“I knew there was someone in here!”
Even with all those flashlights in my eyes, I could tell it was Pixie. I was so embarrassed to be in her reading house without permission.
“How dare you!” she said.
“Calm down, Pix,” Pike said.
“Well, they know about us now,” I said to Scout, but he had vanished, and I was alone in the cottage, with the cousins and assorted drunk rich friends staring at me. I stood up and pulled down my dress. I couldn’t believe how high it had been hiked. And I am sure everyone saw my underpants. And what’s worse, it wasn’t until I jumped up that I realized that my dress had been unzipped down the back, and it fell off my right shoulder, exposing my ratty old bra. I snatched it back and was hoping Pepper would help me zip back up, but she slipped her arm around Pixie, and they walked away silently together. One by one, the party guests all followed them, leaving me alone with the moths flitting around the light. So I ran.
I ran through Pixie’s yard, under the rose arch, certain it was now flowerless—just leaves and rose hips. I found the path back into town and rushed through the tall grass; the swishing noise it made as I ran past sounded like whispers. A deer crossed the path, and I jumped back, falling over into the grass, convinced I was covered in ticks. Somewhere, I had lost a shoe. I limped through the path until it brought me down to Mulligan’s, smack into a bunch of stoners from high school.
“Hey goody two-shoes,” one of them said, and they all laughed. Then more joined in.
“Toohey-good-shoes.”
“She’s only got one shoe.”
“Toohey good for us,” the last one stumbled to make a joke as I pushed through them, ignoring the laughter and taunts and ran to the front of the store. It was closed. I could call home at the House of Pizza. Steve would let me use the phone. Or maybe he’d take one look at me and say I told you so.
I couldn’t run any further. My feet were killing me. I had stepped on some broken glass somewhere. Probably a bottle of cheap beer dropped by one of those stoners tonight or any other night of the year. Or any year. They’d be out there drinking in Mulligan’s parking lot until they got married. Then they’d drink at home or at the VFW—and be replaced by another generation of stoners and drunks, leaving their layer of broken glass and cigarette butts in Mulligan’s parking lot, a treasure trove for an archaeologist in the distant future.
I walked, leaving the smells and sounds of the sea behind, finally crossing under the state highway. Overpasses are creepy and wider than you imagine when you have to walk beneath them. Above me, I could hear pigeons cooing. I knew that meant I was walking barefoot through untold quantities of bird shit mixed in with the road sand.
I had never realized Keech Town was so uphill from the harbor road. There were no sidewalks. I thought I heard a growl in the darkness. A car passed me, turned around, turned around again, and pulled up alongside me. A Volvo with Massachusetts plates.
The driver’s window came down. I looked for a house I could run to. I never realized how far apart the houses were or how long the driveways were until now. If I screamed, no one would even hear me over the television.
“Claire, get in.” It was Cheddar. He was alone.
“No.”
“No, really, get in. There’s a mountain lion out here somewhere,” he said.
“The state warden says there isn’t.”
“There’s all kinds of things out here. Stuff like you wouldn’t believe.” I stared at him for a second.
“Whose car is this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Ours were all blocked in. This one had the keys in it, so I took it. Please, Claire. Get in the car. Let me get you home safely,” he said gently. “Please. It’s no trouble.”
No trouble? You stole a car, I wanted to say, but I caught my reflection in the window and realized I was in no position to protest. I was a mess. My eyes were swollen and red and circled with smudged eyeliner and mascara. My hair was a nest of snarls. I was holding the only shoe I had left in my hands. My feet were bloody and dirty.
I got in and didn’t even look at him. I was grateful he didn’t try to talk. We drove in silence until we pulled into my driveway.
“Thanks for looking out for me,” I said.
“It’s what I do,” he said and shrugged. I reached for the door handle and started to get out.
“Claire, wait. We’re not supposed to say anything bad about family, but … Scout’s kind of a dick, pardon my French. He’s a real dickwad, and they all know it. But they’ll still blame you … ’cause he’s Scout. And Pepper always says stuff she doesn’t mean. She and Meredith used to be friends, and you saw the way she treated her. It’s just the way the family is. I just want you to know. I feel bad you had to find out this way.”
After I said nothing in response, he said “Bye.”
That was the last time I went to Hazard Point.