Free Shining Sea by Mimi Cross Page A

my Kevin’s bringing food, and Pete said—”
    “He’ll bring beer.”
    “How did you guess? And your contribution?” Mary holds up a bag of marshmallows.
    So far, though I’ve been invited to a bunch of parties, I’ve only been to two, both at Mary’s house. Each time I ended up wedged between a couple of Kevins.
    But today is different. Today the party is here.
    “We really should’ve waited until tomorrow night,” I say.
    “True,” Mary agrees. “It’s not like this is going to help anyone’s test scores.”
    For students concentrating on marine sciences, school will have a slightly later than usual start tomorrow. Not so we can sleep late “’cause we’re gonna be partying half the night,” like Pete claims, but to give us time to make it over to Seal Cove, a public beach on the west side of the peninsula. The longest and supposedly prettiest beach on the Hook, it’s also the site for the infamous rules-and-regulations exam.
    Listing a bunch of rules and filling in blanks won’t be a problem. It’s the hands-on part I’m worried about. Tomorrow at nine a.m., I’ll be on a boat, in the water .
    As much as I want to embrace the beach, want to walk at the ocean’s edge, the idea of actually being on a boat , of actually being in the water, terrifies me.
    “You’re still stressed, aren’t you?” Mary says. “But not about the party.” I nod, and she gives me a sympathetic look. “You’ll be fine tomorrow; it’ll be like riding a bike.”
    “Yeah . . . if you saw the hills in my old neighborhood, you might not think that was such a good comparison.” But tomorrow’s test isn’t the only thing bugging me. Earlier this week I asked Mary about Summers Cove and told her how Dad had said not to go there. I was going to ask her about Bo too, but she got this weird look on her face. Then she said she had to go and hurried off to PE. Maybe now is a better time.
    “Mary, when I asked you about Summers Cove—”
    “Here comes Alyssa,” Mary interrupts. A 1960s yellow Mustang convertible skids to a stop in front of us, spraying stones.
    “And Pete and Bobby,” we both say at the same time.
    “Jinx.” I start to laugh, then stop, a second late in hearing the weight Mary’s given the word. Her eyes hold a warning. She really doesn’t want to talk about Summers Cove.
    Would it make a difference if I told her what happened to me over there?
    Wet lashes catching light, water dripping from his skin onto mine—
    “I didn’t ‘catch’ you. I dragged you. Out of a tide pool.”
    Lies, all lies.
    But even so, I can’t possibly tell Mary. Not about any of it.
    “Niiice,” Pete says, climbing out of Alyssa’s car. Bobby gives a low whistle.
    “It’ll be awesome when this place opens for real next summer; it’s so much closer than Seal Cove.” Alyssa points to the lighthouse. “Can we go up?”
    “Um, yeah, sure.” It had to happen sooner or later, might as well get it over with.
    By the time we come down from the tower, Alyssa is my best friend. “Hey, I’m driving the mantrap to Portland pretty soon. I need new winter clothes. You guys want to go?”
    “It could happen,” Mary says. “You in, Ari?”
    “Maybe.” I’m betting Alyssa approaches shopping like an extreme sport, but I wouldn’t mind checking out some clubs.
    A van drives up, and some kids I recognize from school pile out with blankets and coolers. As the crowd heads toward the steps, Logan’s white pickup rolls in. He takes his time walking over to where I stand waiting at the top of the stairs.
    “Who invited them?” He jerks a thumb toward the group on the beach below.
    I roll my eyes. “Come on, before Pete drinks all the beer. He brought Shipyard, and Geary’s. Not that I care, but you might.”
    “Damn right I do.” We make our way down the steps. “But promise me something?”
    “Sure,” I say, not really paying attention, “anything you want.” We walk across the