I SIT BY THE POOL UNDER THE SHADE OF THE CABANA, a part of me excited by Lissa’s company and effort to be friends and a part of me guilty. Will gets out of the pool in front of us. It’s the first time I’ve seen him without his shirt. He has a bit of a farmer’s tan from golf, and his shorts are pulled up a little high, not like Danny’s, whose shorts always ride so low I have to tell him I can see his crack.
Lissa hands him a towel, and I’m glad I didn’t do the same. I keep forgetting that she’s the girlfriend, or at least thinks she is. Will puts the towel around his neck. “Hey!” he calls.
Nick Sopuch, Ross Love, and Gabby Chun walk toward us on the pathway. Seniors. I’m kind of relieved it’s all guys, but then Celeste Baldwin runs up between them, putting her keys in her purse and squealing, “Willy!”, which somehow harkens back to the old days when people would go to the hop. They gather around, loud with greetings.
“How was your trip?” Will says.
“Very nice,” Nick says. “Powpow, sun, all good.”
“Pull up some chairs,” Lissa says.
“How you doing, Lea?” Nick says, and it’s strange to hear my name coming from his mouth.
“Good, thanks,” I say.
Gabby tilts his head hello, and Ross leans down for a brief hug, a gesture that makes me feel older and part of it all. Celeste starts chatting with Lissa, and I overhear talk of graduation. I don’t know where Whitney is, but I want her to see me, see that I’m here and okay without her. If we’re not going to get over it, then I guess I’ll show her that I’m moving on.
• • •
It ends up being fun by the pool in the seniors’ company, maybe more fun than it would have been with just me and Will. I feel like his friends’ presence is a thickening agent, helping us form something that will set. He’s being seen with me, or around me.
I also like the big group camaraderie, having never really felt it while I’ve lived here. Dishes keep being brought out by waiters, and our jokes and laughter make our spot the place to be. Every now and then, Will and I look at each other, or our feet will touch.
• • •
Will walks me up to the hotel room. Now it’s just us since all his friends, including Lissa, have gone.
“What if Whitney really doesn’t want me here?” I ask.
“She’ll be fine,” he says. We get out of the elevator and walk down the hall of the twenty-fourth floor.
“I think she was mad that you and I are hanging out,” I say.
“I don’t see why she’d care.”
“I know, right? Did you tell her?” I ask, my voice coy, like I’ve caught him talking about me.
“No,” he says. “What would I tell?”
“Just kidding,” I say, so lamely.
We walk down the hall, and every time we pass someone who works here, they say, “Aloha.”
“That gets old real quick,” he tells me, and I imagine him running this place one day.
“You don’t want to stay here tonight?” I ask.
“God, no,” Will says. “People just get hammered and stupid. I mean, I don’t mind that, but it’s like . . . this is going to sound pretentious, but it feels like it’s at my house, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that,” I say. Your house. Your coast.
“So I don’t want a bunch of my sister’s friends at my house. I don’t want to see random people taking advantage either.”
“But Whitney likes it?” I’m having trouble piecing her together.
“Whitney,” Will says, mulling something over. “Whitney doesn’t want to be alone. She always has to be in something. She’s expected to throw these parties. Before you came along, she always had to be going at full speed.”
Before I came along. Why does this make me feel like I’ve abandoned her? Like I’ve given her the chance to move at a slower speed, to be herself, and without me, she’s thoughtless. Will takes my hand and stops in front of suite 2440. He knocks on the door.
“If you want to stay and have fun, that’s great,” he says. “Otherwise I’ll take you home with me.”
I love the way that sounds. I move to kiss him, lightly, but then the door starts to open, and he drops my hand.
“Oh, hey,” Danny says. The calm I felt disappears, along with last night’s thoughts on Danny—how he is this solid thing in my life. Him being here makes an angry heat shoot through my chest.
Will looks at him coolly. “Hey. Excuse me,” he says, and walks in, where he’s greeted by all the girls in the room.
“Guess you forgot to give me the change of date,” I say to Danny.
“I thought Whitney told you,” he says.
