DADDY JUST COULDN'T BRING HIMSELF TO CLOSE UP THE new pool, even though it was already past Labor Day. The fence was up, and the backyard looked like a big yellow sandbox. Mom and Dad gave a barbecue, and the whole gang was there: the Lippmans next door, the Dolces two doors down, and the Gennaros down the block. Casey usually got bored out of her skull at these parties, but she helped out with this one because she was so happy about Paul that she didn't mind playing the good daughter.
She had stayed up the night before with Mom and Anita Dolce and scooped out hundreds of cantaloupe and watermelon balls. Now she was watching the little kids in the pool. It was a total mess. Dad had put a plastic pan of water by the steps so everybody could rinse off their feet, but the little brats didn't bother. They ran through the dirt and jumped like lemmings into the water.
At least Lisa McGuire was around. Lisa was nearly Casey's age. She went to B.O.C.E.S. for Beauty Culture, and she was having hassles with her mom. They walked around to the front of Casey's house and stood in hot, clear sunlight. Lisa smoked a cigarette, and her luxurious black hair glistened. "Is Billy coming over?" Casey asked.
"I don't know."
"Is it serious?"
Lisa made a face. "Yeah. Right."
"How's your mom like him?"
"She don't talk about him. You know her. If it's not Joey, forget it."
"You still like Joey?"
Lisa leaned against one of the white columns in front of the house. There used to be three of them, but after Hurricane Gloria in 1985 there were two. Dad had never replaced the third one. "Who knows?"
Casey got a charge out of Lisa. She got a charge out of pretty much everything these days. She was bursting to talk about Paul, but she was keeping the lid on. Her birthday was soon and she knew Paul was going to get her a chain. Then everybody would know.
"Man, I'm bored," Casey said. She walked a few paces down the driveway and did stretches. The sky was terrifically blue today, with little puffy clouds. The weather had finally cleared up. Even school was bearable, now that she wasn't sweating through her clothes.
"Wanna take a ride somewhere?" Lisa asked.
"Can't. I said I'd stick around. Some of the guys are coming over later."
"Who?"
Casey worked on a knot in her thigh. The meet with Greenfields was this Wednesday and Casey was psyched for it. She'd been running smoothly, inching her times up. Mr. Young said she was in her groove. Yeah. She was.
"Let's see," she said. "Maybe Faye but I don't know, and Charlie, and Glenn, and Stace, I think. So maybe later we can cruise somewhere."
"I feel like getting totally wasted," Lisa said. She dropped the cigarette and toed it out. She wore a pink sweat outfit that made her look cute and girlish.
"Maybe my dad will give you a piña colada."
"Yeah, that sounds good."
Casey giggled. "Fat chance."
JoAnne carne charging around the house, soaking wet in her little flowered bathing suit. "C-A-S-E-Y-Y-Y!" she cried, in a voice like a fire siren.
"Oh, great," Casey said. She pretended not to hear. JoAnne went right up to Casey and whined, "Mommy wants you in the back right now to help bring out the ziti."
"Tell her I'll be there in a minute."
"Now," JoAnne persisted. "Right now."
Casey brought her arm up in a threatening motion. "Get out of my face, you jerk."
"You're a jerk."
"Brat."
"Stupidhead."
"Get away!"
JoAnne put her hands on her hips and did grinds with a nasty grin. Then she giggled and ran to the backyard. Casey felt her blood pressure rising. "Little turd."
Lisa said, "You want Glory?"
Glory was Lisa's ten-year-old sister. "Any day. Straight trade."
Lisa looked at her wristwatch. "I'm gonna call up Maryanne. Maybe she's around."
"Want to come back with me and serve the ziti?" "Nab." Lisa's eyes looked at the middle distance. "I'll be back."
"Take care." Casey envied Lisa for just taking off. Since her dad had divorced her morn, Lisa and her sister had the run of the house. Casey sometimes wished that her morn and dad would get divorced. They fought enough. Mean, quiet fights, with a lot of muttering under their breath. But they never talked about splitting up.
Casey swore that she wouldn't be that way. If she stayed with Paul, everything would be straight from the heart. No games. Just like at the duck pond. She figured Faye would be her maid of honor, if Faye was still around.
In the backyard, Daddy was at the bridge table that had been set up with all the liquor. He was mixing up another blender full of piña coladas, but he was swaying a little. He was singing in a weird voice and spilling things all over the plastic cloth. Casey laughed to herself. She thought Daddy was hysterical when he got drunk. It was the only time he really had fun.
