Swim That Rock (9 page)

“Thanks.”

Stuffing the twenties back in my pocket, I practically jog out of there. I’m down the hall, into the elevator, and back in the lobby before I take a breath.

I rush into the men’s room on the ground floor and splash my face with cold water. With both hands on the sink, I stare at the mirror, and the face staring back hardly even looks like me. My hair is bleached and wiry from the salt and sun, and there are puffy bags under my eyes. My chin and lips look almost like my dad’s, except without any stubble. I stare at my mouth, and it seems like my dad is staring back at me.

“Is this part of the test?” I say to the reflection. I can feel the anger buzzing inside of me like a swarm of bees. “Did you let Gene get hurt? Was it because he was going to help me? Was that too easy? Why don’t you just come home!” I want to shatter the mirror, but just then a doctor walks in and gives me the once-over, so I grab some paper towels, dry my face, and split.

By the time I get on the bus home, I’m ready to crawl under a rock and die. I shove my hand deep into my pocket, past the twenties, and feel the knife. I take it out and turn it over in my hand. The pearl skull shimmers in the sunlight coming through the bus window. My finger traces the initials on the back. I look up and notice this old lady staring at me over her knitting. She’s probably thinking I’m going to hold up the bus with this jackknife, or carve my initials in the paneling of the back of the seat. I don’t want to freak her out, so I just force a smile and slip the knife back in my pocket and stare out the window.

I can’t catch a break.

“Start bailing, Jake!” Gene barks.

Furiously I heave gallons of seawater out the window, but the bucket keeps getting smaller as the water continues to rise. That’s when I realize I’m not in a boat at all. I’m standing in the Riptide Diner, knee-deep in water. Out the window through the fog, I see the outline of Prudence Island. I can’t stop bailing. The diner is rocking and shifting with the waves. Plates and glasses shatter as they hit the stainless-steel countertop.

“We may be going down!” Gene screams into the howling wind as he pulls on the aluminum pole that shoots out the window into the black water. His rain gear is soaked with spray, and his hair is matted against his head. He has a crazy serious look in his eyes.

I drop the bucket, and it floats over to the stools by the counter and rocks between them like a pinball, and then sinks. My mom is behind the counter. She reminds me of a movie star, with her red hair tied in a bun with a small flower pinned to her blouse. She’s humming while she wipes the counter, setting out silverware as if none of this is happening. The forks and knives shift with the roll of the waves and fall into the water at her feet, and she continues to hum and smile as she puts down new silverware in its place. I start to wade over to her when I hear Gene call me.

“Ready up!”

Instinctively I slosh over to his side and start pulling the long pole up through the window.

“The diner is sinking, Gene. Why are we still quahogging?”

“’Cause that’s what we do, Jake. . . . That’s just what we do.” He grunts as we rhythmically pull the pole up hand over hand. It’s heavier than I remember, and Gene’s knuckles are white with strain. As the last bit of pole comes up out of the blackness, I anticipate the bullrake filled with quahogs. The water starts to boil, churning to white foam.

Lightning flashes! The water explodes, and a giant shark propels itself, teeth first, into the window.

I shoot up out of bed. My sheets are soaked with sweat. I look out the window and see that the Riptide Diner is still on dry land. No shark either. My clock radio starts beeping. Or maybe it was beeping the whole time? Nope, it reads 5:30 a.m. I slap my hand down on the large brown button, stopping the noise, and grab my jeans off the floor. I try to replay the dream in my head, but already it’s dissolving into nothingness. I pull on my high-tops and sniff a few different shirts lying around the floor.

By the time I get downstairs, I’m still feeling messed up and out of sorts as I prepare the diner for the day. I try to count tiles, or count the silverware, or count anything, but by the time I reach seven or eight, my mind spins out again. I have two weeks left to come up with a little more than nine thousand dollars, and I have no idea how I’m gonna do it without Gene. I could go and work for one of the other quahoggers, like he said, but still I’m not going to make the kind of money I need.

“How’s Gene?” Robin asks as she hurries from table to table, laying out ketchup bottles and pink packets of sweetener. “I heard what happened. You’re a hero, you know.”

“He’s good. Should be out in another couple of days.” I smile weakly, because I know the real hero was Captain.
He
saved Gene. I mean, I bandaged him up all right, and kept him warm with my body, and did all that other stuff to help stop the bleeding, but if it wasn’t for Captain, Gene would have bled to death right there on the deck of the Hawkline.

“Darcy and I will get the rest,” Robin says, taking the tray of silverware from my hands. “Go have some fun.” I look over at Darcy and she gives me a thumbs-up.

“We got it, Stretch. Take the day off.”

“Thanks,” I say, and head upstairs to my room.

When I am back upstairs, two things smash into my brain at the same time.

Captain saved Gene’s life. Captain can save me.

That’s it. Who else ever gave me three hundred dollars after less than an hour’s worth of work? Plus, he knows something about my dad. He has to.
What about the knife?

I decide to go find Captain again.

I take my bike down to Charon’s Dock to see if his boat is still moored there, but it’s not and I continue searching.

An hour later I’m walking through the door into Muldoon’s Bar. It’s only ten thirty in the morning, so I am not really expecting him to be here, but you never know with a guy like him. The bar looks different with all the lights on, less scary in a way. The stools are empty. Most of them are cracked and worn thin at the seams, while some are held together with duct tape.

“We’re not open till eleven,” a voice calls out from below the bar.

“No, I was . . . I was just looking for somebody,” I answer, and head back through the door.

