The Shore (24 page)

“Well,” she said, “I guess the truth is, it’s been a pretty lousy summer.”

“You serious?” he asked, sounding surprised.

She wanted to lie, to tell him that it wasn’t true. She wanted to make him feel good, and should have kept her secrets to herself.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way,” she said. “It’s just . . . it wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.”

“Why?”

“I just wanted us to all be one big happy family. It didn’t work, did it? A happy family doesn’t steal from one another and abuse one another and sleep with one another and act like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Guess not.”

“I came here looking for the time of my life,” Polly went on, letting out all the pent-up frustrations of the summer. “I wanted to feel free, and all I felt was trapped. I wanted to make friends and meet a . . .” She let the words trail off, unfinished.

“Polly, I really think you’re too hard on yourself,” Fred said. “You’re a good person and you care about others. You’re also a lot of fun when you relax.”

He was being nice, but she wasn’t in the mood to be consoled. “You want to know what the worst part is?”

“What?”

“I’m still a virgin.”

Next to her, Fred was silent. Polly started to bite her lip. Why did she tell him that? Hadn’t she already suffered enough humiliations this summer? Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut for once?

“Well,” Fred said with a slight chuckle. “Guess that makes two of us. Think of it, Polly, we must be the only virgins on the whole Jersey Shore.”

She felt a smile grow on her face. Once again, he’d made her feel a little better. She turned to him. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “But you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think maybe people like you and me aren’t made for heavy-duty partying and one-night stands and summer flings,” Fred said. “Deep down, neither of us really wants that. We have our own way of having fun and we’re both looking for someone we can share that with.”

For the first time all summer she looked at him, really looked at him. He wasn’t a muscle-bound jock and didn’t have model looks, but he’d always been decent and real. Why hadn’t she taken him more seriously? Just because some of the others made fun of him, did she have to also?

“I’m sorry,” she said, regret filling her. “I wasn’t really very nice to you all summer.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a knowing smile. “I’m kind of used to that. All my life people have sort of passed me by without
taking a second look. But I’ve always kind of thought of myself as a diamond in the rough.”

She smiled back at him and slid her fingers through his. Somehow the summer didn’t seem all that bad after all.

“I know the summer’s ending, but you don’t live that far away,” he said. “Think maybe I could come pay a visit one of these days?”

“I’d like that,” she said, feeling warmth spread through her. She leaned on his shoulder and smiled. The sun was a little higher now, and she was just beginning to feel its warming rays.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m thinking,” Polly replied, “that maybe being a virgin isn’t so bad.”

Avery came down the stairs for the last time. She had come to Wildwood innocently looking for quality time with her boyfriend and now she was leaving older, wiser, and a different person. She hadn’t gotten the time with Curt she’d wanted, but now that didn’t seem to matter. The house was quiet. Everyone seemed to be feeling moody as they packed up and started saying their goodbyes.

Standing alone in the living room, her eyes strayed to Lucas’s door. She hadn’t seen him the night before or this morning. She was anxious to talk to him. There was so much she wanted to say.

She had left Curt’s stuff outside the room the night before. He must have come over late and gotten it because it
was gone when she got up. Unlike Lucas, she had nothing to say to him.

There was a knock on the front door. Avery opened it and found Darek, the drummer for STF.

“Hi,” Avery said, puzzled. She couldn’t imagine why he was there.

“Hey, Ave, is April around?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll go check.” Avery went up the stairs, knocked on April’s door, and told her. At first, April didn’t want to see him, but Avery urged her to at least hear what he had to say. Together, the girls came downstairs. When April saw Darek, she crossed her arms and pursed her lips with disapproval.

“Listen,” Darek said, “I just wanted you to know that what Curt did wasn’t right, and the rest of us in the band would never have gone along with it had we known he stole those songs.”

“Where’d you think they came from?” April asked.

“Curt told us he wrote them,” Darek said, then added sheepishly, “I guess we should have known better.”

“That’s for sure,” said Avery.