Dave Gennaro was sunning himself on a lounge chair by the pool. He was a pretty foxy guy; Casey had sometimes had fantasies about him. His wife was a cute dizzy blonde.
Casey went inside. The kitchen was a total disaster area, with Tupperware bowls all over the place and shreds of lettuce and other gunk on the floor. All the women were in here, talking at the same time. Susie Gennaro smoked a cigarette, one of about five million she smoked during the day. She leaned against a counter, with one arm across her chest.
"Glad you could make it," Mom said to Casey.
"I was just up front."
"Well, I didn't know that, did I?"
"Okay, okay, don't have a hairy. What do you want me to do?"
Mom wore a red bathing suit under a beige beach jacket, and she wore her gradient sunglasses. "I want you to change your attitude."
Casey's face burned with embarrassment. This was nothing new. Mom would start up with her anywhere. Susie Gennaro smiled brightly and said, "How's the running going?"
"Okay," Casey said.
Anita Dolce ignored the clash between Casey and her mother and continued taking big trays covered with aluminum foil out of the refrigerator. She was a tall woman with frizzy hair. Casey wished she would say something now.
Susie Gennaro said, "How many miles do you run every day?"
"Usually I do about two," she said.
"That's all?"
"I'm not on Cross Country," she explained. "I do sprints and hurdles." She really didn't feel like talking about it.
"Well," Susie said, "I wish I had your legs. They're gorgeous."
She exhaled smoke, which hung in rings in the air. Casey blushed, and felt stupid. Mom had allowed the conversation but now she said, "Okay, let's get this stuff out. Casey, I'll come to the door and hand you trays, and you put them on the food table."
"Okay."
She opened the screen door and slid the metal ring so the door stayed open. Grace Lippman, who'd been in the dining room looking for plastic placemats, said, "Are we feeding the kids first?"
"Oh, God, yes," Mom said. "Let's get them done and then sit quietly and enjoy our dinner."
"Amen," Anita Dolce said.
Casey seethed. That meant she'd have to eat with all the little brats. Man, if she'd wanted to be a camp counselor, she could have gotten paid for it.
Brilliant sunlight made blinding slivers on the pool. The kids turned the slivers into froth as they lined up by the diving board and jumped in. They did it over and over again, jumping in, climbing out, running around to the diving board, and jumping in again. They never got tired of it. And the whole time they screamed.
Casey began to think of having kids with Paul. But not like this. Maybe they'd live out West. Or in Hawaii, in a house overlooking the ocean. And every night they'd stand on their deck and watch Diamond Head in the sunset. She'd always dreamed of doing that. With a white flower in her hair—Paul would think she looked pretty that way.
"Casey! Heads up!"
She snapped out of the daydream. Mom stood there, holding a tray of ziti with two pot holders. "Sorry," Casey said. She gingerly slipped her hands under the pot holders and took the tray. The ziti was dried out, and the layer of mozzarella cheese on top was burned at the edges. Nothing new.
"Can you make an effort to move it?" Mom said. Casey cursed under her breath.
"What was that?" Mom asked.
"Nothing."
"That's what I thought."
Casey turned away sharply and brought the tray to the long table they'd borrowed from Dave Gennaro. As she set down the tray, she saw Glenn walk into the backyard.
"Hi!" she said. She held both pot holders in one hand.
"What's doin'?"
"Zero. Where's everybody?"
He shrugged. "They'll be around. I got finished early so I drove over."
He worked at the local Channel store. He looked really tough in a cutoff sweat shirt and shorts. He'd been working out with the football team and he was pumped up.
"Have some burnt ziti," said Casey.
"I just had lunch."
"Please, come on. I have to eat with the little kids."
"Forget it."
"Thanks a lot."
Mom leaned out and called, "Casey! Oh, hello, Glenn."
Casey squirmed with fury at the way Mom totally changed her tone of voice. Glenn waved. "Hey, Ms. Gordon."
"Want some supper?" Mom asked. "There's plenty."
"I don't think so. I'm just hangin' out."
"Okay. Casey, want to bring out the rest of the stuff?"
She said it so sweetly. "Sure," Casey said. "I live to serve you."
"Be nice," Glenn said.
"You try."