“Wait a minute, kid.” I turn around and the bartender gives me a long look. “You Jake?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, a little surprised.

“Yeah, I can tell, real tall kid, he said. I got something for you.” The bartender is looking between all the liquor bottles on the shelf. “I know I put it somewhere. Aha! Here it is.”

“Thanks,” I say, confused as he hands me a tightly folded piece of paper.

“Yeah, guy said if you’d come here lookin’ for him, I was supposed to give you that. Gave me twenty bucks too. He your dad or something?”

“No! But thanks . . . for this.” I hold up the folded paper and head back out onto the street. I find a bench and open the note.

There’s no name, but I can tell from the handwriting it’s Captain. My heart skips a beat because I know I’ll probably make some quick cash, but I might get killed. Captain is not what you’d call a safety-first type of guy. I could also end up in jail. But at this point I don’t know what’s worse: jail or Arizona.

What will my dad think of this? I don’t think he wants me working for a guy like Captain, but he should have thought of that before he went missing, leaving us in debt to some stupid loan sharks!

I crumple the paper, stuff it in my pocket, and head down to the water, spending the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon just walking around by the docks near the marina, thinking about Gene, my dad, the beach opening, and Captain’s note. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong, what is a dream and what is real.
I wish Tommy were back.

Around four thirty, when I get back to the diner, Darcy is cleaning. I can see her working as I look through the front windows. She moves fast, wiping everything down before placing it back on the table. She’s got her headphones on, and she’s sort of dancing between the tables. I stand there watching her for a few minutes, until she notices me. She throws her rag down and tromps over to the window and removes her headphones.

“I’m sorry,
sir,
we’re closed. You’ll have to come back in the morning,” she says through the glass. I just smile and walk around to the back door and head inside. I shuffle into the dining room, plopping down in the first booth with a loud groan.

“All right, what’s going on?” Darcy puts down a tray of salt- and pepper shakers, throws the rag over her shoulder, and slides in next to me. I scoot over to give her some room, but not much, and our thighs are touching just slightly. Her leg feels warm.

“Nah, I don’t want to talk about it.” It sounds pretty weak, probably because I
do
want to talk about it. Darcy can tell.

“Come on, Jake,” Darcy says, looking around. “You got to let it out or your brain’s going to pop like that guy — what’s his name? — Ben.”

“Ben Dunn.” I laugh.

“Yeah, God knows we don’t need another Ben Dunn around here, so tell me what’s going on. Is your mom still talking about giving up the diner?”

“She hasn’t said anything lately, but I’ve been avoiding it with her anyway. Here’s the thing . . . we owe a lot of money to these guys, and if we don’t pay them by the end of the month, they are going to take the diner.”

“Oh, my God. I didn’t know that. How much do you owe, and to who?”

“Ten grand. To the Mafia . . . I mean, you know, those guys down at the Italian Club.”

Darcy’s eyes go wide. “That must be why she started in on you about moving to your grandmother’s.”

“Yeah, I figured out that much. Gene was going to help me. We were going to make the money to pay it off, and with Barrington Beach opening . . . but now that’s pretty screwed. I feel like all this stuff’s happening to mess me up, like it’s all a big test.”

“You mean like fate?” Darcy asks.

“I don’t know. Yeah, fate, I guess. Like Gene getting hurt just before the beach opens. I mean, why now?”

“Well, sometimes I believe in fate, but only when it makes sense or works out for me. Like the time I went to the movie theater, and that creepy guy followed me to the parking lot, and then, just
then,
my big brother shows up and chases the guy away.
That
was fate. And when I walked in to get some toast, and your mom said she was looking for waitresses, and she hired me right on the spot. That was total fate, because now I have tons of friends and Robin and Trax and Tommy and you. And I feel normal again.”

“Well, this fate thing isn’t working out too good for me right now.” I start playing with the saltshakers, because I’m feeling awkward and I don’t know what to do with my hands.

“Well, maybe it’s just bad luck,” Darcy says, eyeing the saltshakers that I keep knocking over. “We just have to work on changing your luck.” I’m running my fingers through the salt, creating little pathways across the tray.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Darcy puts her hand on mine. I can’t tell if she did it to stop my nervous twitching, or if she wants to hold my hand.

Maybe both.

I’m frozen stiff. I can’t move my hand, and I don’t want to. I force my hand to relax, and her slender hand softens and settles onto mine.

I can feel my ears turning red. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because I’m happy. No one’s saying anything; we’re just sitting together in the booth. I’m not looking at her, just staring out the front windows, and when my eyes drift down, I can see our reflection. Darcy’s looking too. She notices and smiles at me. It’s hard to see, but her eyes sparkle. I am afraid to look at her even though she’s only a foot away, and it feels like there is a fire burning between our hands.

In the glass, I see Robin walking in from the kitchen, carrying aprons. I pull my hand away quickly.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. I didn’t know you guys were in here . . .
together.
” Robin pretends to hide behind the aprons.

Darcy gets up and immediately starts cleaning the backs of the chairs at the next table. “We weren’t together.”

“She’s right. We weren’t together.” I scramble out of the booth, knocking all the saltshakers to the floor. I don’t know why I’m saying this because we
were
together for a minute or two, and besides, I like Darcy.

Now there it is.

I said it to myself and I keep saying it in my head.
I like Darcy.

“I am glad you’re not together. I’ve been waiting for you to
not
be together all summer.” Robin piles the aprons into the hamper near the kitchen and disappears through the double doors. I look over at Darcy, and we both start laughing out loud just as my mom comes in and wrecks it all.