The Shore (15 page)

“A guy got rough with Polly,” Sabrina said.

“Where?” Lucas asked.

“In her room,” Avery answered.

“What was he doing in her . . . ?” Lucas trailed off. Avery could see that he'd just noticed Owen passed out on the floor. “Not Owen.”

“No, someone else,” Sabrina said. “You should have seen it. April kicked his butt out of here.”

Lucas's eyes went wide with concern. “You okay, Polly?” he asked, compassion in his voice.

Polly nodded, but didn't say anything. Avery found herself wishing that Curt could have shown compassion or courage or
anything rather than just sit there.
Owen wanted to help. Everyone did. Everyone except Curt.
She still couldn't bring herself to look at her boyfriend. Her eyes drifted instead to Tara, and the knots in her stomach tightened.
You have to stop comparing Lucas to Curt. This is so not good.
Her head began to throb even harder.

Six

Avery stood at the water's edge, staring out at the ocean as the waves lapped at her toes. She wore a red-and-white batik sarong around her hips covering the bottom half of her sky blue French-cut bikini. It was the fourteenth of July, almost a week since Polly had been pawed by that jerky guy.

The wind whipped her hair into her eyes, but Avery didn't care. She was too wrapped up in thoughts to notice wind and sand and surf. She had made her way to the beach just as the sun was rising, shooting brilliant hues of orange and scarlet across the dark sky.

Now as she stared across the crashing waves she was watching an internal slide show, trying to remember moments with her mother. How she had looked when she was still alive, trying to forget how she had looked lying in her coffin. Tears began to slide down her cheeks.

“You okay?” a quiet voice asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned her head toward the speaker without bothering
to wipe away her tears. It was Lucas in his wet suit, the morning sun glinting off the red surfboard under his arm.

She shook her head.

He put the surfboard down. “What's wrong?”

“Everything,” she croaked. It wasn't like her to be so honest about feeling bad. Normally she would have forced a smile and told him nothing was wrong, and that she was perfectly fine. She wasn't sure if it was the concern in his eyes, or the roar of the ocean or the depth of her emotion that made her blurt out the truth, but she was relieved that she had.

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I've got time,” he said quietly.

She nearly began to sob at that, but held herself back. Curt never seemed to have the time. She wanted to talk, not just cry incoherently. “I'm still upset about what happened to Polly,” she said for starters. It wasn't what was bothering her the most, but it seemed like a safe place to start.

“So am I,” Lucas said. “I wish I'd been there earlier. Maybe I could have done something to stop it.”

Avery nodded. She tried to stop what she said next, but it came pouring out of her in a rush. “I can't believe that Curt just sat there and did nothing. Why? I mean, how could he just sit there?”

Lucas looked grim. “I don't know. Maybe he wasn't sure what to do. Maybe he just couldn't deal.”

Could that really be what happened?
she wondered. It seemed
hard to believe, but Lucas looked so earnest, and being a guy, he would have better insight into the male psyche than she did. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. Still, a thought troubled her. “You wouldn't have let fear or some kind of crazy denial stop you from doing something, would you?” she asked.

His jaw set, and she saw a fierce look in his eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “But that's me.”

“That's you,” she said. Curt had always seemed strong to her, but she was beginning to think that a lot of it was bluff and bravado. Looking at Lucas, she saw a different kind of strength. Lucas would never pick a fight or need to prove anything. He would most certainly end a fight, though, if he was in one.

She took a step backward and tried to control her breathing, which suddenly seemed out of control. She turned and stared out to the ocean. The early morning air was crisp and clear, and she could see all the way to the clear blue horizon.

“What is it?” Lucas asked gently.

Avery felt it rush out of her. “Today's the anniversary of my mom's death.”

The next thing she knew, he reached out and pulled her to him with strong arms. She clung to him for a moment, allowing the grief to wash over her before finally moving away.

“Thanks. It's just hard, you know? I couldn't sleep and so I got up early to come out here to try to remember her.”

“She must have been a wonderful woman to have raised a daughter like you,” Lucas said.

“I'm not so sure,” Avery protested.

“Come on,” he said. “You survived something most people couldn't and managed to keep your sense of humor and decency.”

“Thanks,” she said, comforted by his words. “Every year I feel her slipping farther away from me. I'm even starting to have trouble remembering what she looked like.”

Lucas put his arm around her and rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and tried again to fix her mother's face in her mind.

“You know what I do remember, though?” she asked, smiling through the pain. “My mom was crazy about anything French. My grandfather was, like, a quarter French and so she just grabbed on to that. It was the closest thing to an ethnic identity that she had.”

The memory made Avery feel warm inside, connected to her mom, somehow. “I guess it was kind of fitting she died on July fourteenth.”

“Bastille Day,” Lucas muttered. “That's why you're wearing the colors of the French flag.”

“Dumb, huh?”

“No, sweet.”

“So how did you know?” she asked.

“About?”

“Bastille Day.”

He grinned. “It's French Independence Day. Like our Fourth of July. Everyone knows about it.”

“No, they really don't. You're the first person I've met aside from my mother who knew,” Avery said.

He dropped his eyes. “I probably heard something about it on the Discovery Channel.”

Avery nodded. The sun began to warm her skin. It was going to be a beautiful day and she was at the beach and she should have been happy. If only Curt had been the type of person who came to the defense of women, and knew what Bastille Day was.

Polly felt desperate. She'd come to Wildwood to have a great summer and meet a guy, and all she'd managed to do on her own is get assaulted by some creep. She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. Forget about letting a guy in her bedroom again. She never wanted to get close to another guy for as long as she lived. Once again, she'd made a mess of things. It seemed to be the only thing in life she was really good at.