She crossed the patio and Dad saw her. "Hey, Casey. How's my little girl?" He began to sing, at the top of his voice: "My little girl, as sweet as a rose is S-H-E-E-E-E .. . "
"Chill out, Dad," she said, a little embarrassed.
He made a pathetic face. "I don't understand. My singing should make you breathe faster, tingle with fulfillment, swoon with joy. Are you swooning?"
She laughed. He looked so silly in his Bermuda T-shirt and blue shorts, with his skinny legs and chunky middle. He held a plastic cup with about his ninth piña colada, and he had this goofy grin. She stuck one hand on her hip and tilted her head as she looked at him. "No, Dad. I'm not swooning. Sorry."
"Well, I like it. Having fun, kid?"
"Oh, yeah."
"How come you're not stroking away in the pool?" She wore a tank top and shorts, and her damp hair was combed back and held by a headband. "It got disgusting with all the kids in it."
"Aw, so tell 'em to get out for a while. It's for you, too."
"It's okay, I'd rather hang out with my friends."
"Well, I want you to enjoy that pool. It isn't just for JoAnne."
Casey bit back a tart answer, because Daddy was really being sincere. "How come you're not in the pool?"
"No time. Have to mix the drinkees." He waved the cup back and forth as if leading a band. "Mix, mix, mix. It's tough, but someone's got to do it."
She shook her head and laughed. "You're pretty polluted, Dad."
"Yes, I guess so." He shielded his eyes and looked at the pool. "It's a flotilla in there! Rafts to the left of me! Rafts to the right of me! I think I see George Raft!"
"Right, Dad. Slow down."
He looked at her like a sad beagle. "Do you know who George Raft was?"
"Uh uh."
"Boy, I feel old sometimes."
"Who was he?"
"Doesn't matter." He slurped at his drink, smacking his lips.
Mom stood in the doorway, looking disgusted. "Ron, Casey was helping me. Could you talk to her later?"
"Whoops," Dad said. "In trouble again. Go help your mother."
Casey put her hand on his neck, feeling his perspired warmth, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Try to stay on your feet, okay?" She felt real love for him just for this moment. He was so helpless and stupid right now, and so nice.
The afternoon was turning cooler—it was almost cold—when Casey got to take a walk out front with Glenn. She hugged herself against the fresh wind that tossed the treetops. Clouds slashed the sky. If she looked up in a certain way, she could imagine that all the houses were falling away.
"Thanks for sticking around," she said.
"Nothing else to do."
They trudged up Roberta Street, in the opposite direction from her jogging route. They passed Lisa McGuire's house and the woods behind it. Old tires and other junk littered the sandy hill that led to the woods. Somewhere back there a dirt bike buzzed like a hornet. Casey listened to the crunch of their sneakers on the road.
"I never see you in school," she said.
"We don't have any free periods together."
"I don't have any free periods period!" She shivered, and he hesitantly put a big arm around her shoulders. She gratefully leaned against him, liking the feel of his side rubbing against hers.
"How's it going with Paul VanHorn?"
She wished he hadn't asked. "That why you came around?"
"A little."
"I really hate you as a big brother."
"Well, I hate you as a jerk."
"Har har."
"So how's it going?"
"It's going good."
"Still seeing him?"
She reached across her body and held onto his hand. "Yeah, I'm still seeing him."
"Seriously?"
"I hate this."
"Sorry."
They walked silently for a while. They were in a different development, an older one. They passed two wrecked cars and a gang of dirtbags who hovered around the rusted heaps. In the middle of the road, a fat kid and a dark-skinned kid played with a frisbee. Thousands of crows started racketing at once, calling back and forth in the trees. She could hear Glenn's breath going in and out.
"How far are we walking?" she asked.
"I figured we'd go to the 7-Eleven, for a soda."
She stopped, which forced him to stop. "You have to be joking."
He made an open-handed shrug. "I'm thirsty."
"I don't want to go all the way there. I'll never make it back."
"Want to take a ride later?"
"Where?"
"If the other guys show up, we can go to the movies, or whatever."
"If my mom lets me."
They turned and walked back. She linked arms with him. "Can you believe it's our senior year?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm up to my ass in college applications."
"You? I figured they'd be driving you around in limos."
He grunted, embarrassed at the compliment. "I've had a couple of feelers."
"You'd better be a star. We're all waiting to say we know you."
"Yeah. Big thrill."
She jabbed him with her elbow. "Come on. You're terrific. We're all psyched like crazy about coming to the games."
He managed a smile. "Hey, how about your season? You've got a good shot at some personal records."