“Nope,” I say. “She’s apparently done with me.”
“Don’t fight with Whitney,” he says, glancing behind him.
“What? Why? Because she’d turn the island against me or something? Turn my best friend against me?” I feel exposed just then, admitting that’s who I consider him to be.
“I mean, don’t fight,” he says and shrugs. “She does enough of that with her other friends.” I think of Lissa and Mari, using her to get someplace else. I take in the action behind him—Mike Matson is here, along with the usual group of girls and guys. There are seniors here, too, but not Will’s friends. More of Danny’s crowd.
“Should I try to talk to her?” I ask.
I see her now, head thrown back, laughing at something Mike’s saying.
“You should,” he says.
“’Kay,” I say. “I’m not staying, but I’ll say hi.”
“Are you going back with Will?” Danny asks. He looks over my head and flexes his jaw.
I shrug and smile.
“He’s a player, you know,” Danny says. His eyes look red from salt water.
“Takes one to know one,” I say, but Danny just looks like he feels sorry for me, and I guess it’s an insult that doesn’t really ring true.
• • •
I go out to the balcony where Whitney is pouring herself a drink from a pitcher. The ocean glimmers beyond, a bright turquoise, so vivid it almost looks unnatural.
“Oh, hey!” Whitney says in a fake voice. “Nice stalking.” She’s wearing a crop top and short shorts, and I see her registering the fact that we dressed so similarly today.
“Stop it,” I say with a firm voice that takes us both by surprise. I close the sliding door behind me.
“Stop what?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent.
“It,” I say. “All of it.”
She lowers herself onto a recliner, and I sit down right next to her, the sides of our bodies smashed into each other. She scoots away. I move closer, hoping she’ll give in and laugh, but instead she stands and leans against the railing.
“Whitney,” I say. “Come on.”
“What?” she says and turns her head. “You think everything is just okay now?”
I look behind me at the scene of the party. Some of the girls are filming one another on their phones. “Yes,” I say. “I think everything is okay. What isn’t okay?”
“We’ve talked about it already. You and Will are not okay.”
“Why not?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, just looks back at me, raising her eyebrows like I should know.
When I came out here, I wanted to resolve this, bury it, but I can’t help but defend myself.
“Well, it’s not okay that you stuffed me in a closet, where I had to watch some seriously sick shit.” I get up and go to the railing, yet not right next to her.
“Oh, please,” she says. “You just waltz in here and take advantage of me and mess with all of us—”
“Oh my God,” I say, truly appalled and desperate for her to address this seriously. I feel like screaming, Take it back! and while I have never uttered these words, even as a kid, I understand why they’re said. You’re desperate for logic, for sense, and the first step is getting those wrong words erased from the atmosphere.
“How have I messed with any of you?” I ask, facing her even though she’s still looking out to the sea. “I didn’t ask to come here.”
“No,” she says. “Your mother did. And she’s taking advantage of my dad because he doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“Can we stop talking about our parents?”
“What else is there?” she says, with a desperate look on her face. “That’s what’s happening right now. Who’s going to be here or there, or where I need to go, or who Will needs to be seen with. It’s like a reality show, and I don’t care about you, okay?”
She looks unconvinced, not quite at home with her words but still committed to them.
When I’m sad, I know it. When I’m confused, angry, envious, left out, I know it. Whitney doesn’t seem to know how to identify her emotions. They’re like foreign objects she can’t digest.
Voices carry from the pool below, and beyond that the breaks roll in, carrying surfers and canoes.
“Are you sad?” I ask her.
She nods, quickly, and I think this nod got away from her. She wasn’t planning on admitting that, but her body had a reflex.
I hear the music from inside.
“I just want to get fucked up,” she says.
“You already are,” I say, angry that she’s not working with me. I tried.
I turn to the room and see Will inside, slapping hands with Mike. I walk out, toward her better half.
I close the sliding door behind me, then give Will a look, telling him I’m ready. He reads it perfectly and comes to me. I feel so good leaving with him. I look back and catch Danny’s eye as Will and I leave. His face is slack, sad almost, as though he has given up on something he loved.