“That forest gives me the creeps,” I said.
“It’ll be cool.”
“I’ll sneak out some beer,” David said.
“If your parents...”
“That’s all blown over.”
“Come on,” Sandy said.
“Well...” I said.
“Oh, look, it’s too hot to argue,” she said, and picked up her beach bag, slung it over her shoulder, and began threading her way through the sprawled bodies, heading for the dune.
“Poo, you are making a big mistake,” David said. He took his towel in both hands, and snapped it like a whip at a sand fly on the blanket, missing. He shrugged philosophically, and then started off after Sandy.
“It is pretty hot,” I said.
“You can go if you want to,” Rhoda said.
“Well...”
“Go on. If you want to.”
“Will you be all right?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded again.
“I think I ought to,” I said. I turned away from her gaze. “It’s so hot here,” I said.
“Yes, go,” she said.
I picked up my sneakers. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” she said, and again nodded.
“Okay then,” I said. “Hey, wait up!” I yelled to David, and ran after him.
We walked single file on the narrow boardwalk, Sandy in the lead with her beach bag hitting against her thigh, David with his towel slung around his neck, me trying to keep up while struggling to get my sneakers on. David began humming one of his symphonies. When we got to his house, he went inside and I sat down on the porch steps to tie my sneakers. Sandy was on the railing, looking off toward the beach. Her long hair hung limply, sticking in spidery tendrils to her cheeks. She raised her hand idly and wiped sweat from between her breasts, and then left her hand under the bra, as though trying to feel her heartbeat.
“Jesus, it’s hot,” she said.
I stood up and bounced a bit in my sneakers. “What do you suppose it is?” I asked.
“Ninety-eight, I’ll bet.”
“More like a hundred.”
“Rhoda’s an idiot,” Sandy said.
“She’s okay,” I said.
I sat on the steps again. Everything was so still. Sandy began jiggling her foot. Inside the house, we heard Eudice say something, and then David’s voice answering. Sandy raised her eyebrows. We both listened, but the house was silent again. In a little while, David came out with his poncho. He winked at us and started down the steps. We followed immediately.
“Trouble?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Have you got it?” Sandy said.
“Yep. Six bottles.”
“Two each,” Sandy said, and grinned. “Good.” She gave her beach bag a little twirl, slung it over her shoulder again, and began walking. David fell into step beside me.
“Know what else I’ve got?” he whispered.
“What?” I whispered back.
“Guess,” he said, and winked.
“Oh.”
“Mmm,” he said, and that was when we heard Rhoda’s voice behind us.
“Peter!” she called. “Peter, wait for me!”
“Oh, shit,” David said.
Sandy turned. “Well, well,” she said, “it’s Rhoda.”
We waited for her on the path. She was carrying the blanket and a large brown paper bag. She was out of breath when she reached us. Panting, she said, “You forgot the sandwiches.”
“We thought we’d lost you,” Sandy said, and smiled.
“May I still come along?”
“Get too hot for you on the beach?” David asked sourly.
“I changed my mind,” Rhoda said.
“Come,” Sandy said.
We began walking. I took the sandwiches from Rhoda. David looked back at me with a disgruntled expression on his face. We walked in silence, the beach bag hanging from Sandy’s shoulder, thudding against her thigh with every step she took. The sun was hot. We were climbing up and away from the beach. The sound of the ocean was very far behind us now. We continued to climb. I suddenly wished that Rhoda had not joined us.
I wasn’t sure why I felt that way exactly. I only know that as we got closer to the forest, as I saw the burnt trees in a shimmering haze ahead of me and above me, I remembered that once there had been a fire here, remembered that this was where Sandy had killed the gull, this was where David and I had pounded him to a pulp. And then I remembered sitting with Sandy behind the huge black boulder, and I thought of what David had picked up at the house, and of what we might have done to Sandy if Rhoda hadn’t suddenly decided to join us. That wasn’t exactly it, though. That wasn’t all of it. I don’t know what it was. I was frightened. I wanted to tell Rhoda not to go into the forest, the way Hitchcock had warned me not to go into the room. I wanted to tell Rhoda to get the hell back to the beach.
The burnt pines were gnarled and black against the sky.
“Are you all right?” I asked Rhoda.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
“Do you want me to carry that blanket?”
“No, I can manage.”
We found the huge boulder, as black as the skeletal trees surrounding it. Sandy went to it unerringly and kicked aside some bleached and rodent-picked bones that might have been the gull’s, I don’t know. We spread the poncho on the ground. I sat with my back against the boulder, and Rhoda sat beside me. I was trembling. David opened four bottles of beer.
“No, I don’t want any,” Rhoda said.
“Take one,” Sandy said. There was a sudden flick of harshness in her voice.
“All... all right,” Rhoda said.
David handed her an open bottle, and then sat on the poncho with us. Sandy was still standing. She accepted the bottle of beer David offered to her, tilted it to her mouth, said, “Skoal,” and drank. “Mmm, that’s good,” she said. “Isn’t it good, Rhoda?”
“It’s just that it’s so bitter,” Rhoda said.
“Got to take the bitter with the sweet, baby,” David said, and laughed. He drank, belched, said, “Beg your pardon,” and drank some more.
“It’s just as hot here as it was on the beach,” Sandy said.
“Not a breeze,” David said.
“Why don’t we go?” I said, and started to get up.
“After all that climbing?” Sandy said. “Sit down, Peter.”
I eased myself back against the boulder. Sandy finished her beer and threw the bottle into the bushes.
“Another one?” David asked.
“Why not?” she said.
“Isn’t anybody hungry?” Rhoda asked.
“I’m famished, baby,” David said, and laughed again. There was an odd sound to his laughter. He seemed very nervous. He belched again, drained his bottle, and tried to throw it into the bushes where Sandy had thrown hers. But the bottle hit the branch of a burnt tree, and the branch broke off and fell to the forest floor. A cloud of black dust rose on the air. The sound of the crackling branch echoed and then died. David handed Sandy another open bottle.
“Skoal,” she said.
“Skoal,” David said, and again laughed the same nervous laugh.
“You’re not drinking, Rhoda.”
“I really don’t like the taste of it,” Rhoda said, and put her bottle down.
Good, I thought.
“It won’t go to waste,” Sandy said, and shrugged.
“We’ll share it,” David said.
“Share and share alike, right,” Sandy said, and giggled. “Right, Peter?”
“What?”
“Share and share alike, right?”
“Oh,” I said, “yes.”
“Wouldn’t anyone like a sandwich?” Rhoda asked, and reached into the brown paper bag.