument was that, in a white dress, her blond hair and pale skin would sell “virgin sacrifice” across the channel like nothing else. Demetria’s stance was that the whole idea of femininity being tied to “whiteness” was a racist position, and that Jenny was not only the most virginal member of the group, but also had the most authentic coloring when it came to portraying a Greek princess. Clarissa said whatever the club decided was okay with her, and Jenny said like hell were they chaining her to a rock, even if it was a fake chain on a fake rock.

“At the risk of having my balls torn off by Demetria,” George said, “I vote for Clarissa, white chick or no.”

“Yeah,” Harun said. “Just because she will be easier to see across the water. Her hair practically glows.”

Clarissa glared. Jenny beamed.

“I actually vote for
Demetria,
” said Ben. “Sorry, Clarissa. But I see her point, and I think it would be awesome to have a black Andromeda. Very in-your-face, pre-Raphaelites.”

Demetria shook her head. “Hell no. I’m playing the sea monster. I don’t do damsels.”

“Yeah, you do,” said George.

Around this time, Kevin suggested he play Andromeda, because he was the smallest member of the club, except for Odile, who had already claimed the part of Queen Cassiopeia, and I decided that, lest I found my ass chained to a rock, I’d volunteer to play the back end of the sea monster after all.

The rest of the morning was spent in scripting and rehearsals. Under protest, Clarissa took the part of the princess, with Ben (the tallest) as Poseidon, Kevin as Perseus, George as the king, and Harun and Jenny as courtiers. Demetria deigned to point out that, with the exception of Kevin, all knights of color were given non-speaking parts, and wasn’t that interesting. Odile deigned to respond that the lack of speaking made Demetria’s part no smaller in scope, and besides, the intended audience would never be able to hear them from across the water anyway.
^*10

By noon, I’d found myself employed with basting together a scaly tail from the box of vaguely mildewed costumes we’d found in the attic of the main house. The entire sea monster looked, at first glance, like a miniature version of the kind of dragons they have in Chinese New Year parades. Pretty cool, actually. Why don’t we have one of these in the tomb at Eli?

A shadow fell over my work. “What are you doing?”

I glanced up. Darren Gehry, holding a box of Popsicles, was staring down at us.

“Begone, barbarian,” Demetria muttered into her headdress.

“Are those Popsicles?” George asked, jumping up and taking the box from Darren’s hands. “C’mere, man, and help me with this Gorgon head.”