She sighed and flipped over onto her back on her beach blanket and spread some more sunscreen on her shoulders before closing her eyes. The sun felt good as it pounded down on her skin, but she knew how quickly it could become an enemy.
Just like the guy who hit me,
she thought. She shook her head angrily. She had done everything she could to get that jerk out of her mind, and kept trying to remind herself that not all guys were like that. But right now it felt like they were.

“Don't often see you this time of day,” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

She opened her eyes and squinted as Lucas sat down next to her on the sand, putting his board down gently. He pulled a bar of surf wax out of one of his pockets.

“It's my day off,” Polly said, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him.

“Nice,” he said.

She watched while he applied wax to his surfboard in long strokes. His muscles rippled under his tan skin. He always seemed like a nice guy, polite.
A guy like him wouldn't hurt a girl. He's so sweet, and I don't think he even smokes pot. I haven't seen that bong since the day we moved in. Maybe it really is art, or an image thing, or something.

She studied Lucas more closely, and then his surfboard. The nice thing was, she didn't have to worry about him hitting on her. Well, if she wasn't going to meet a guy that summer, maybe she could accomplish something else. “Is it hard to learn to surf?”

Lucas gave her a friendly smile. “Not really.”

“Would you give me a surfing lesson someday?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “It seems to be my calling lately. Two days ago I started teaching a couple of kids. If I can teach them, I can definitely teach you. What about right now?”

“Now?” Polly repeated uncertainly.

“Yeah, why not?” Lucas asked.

She could have come up with a million reasons. She'd just put on sunscreen. She wasn't wearing the right bathing suit. Didn't want to get her hair wet. But that was what she always did, wasn't it? So why not just go ahead?

“Okay, sure.”

“Hey guys, what's up?” Avery asked as she walked over wearing a light blue bikini.

“Lucas is going to teach me how to surf,” Polly said excitedly.

“Wow, that's awesome!” Avery said.

“I'll teach you, too, if you like,” Lucas offered.

Avery glanced at Polly. “You asked first.”

“Oh, it's okay,” Polly said. It wasn't like she was trying to seduce him or anything.

“That would be great, thanks,” Avery said.

“Well, all right, ladies,” Lucas said as he stood and picked up his board. “Follow me.”

Polly jumped up and followed him into the ocean with Avery right beside her. The water had a slight chill to it, but it wasn't enough to stop her. She kept her eyes on Lucas's tanned and muscled back and waded out behind him. Once they'd gone out a dozen yards, Lucas stopped and aimed the surfboard back toward shore. “Okay, who's first?” he asked.

“Am I going to get hurt?” Polly asked.

“You shouldn't,” he answered. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and then looked from her to Avery. “Come on, don't be shy. Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Avery spoke up, and Polly was relieved. This way, she could watch and see what Avery was doing first.

Lucas patted the board in front of him. “Hop on.”

Once Avery was lying on the board in front of him, Lucas put his hands on her waist to center her. Avery turned to look at him, and Polly noticed that her eyes were sparkling and her lips parted with excitement.

She's into Lucas,
Polly realized. She felt her spirits plunge. From the way Lucas was looking back at Avery, it was clear he was into her, too. Things were happening all around her. Relationships, attractions, romance, excitement. But somehow she could never be part of it.

Out loud, Polly said, “‘Water, water, every where, /And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, /Nor any drop to drink.'”

Lucas flashed her a smile. “‘The very deep did rot: O Christ! /That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs /Upon the slimy sea.'”

Polly felt her jaw grow slack, and it came to her with a sudden surety that she and all the others had underestimated him. Avery stared, puzzled, from her to Lucas. “What's that?” she finally asked.

“
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
,” Polly answered.

“And what's
that
?” Avery asked.

“An epic poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. It's about an old man who's cursed as a young sailor. He alone of all his shipmates
survives and he goes on to find redemption and to warn other people. He tells his story to a groom right before he's to get married,” Polly said, staring hard at Lucas.

“How do you know it?” Avery asked Lucas.

He leaned toward her and gestured for Polly to come close. Then he dropped his voice. “If I tell you, you have to swear to keep it a secret, okay?”

Both girls nodded eagerly.

“I . . . ,” Lucas began, “had to memorize it for English class.”

The girls grinned. “Very funny.” Polly smirked. She noticed that he was gazing over her shoulder. Turning, she saw a line of dark gray storm clouds on the horizon. Polly turned back to him.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Maybe I'm overgeneralizing here, but it seems to me that most people who walk around with a bong wouldn't be able to recite Coleridge.”

Lucas grinned sheepishly. Polly noticed that Avery was gazing at him intently, as if she, too, expected an answer.

“It wasn't mine,” he said. “It belongs to this guy who works at the surf shop. His parents were coming to visit for the weekend and he asked me if I'd hold on to it until they left. . . . And talk about leaving, that's what we ought to do.”

He pointed toward the horizon. Polly turned to look and saw that the line of dark clouds was larger now.
They're coming fast. We should get inside,
she thought. As if on cue, the wind picked up and the water grew choppy with whitecaps forming on the waves.

“Ladies, I fear we're going to have to continue this surf lesson another time,” Lucas said, as though reading her mind.

Polly waded toward shore, with Avery right behind her. The wind began to whip around her, and she grabbed her towel just as the wind began to lift it into the air. She snatched her bottle of sunscreen from the sand and began shivering as the wind felt like it was going right through her. Avery shouted, and Polly looked up just in time to see a beach umbrella tumbling toward her end-over-end. She jumped out of the way, and it blew down the beach, picking up speed.

“Back to the house!” Lucas shouted, the wind seeming to tear the words from his mouth. Flying sand stung their skin. Lucas was struggling to keep the surfboard from blowing out of his hands.

They had only taken half a dozen steps when the heavens let loose and cold rain poured down on them. Shrieking, they ran toward the house, half blinded and shivering.