"I'm going all out," she said. "I'm pumped."
"Don't kill yourself."
"Not me."
He chewed on his lip as they walked. She stopped again, just at the curve that led back to her block. "What now?" he asked.
"Anything wrong?"
He looked away from her. "Nope."
"Bull. What's the matter?"
"Forget it."
"Don't play games with me, Glenn. We've been friends forever."
He turned back so abruptly that it startled her. His face looked disoriented. "Yeah, well that's the damn problem, so leave it alone."
"What?"
"Nothing. Come on."
"No way. What did you mean that's the problem?"
He looked toward the houses, biting his lip like crazy. He slapped his side uneasily with one hand. "It's no use getting into it."
"What do you want me to do, beg you? I care about you, Glenn. If you want to talk about what's bothering you, I want to help."
He hung his head. Then he looked at her. "You can't figure it out?"
She pretty much had figured it out, but she didn't want it to be true. It scared her and hurt her. "Why don't you tell me?"
A Chevy pickup came down the road and made a tight, squealing turn. It kicked up pebbles. Shreds of old, yellow newspaper danced in the air. Glenn said, "I like you."
"I know that."
"I wanted to go out with you. Since last year, I guess. But you were all screwed up with that other guy."
She exhaled. The wind went through her. She crossed her arms over her chest and trembled, wishing she'd thrown on her hooded sweat shirt. "How come you never asked me?"
"We were friends for so long, I wasn't sure how to do it."
"Come on. How'd you ask Jennifer DeFeo to go out with you? I mean, she was the queen of the cheerleaders and you were a junior."
He grinned at the memory. "She was pretty easy."
"I'll bet. But you couldn't ask me. What was it, my blinding beauty?"
"I hate when you put yourself down."
"Sorry. I love my beady eyes and freckles and straight brown hair. It's so subtle."
"You're an asshole, Casey."
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
The dirt bike came out of the woods. The kid on it looked about nine years old. The bike bounced and churned up a dust cloud and then whined down the road. Glenn looked openly at Casey.
"I was afraid of you," he said hoarsely. "You write poetry, and you've got such a deep mind."
"Oh, yeah. The Grand Canyon."
"See? You're always saying witty things."
"I am not. Will you get away?"
"It doesn't matter, anyway," he said. "I didn't ask you. I was going to do it at the Back to School party. But you brought Paul."
"Oh, no. Why didn't you say something when I called you?"
"Why?"
"Because I wouldn't have rubbed it in your face."
"I was just being masochistic."
"You sure were."
They let silence come between them. The air darkened. Houses looked like dark blocks against the deep, glowing sky. "So anyway," he said, "that's why I asked you about Paul now. After the party, I thought maybe you'd broken up with him."
She sighed and looked down at the cracked sidewalk. Then she grabbed him and held him with every ounce of her strength. He put his arms around her with great tenderness, and they rocked back and forth. She felt her eyes fill up, and she heard his raggedy breath.
"I love you so much, Glenn," she said into his neck. "I didn't want this to happen."
"Me either," he said. "It's not your fault."
She held on to him, and looked up into his face. "You deserve a lot better than me."
"Cut the crap."
"I mean it. It's just because we were so close as kids, but it's hard to be that way when you're different sexes and you're grown up."
"It still hurts."
She tightened her lips and touched her fingertips to his face. "I'm so sorry."
"I know." He gently pried her loose and kept her at arm's distance. "Don't sweat it. You've still got me on your side."
"I'd break your arm if you weren't. I need you. I'll always need you."
"Any time Paul gets out of line—even an inch—come running. I'll break his ass."
She smiled. "Paul's a cool guy. Maybe you'll even like him someday."
"Don't push it."
She realized that she'd been stupid to say that. "I won't. But don't ever leave me alone, Glenn. I couldn't take it."
"I want you to be happy, Casey. You've never been happy."
She hugged him again. "I'll be happy. I promise."
More cars came around the curve, with their headlights on. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly, and they started to walk back to her house. He'd really chewed her up inside. For a moment, Paul leered over her, a cold, vicious bad guy who held her prisoner while Glenn rode away, and it was Glenn she wanted. But that was idiotic. She thought of the duck pond and of how much she needed Paul.
So why didn't it feel good? Why did needing Paul sit like that whole tray of ziti on her chest? She didn't understand any of it, except that even when she found something that mattered, she made it hurt.