Alexa parked on Pleasant Street, in front of an old-fashioned Buick that Peter would have liked. He would have known the make and the model and announced it to them all, and they all would have ignored him because that was just Peter being Peter. And now he was gone, and they would have done anything to be able to indulge his interest in old-fashioned cars.
She made her way to the Coffee Factory, which was attached to the Book Rack. Newburyport had settled into its summer self. Sidewalk tables were out in full force. There were dogs on leashes and people who looked familiar to Alexa and also people she’d never seen before, which meant they were likely day-trippers from Boston on their way up 95, with stops planned in Portsmouth and at the Kittery outlets and for lobster rolls and ice cream cones. She saw her tenth-grade geometry teacher heading out of the bank, and Hunter Hayden, who’d been in her psych class senior year, coming out of Richdale.
At the coffee shop she waited in line to place her order. While she was waiting, she checked her e-mail on her phone. The only thing in her in-box was an e-mail from Amazon, which wanted her to rate her recent experience with the Chantecaille mascara she’d purchased. Alexa’s mother would freak out if she knew Alexa had spent seventy-two dollars on mascara she’d used once before giving it to Morgan, who was not allowed to wear makeup, but Alexa’s mother didn’t know just how much her videos had earned her.
Alexa Thornhill, will you rate the seller? begged the e-mail.
Alexa took her cortado to one of the outside tables and sat, considering her short-term future. The next day Tyler would be leaving with his family to spend three and a half weeks at his grandmother’s house on the shores of Silver Lake in Michigan, as he did every summer. Last summer, when they had just begun dating, Alexa missed Tyler desperately. Now she was sort of looking forward to his absence. Honestly, she would be mostly okay if Tyler met some wonderful Michigan girl this summer and fell in love with her. That would take so much pressure off Alexa. She’d have to pretend to be upset, etc., but she could pull that off.
She was supposed to see him that night. She knew what Tyler was hoping for, as a “good-bye” present, as he had referred to it. She’d been avoiding the topic; she felt like she should be ready to have sex with Tyler, and yet something was stopping her.
Alexa rated the mascara a four. Really it deserved closer to a three from a value to price ratio but she was feeling generous. Maybe Amazon and Chantecaille were onto something. Maybe the world would move along more smoothly if only people asked each other for feedback more often.
Immediately another e-mail came in from Amazon. Alexa Thornhill, how likely would you be to purchase this product again? With one being unlikely and five being extremely likely.
Seriously? She filled in the first star only, to make a point. It was truly desperate to ask for extra praise after you’d already gotten praise. It was something Destiny would do.
Then her phone pinged with a text. It was Caitlin, who wanted to know if Alexa could meet her for lunch in Portsmouth. She was still really pissed at both Caitlin and Destiny for what had happened in March, but it might be fun to take a drive up to Portsmouth, maybe see if there was anything new at Lizology.
March, a biting wind going at the walls of Destiny’s house.
Destiny lived out on Plum Island, far out, close to the lighthouse at the very northern tip. Destiny’s parents had gone to Boston for the night for a cousin’s wedding, so Alexa had driven Caitlin and herself out to Destiny’s in her Jeep. Destiny was supposed to stay home with her thirteen-year-old brother, Ethan. There was talk of a party at Jason Harrington’s house, but that was all the way out by Maudslay, miles and miles and miles away.
“We could go for a while,” suggested Caitlin. “Just to see who’s there.”
“I can’t go to a party,” said Destiny. “I promised I’d stay here with Ethan and his buddy.”
“They won’t even notice if we leave,” said Caitlin. “I just walked by Ethan’s bedroom and they’re absolutely one hundred percent glued to Minecraft.”
“Well, I’m not leaving,” said Destiny. “You guys go if you want.” The wind gave an extra-loud howl, as if it wanted to remind them that winter wasn’t over yet, and that it could send the water crashing over the Plum Island dunes anytime it wanted to.
Alexa glanced at her phone. She had three texts from Tyler practically begging her to go to the party. Can’t, she texted in reply. Hanging with the girls.
Caitlin looked uncertain and then she said, “Never mind. We’ll have our own party here. We can stay over, right? We’re staying over?” She looked to Destiny for confirmation and Destiny nodded. Caitlin opened the liquor cabinet and poked through it. “Jeez, Dest, did your parents start marking the bottles?” She was examining a fifth of Tito’s. “I think they did it wrong though. This line doesn’t even match up.”
Destiny yawned. “Yeah,” she said. “They did. But I heard Savannah’s mom telling my mom the trick about turning them upside down to mark them so we can’t just fill them up with water like we used to.”
Caitlin frowned at the bottle. “It’s kind of a good trick,” she said. “I can’t figure out how we’d fill it to the right place.” She turned the bottle upside down, then righted it, then, shrugging, returned it to the cabinet. “Leave it to Savannah’s mom,” she said.
Alexa knew she should be joining the conversation but she didn’t really feel invested in it, or even interested. She wondered if she should just go home, where her mom and Morgan were finding their way around their reordered family. Her mom and Morgan were probably cuddled up together on the couch, watching one of those interminable Disney Channel shows that Morgan loved, or else a movie featuring strong female central characters: Brave, or maybe The Hunger Games, although the latter was likely too violent for Morgan, who disliked blood and spears.
