Free Swept Away by Michelle Dalton

should. It’s where my mother works.” Good. I’m managing sentences of more than single words.
    â€œHave you lived here your whole life?” Oliver asks.
    I nod. “Have you lived in California all yours?” There. A question about him. That’s what the dating guides Cynthia and I pore over say to do to keep a conversation going with a boy.
    â€œIn Cali, yeah, but not in the same place. When my parents got divorced, my dad moved to Sacramento, where he works, and Mom and I moved to the suburbs not too far away.”
    â€œWas that a big adjustment?”
    The instant I ask I want to take the words back. It’s such a personal question. Oliver just shrugs. “We were living in the suburbs before, we just moved closer to the city. The divorce part . . .” His voice trails off. I wait. “It was weird that it was suddenly official that dad wasn’t living with us. But they had hardly spent any time together for a long time. Mom’s job can take her practically around the clock, and Dad often had business trips.”
    â€œWhen did they split up?” It’s kind of amazing that he’s so open about all this. Maybe it’s a California thing.
    â€œA few years back. I think they’d been planning it for a while but wanted to wait until it was time for me to start high school. You know, because of the move.”
    We start the incline up Weatherby. I nod a greeting at Vicki Jensen and her dad standing outside Second Time Around. ­Vicki’s eyes are huge, taking in the sight of me with a new boy. She makes the universal “call me” sign. I’m glad Oliver doesn’t notice. He’s too busy watching the ferry chugging toward ­Hubbard Island.
    â€œSo . . . you’re visiting your grandfather.” Once again I haveto stop myself from calling him Freaky. “How come you’ve never been here before?”
    â€œPartly the distance. And Mom gets antsy if she’s too far away from civilization.”
    â€œAnd Rocky Point isn’t exactly civilized.”
    He turns his head to look at me full-on. “I think it’s great!” he protests. He stumbles over the curb, turns pinkish, and brings his attention forward again. “Mom, though. She grew up in Cranston and couldn’t wait to get out of Maine.”
    Cranston is a town just a ferry ride away. Or a circuitous drive to the next-door peninsula.
    â€œLike me and Cynthia,” I say.
    â€œWho’s Cynthia?”
    â€œMy best friend. She’s away for the summer. She practically has a calendar in her head where she’s x-ing out the days until she gets to leave ‘Rock Bottom.’”
    â€œThis place is so beautiful,” Oliver argues. “It’s like it says on that sign we passed on the highway.” He holds up his hands as if he’s creating a banner in the sky. “‘Maine: The Way Life Should Be.’”
    â€œThe way it should be for a few weeks a year,” I counter. “If you were here year-round you’d get insanely bored. There’s a reason so many people in Stephen King’s books go nuts in Maine.”
    â€œMaybe. But this is so much better than the suburbs. Except for the weather.” He gives me a grin. “See, I’m not totally swept away by all the beauty here.”
    I blush. I think I know what he really means, but I can’t help imagining what he means is me.
    â€œBack home, it seems to be all stress all the time,” he continues. “Mom’s job is wacky big. Like, millions of bucks at stake.”
    â€œWhat does she do?”
    â€œMatches investors with new tech. So she stays on top of everything that’s out there, and tries to nab big money before anyone else can.”
    â€œIntense.”
    â€œNo joke.”
    â€œSo why now?”
    â€œWhy now what?”
    â€œAre things less busy at her job now?”
    â€œShe doesn’t actually have a job.