“It was a long time ago.”
“Who loves anyone at age twelve?”
“I did. We did.”
Why had we walked so far? Now we had to go all the way back to the car that seemed to have made its way down to Cocoa Beach.
The wet sand shimmered. Foam drew lines in it, marking where the waves had ended.
My throat closed up.
Death played dirty tricks on the living. Yes, it did. Tragic, agonizing, deplorable tricks.
I spun around and looked into Buddy’s face. He hovered right on the edge of another step, one that would push us together. He rocked in the wind, waiting.
“Never mind,” I said, whispering. Somewhere down the beach a child screamed from joy.
I was kidding myself.
Why?
Because if his dead girlfriend wasn’t in my bedroom when I went home this afternoon, would I have even cared if he had been in love?
No.
I would have been sad for him she was gone. But glad that I knew Buddy. And got to kiss him and look in those eyes of his.
He said, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to be with someone else. But when I saw you . . .”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry.” My words might have been carried away by the wind. And then, “When you saw me, what?”
Buddy looked at me so hard, something curdled in my chest. “I thought, ‘ That is the prettiest girl I have ever seen.’ I was drooling all over myself. Then I thought, ‘I’m ready to care about someone again.’ ” Waves crashed and a seagull cried out overhead. “You’re different, Evie Messenger.”
“You have no idea.” I rested my head against his chest. That’s what I needed. Him being ready for a new person in his life. Not sleep at all.
Buddy hugged me. “It’s been a long time,” he said. “I can talk about it now.”