He was underneath every word and every thought now. All I could think about was when I would see him again. It was the first time I knew what that kind of hunger, terrible and magnificent, was like. It was so much more than the words I heard in movies.
We pushed back out into the flattening heat of Clematis Street. Mrs. Grayson tossed the packages into the backseat of the car.
There was something about her I could trust. She talked straight to me, almost like I was a pal and not someone's daughter. The packages piled in the backseat made the car feel cozy enough for secrets. I had to tell someone who would understand. So I found myself blurting out my fear.
"I don't know when I'll see him again," I confessed, feeling the pain of each word.
"You'll see him in the hotel."
"No, he's gone."
"Petal, he'll be back tomorrow. He works there." It took me slow seconds to realize who she meant. "Cute kid," she said.
She thought I had a crush on Wally. The pipsqueak. That to her was a great match. Evie and Wally, sitting in a palm tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
It was hard to be mad at her after shed bought me all those clothes, but I managed it. We got in the car and I slammed the door.
"I'm not like other girls, you know," I said. "I've been taking care of myself since I was little. I'm not a kid. Mom worked since I was little. I made my own sandwiches for school since first grade. I put myself to bed plenty of times. Made the supper when she was tired. I did all that, and more, too."
I thought she'd understand, but she didn't. I could tell. She wasn't seeing me anymore. Now I recognized that other woman, the one I'd seen angry and turning her face away. All that pizzazz, and underneath it was a whole lot of sad.
"Okay, Evie," she said. "You're not a kid. Got it." She turned on the engine. "Just don't grow up too fast, that's all."
The mood had changed. Why had she invited me today? She'd asked me right after I'd read part of her letter. Was this shopping trip some kind of bribe? So that I wouldn't tell anyone what I'd read? So I wouldn't tell what I'd overheard?
It could all explode in our faces
I won't do it
If you do it, you do it alone
Chapter 12
The next day I sat with a schoolbook in my lap, under the shade of a tree that fractured the sunlight into points of fire. Numbers swam in front of my eyes. School seemed so far away. I was thinking of Peter, but I was also thinking of Arlene Grayson's suddenly cold eyes.
A hand reached over my shoulder and closed the book.
A flash of wrist, white cuff.
He whistled softly and raised me up, then stepped back to look at me in my new seersucker dress. I'd pulled in the belt as tightly as I could and my hair was loose and down to my shoulders.
"Well," Peter said. "Va va va voom. Look at you."
"You checked out." I blurted it out, then blushed, because it showed him that I'd been asking about him.
He sat on the wide arm of my chair. The sun hit his green eyes and turned the hair near the undone button
of his shirt gold. "A friend has a house here — friend of the family. My father happened to tell him I was here at a hotel, and hoo boy, they were insulted. Peter can't stay in a hotel, et cetera. So I'm at their house. It was closed for the season, but I'm camping out." He took the book out of my hands and closed it. "It's too hot to read. Let's go to the movies. There's an air-cooled theater in West Palm."
My heart jumped around like a fish. I wished I could just leap up and go with him, without another word.
He knew why I hesitated, and he made a slight motion with his head toward the beach. "Your parents are down there. I'll walk with you."
We walked to where Joe and Mom sat under a tiki hut. I could see Joe talking while Mom looked out to sea. Peter waited while I slipped off my sandals.
"I hope he says yes," I said.
"Make sure and tell him I'll take good care of you," Peter said, shading his eyes to look down the beach at them.
I skip-hopped over the burning sand. I stopped in the back of the tiki hut, pausing a minute as my feet hit the cooler sand that was in the shadow of the grass roof.
"You've just got to have the big picture, got to grab the biggest slice of pie," Joe said as I hopped to the next cool piece of sand. He looked up at me, scowling, but I thought he was just squinting in the sun. I couldn't imagine that there would be a time that Joe wouldn't be happy to see me. His beach shirt was open, and perspiration snaked down his bare chest. Mom had just been in the water; her suit was wet, and drops sparkled on her legs. Her hair was pinned up on top of her head.
"Can I go to the movies with Peter?" I asked.
Joe blew out a breath and looked at the water. Mom drew a pattern in the sand with a shell.
"It's air-cooled, and I'm so hot," I said. "And he said ... he said he'd take good care of me." Somehow it came out sounding wrong, but I didn't know why.
Joe twisted to look back up at the sidewalk where Peter waited. He stared for a long minute before he turned around again. "I don't like this, Bev," he said.
Mom shrugged. "She's almost sixteen."
"Which," Joe said, "is actually my point."
"So? It's just a matinee, Joe. Don't be such a stiff." Mom tossed her towel in her straw bag. "Tell you what — I'll chaperone. I've had enough sun anyway." She stood and wrapped the matching skirt around her tropical-patterned suit. She shaded her face with her hand and looked down at him. "I've had enough of this hot air," she said.
She didn't wait for Joe's good-bye. She hurried me along the sand, as if it was burning her feet, toward Peter. I was the only one to look back. I could see the back of the chair, and Joe's head, looking out to sea. His arm hung down next to the chair. His hand was curled into a fist.
The coolness of the theater made us shiver. Mom had changed into a white sleeveless blouse and a white skirt, and she glowed inside the darkness. Peter led us down to the middle section, close to the front. We were lucky. We came in during the newsreel.
The movie was Dark Passage, with Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Bogie's face was bandaged up, and I lost the plot about twenty minutes in. I just soaked up the darkness and Peter's arm next to mine. I could pretend that Mom was just a stranger on my other side.
But then the stranger nudged me. She put a whole dollar in my hand. "I'm starved," she whispered. "Get us something, will you?"
"I'll go," Peter whispered, and someone said "Shhhh!"
"No, Evie knows what I like."
I slipped out, bending down so I wouldn't get in anybody's way. I hurried to the counter. I didn't really know what Mom would want — she never really ate candy except in a big box on Valentine's Day. But I didn't want to waste any time out here so I asked for Sno-caps and a Hershey bar and popcorn. Then I put the change in my pocket and went back on a run.
I stood in the back of the theater for a minute, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Peter had moved over into my seat. Mom's blond head was close to his as she whispered something. The rest of the theater was dark except for those two blond heads, those white, white shirts gleaming in the darkness.
What I thought then was I needed to do that, think of a remark to tell Peter so I could lean with my lips close to his ear.
I slid into the seat next to Peter and passed the candy to Mom and the popcorn to him.
Peter held the popcorn in his lap. Mom and I dipped our hands in and out, occasionally bumping fingers, watching the plot tangle and untangle as the bad guys got shot.