“Well, in a way it almost doesn’t matter now,” he said, his eyes darting to Avery. “As of last night the band’s officially broken up. It’s been coming for a while, but last night was like the straw that broke the camel’s back. I guess Bobby and Austin have had it with this rock thing. Bobby says he’s going to college, and Austin wants to get a steady job.”

“What about you?” April asked.

“I’m gonna stick with it,” Darek said. “Maybe hook up with a group that needs a drummer, or put one together myself. Actually. . .” He trailed off.

“Yes?” April asked.

“I was kind of wondering if maybe you wanted to do something. Like a kind of reverse White Stripes, where the girl’s the singer-guitarist-songwriter and the guy’s the drummer.”

April stared at him for a minute. “You serious?”

“Well yeah, totally.”

A smile grew on April’s face. “That’s a deal. You want to come upstairs for a second? I’ve got some songs I never showed Curt. I think they’re way better.”

“Great.” Darek followed her up the stairs.

Avery watched them go. It seemed like things had worked out for everyone. Owen and Sabrina had spent the night together, and she’d seen Fred and Polly holding hands on the beach earlier that morning. She was hoping it would work out for her, too. If only Lucas would come out of his room.

Summoning her courage, she knocked on Lucas’s door. There was no answer and after a moment she pushed the door open. The room was empty. She was shocked. He was gone. Avery backed out of the room, not knowing what to think.

“Looking for Lucas?”

She turned. Owen had just come in the front door. She nodded.

“I took him to the bus station a couple of hours ago,” Owen said.

She stared at him almost uncomprehendingly. “Hours ago?” she repeated numbly.

Owen nodded. “He’s gone.”

Eleven

Avery had caught glimpses of the Princeton University campus in the movie A Beautiful Mind. But the movie gave little hint how beautiful the actual campus was, with its magnificent ivy-covered stone buildings, vast green lawns, archways, and towers. She was awestruck by the place, and slightly amazed that anyone could simply stroll on the grounds. Signs around campus were announcing freshman orientation, and as she walked across the grass she saw groups of new students being led this way and that by older students in bright red T-shirts. Maybe it was her imagination, but everyone she saw seemed to look really smart, or maybe they just appeared smart because their clothes were a little dorky.

The Bendheim Center for Finance was located in the Dial Lodge, a three-story, slate-roofed stone building that looked from the outside like an old mansion. Inside, it was air-conditioned and filled with modern office spaces and computer rooms. M. Lucas Haubenstock, Jr.’s office was on the second floor, and as
Avery nervously climbed the stairs she expected that at any second, campus security would swarm in and escort her away.

Instead, she found herself outside a heavy wooden door that was open just enough that she could see a sandy-haired man with bushy eyebrows inside reading with his feet up on his desk. He was wearing a white-and-red-striped shirt, a blue bowtie, and khaki slacks. A pair of reading glasses was perched low on his nose. Avery paused outside the door, swallowed anxiously, then knocked.

“Yes?” the man looked up. “Come in?”

Avery pushed the door open and stepped in. The office was piled high with textbooks and journals, and odds and ends—an African mask, a model of a Buddhist temple—that appeared to have come from all over the world.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Are . . . you . . .” Avery suddenly hesitated, not sure whether to call him Mr. or Professor or something else entirely.

The man scowled, “Am I . . . ?”

“Uh, Lucas Haubenstock’s father?”

The man frowned, then smiled. “Oh, you mean Trey.”

“Sorry?” Avery said.

“Trey. That’s what we call him. He’s the third, so we call him Trey. It’s been so long since I’ve heard anyone call him Lucas that for a second there, I forgot. Yes, I’m his father. How can I help you?”

“I’m a friend of his. From the beach house this summer.
And, well, I lost his address and phone number.” This wasn’t true. Lucas, or Trey, had never given them to her.

“But you knew that his parents taught here, so you came,” M. Lucas Haubenstock, Jr., inferred. “Very smart. And you’d like to find him. Well, you’re in luck. I believe he’s over at the Firestone Library, probably asleep on a couch.” At Avery’s frown, he added, “Or wasting his time reading Russian literature.”

Then he smiled and winked.

Avery thanked him and found her way across the campus to the library, yet another tall, magnificent stone building with archways and enormous windows. Inside she wandered past the endless computer stations and stacks of books and tables until she spied Lucas lounging on a couch, absorbed in a book, his feet up on the corner of a low table—almost the same position she’d found his father in.

She sat down on the other end of the couch. Lucas looked up. When he saw her, he blinked long and hard. Then slowly he lowered the book to his lap.

“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen,” Avery said.

He responded with an almost imperceptible nod.

“I mean, if this were a movie, here’s what would happen,” she went on. “I would have come in here and found you with another girl. And you’d be whispering or touching or somehow being close in a way that would make me think she was your girlfriend. So I’d burst into tears and run away, but just as I did, you’d look up and see me and you’d run after me and be really
glad to see me and I’d say, but who was that other girl, and you’d say, oh, that was just my cousin. And then we’d hug and kiss and the movie would end and we’d live happily ever after.”

She hoped he’d smile. But he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “What about Curt?”

“It’s over,” Avery said. “It’s been over for a long time. I just had to figure that out.”

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked. “Because you weren’t so sure last time.”

“I’m sure,” Avery said.

Lucas scowled thoughtfully and studied her. Avery began to feel anxious and uncomfortable. He didn’t look that happy to see her. Had she made a huge mistake?

“If you’re wondering how I found you, I went to your father’s office. Listen, Lucas, if I’ve made a mistake. If I shouldn’t be here, I—”

Lucas lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips. “Shush.”

“Huh?” She scowled.

He gestured around. “It’s a library, remember?”

Avery felt a wave of cold dread sweep over her. Was she making a scene? Lucas swung his legs off the table and leaned toward her. “You’re at Princeton now, Avery,” he whispered somberly. “It’s a very important place. A serious place. A place for great learning.”

He kept leaning toward her, forcing her to lie back on the couch.

“A place of great minds,” he continued, only now she saw the slightest grin on his lips and sparkle in his eye. “You have to be on your best behavior. Because this is serious.”

By now, she was lying on her back on the couch and he was pressing down on her. “And I’m seriously glad you’re here,” he whispered. “Because you’re the best and it’s great to see you again.”

And then he kissed her. Right there in the middle of the library.

Seriously.

LB (Laguna Beach)

For all the good people who work at John Jermain Memorial Library and Westhampton Free Library—you know who you are

And for Lauren—artist, surfer, friend

One

“Headbanging sex,” said Linley Cattrel, thrusting open the door of the dorm room.

Without looking up, Claire Plimouth used the old standard: “Not tonight, I have a headache.”

“Again?” said Linley.

“Always,” said Claire. “It’s how I’ve maintained my purity.” She turned the page of her Intro Psych notes.

Leaning over the desk where Claire was working, Linley splayed her hand across the page. Her golden hair swept forward in a perfect curve across her sun-golden cheeks. Somehow she managed to smell like a good day at the beach, Claire noticed not for the first time, even though they were a continent away from Linley’s California home.

I probably smell like libraries and books and long, cold New England winters, thought Claire. Not sexy.

Not that she knew what sexy smelled like. Or sex, for that matter. Aloud, she said, “Philosophy exam tomorrow?”

“I act, therefore I am,” said Linley. “Descartes.”

“I’m not quite sure that’s how it goes.”

“Can’t study anymore. Besides, our first year of college is over. We should be partying. Hooking up. Sucking . . .”

“Suck off,” said Claire. “I’m studying. It’s not over until the final bell rings.”

“Suck-up. That’s what you are!” said Linley.

“I fail to see how studying for my last final of my last class of my first year of college is sucking up,” said Claire. “I like to think of it as the intelligent choice. The way you think of, say, condoms. Or tequila as opposed to gin . . . although I don’t entirely agree with that. . . .”

“That’s because you’re from New England,” retorted Linley.

“Home of the WASP drink by which you are embalmed alive.”

“Don’t have martini envy on me now,” said Claire. “Go away and play.”