Caitlin rummaged in the very back of the cabinet and found a bottle of triple sec that was so old and irrelevant that nobody had bothered to mark it. “Here we go,” she said. “Party time!” She took out three juice glasses and lined them up, sloshing the triple sec more or less equally into them. More than a shot, less than a juice serving. She pushed one toward Alexa and one toward Destiny. Alexa took a sip of hers and coughed a little. It tasted like a clementine and a bottle of cold medicine had decided to have a child together and had put that child into Alexa’s juice glass. “I don’t think I can drink this,” she said.
“Of course you can,” said Caitlin. “Pretend it’s Tito’s.”
“We need a game,” said Destiny. “A drinking game! Quarters? Thumper? Buzz?” Destiny had gone on a college visit to UMass the month before.
“You need more people for all of those,” said Caitlin authoritatively. She sipped pensively at her triple sec. “I’ve got it!” she said suddenly. “How about Two Truths and a Lie?”
“I don’t think that’s a drinking game,” said Alexa.
“It can be,” said Caitlin. “Anything can be a drinking game if you drink while you’re playing it.”
They repaired to the living room, taking their glasses and the bottle of triple sec with them.
“I’ll go first,” said Destiny. She looked to the ceiling for a moment, thinking. “Okay,” she said. “Ready. One. I have never been to China. Two. I made out with Shane Miller in ninth grade. Three. I cheated on my Spanish exam first semester junior year.”
“Okay, wait,” said Caitlin. She had knocked back her entire serving of triple sec and was already looking bleary as she poured herself another. (Caitlin was such a lightweight.) “I know for sure that you have never been to China.”
“I could have gone to China,” said Destiny. “I didn’t meet you guys until we were ten. Maybe I went to China when I was seven.” Destiny had moved to Newburyport from Nashville in the fourth grade.
“I’m pretty sure you would have mentioned it,” said Caitlin. “So that’s a lie or a truth? I have never been . . . A truth. Okay, let’s see. And you would have absolutely told us about Shane Miller when it happened, right?” Destiny’s face gave away nothing. “Alexa? Would she have? What do you think?” Without waiting for Alexa’s answer Caitlin said, “So that’s a lie. Right? That’s a lie. Which means that you did cheat on your Spanish exam?”
Destiny’s head made a tiny nod and she said, “Amber’s older sister sold me a copy of hers from the year before. I aced that thing.”
“Aha!” cried Caitlin. “Drink!” Then, “Wait. Who drinks? Me, because I figured it out? Or Destiny? Because I figured it out.”
“I guess all of us,” said Destiny. She tipped all of the triple sec into her mouth and made a face. Alexa pretended to take a sip of hers and wondered if she could excuse herself to go to the bathroom and pour it down the sink.
“Your turn,” said Destiny, pointing her glass at Alexa. The wind huffed and puffed some more, and Alexa wondered if it might actually blow the house down. Had her mom made her special Dutch oven popcorn with plenty of salt and pepper?
“Go,” said Caitlin bossily. “Alexa. Go.” Alexa searched her mind and came up empty. “If you don’t go,” said Caitlin. “I will.” She refilled Alexa’s glass, which didn’t need refilling. And for some reason that very causal gesture set something loose in Alexa. It was something about the presumption of the triple sec, about the alcohol-softened, expectant, predictable faces of her friends, maybe about the fact that they still had their fathers and Alexa no longer had Peter, or maybe, beyond that, the fact that they didn’t know grief. They had never known real grief—they were untouched by its cold, dark fingers, and that wasn’t their fault, obviously, but it somehow made her unable to stomach being in the same room with them, especially when her mom and Morgan were cozy at home together. Without Alexa. She half-hoped the wind would blow the roof off. She wished, illogically, fervently, for something to happen that would take her attention from the sorrow and the rage she felt bubbling up inside her, that she could tell was about to spill over onto Caitlin and Destiny, whether she liked it or not. It was preordained. (It was Destiny.)
Caitlin was on her third serving of triple sec. Destiny’s eyes were turning glassy. They were both looking at her. Looking, and waiting, and expecting. Alexa could hardly stand it.
“One. I failed my driver’s test the first time I took it and never told you guys. Two. I’m not going to college. Three. I’ve cried every day since Peter died.”
“Whoa,” said Destiny. “This just took a turn.”
“You failed your driver’s test?” said Caitlin.
“I don’t know,” said Alexa savagely. “Did I?”
“I think the game is supposed to be a little more lighthearted?” said Caitlin. She was clearly buzzed, because she had started ending every one of her sentences with a question mark. “Something along the lines of how Destiny did it? Here, I can go. Want me to go, Alexa? One. I have never been swimming on a beach where there’s been a shark sighting. Two—”
She stopped and stared, because now Alexa was standing, almost quivering.
“Well I’m sorry if I don’t feel like playing this game. I’m sorry I’m not lighthearted enough. I’m sorry that my dad died and I didn’t get over it immediately. I’m sorry if it’s been a little—complicated on my end.”
Destiny glanced nervously at Caitlin. Alexa watched their eyes meet, watched a look pass between them that was definitely not meant for Alexa to share. It was the look an exasperated set of parents would pass back and forth over the head of a toddler in a tantrum, a look that said, Here we go again. Let’s just wait it out.
“But it’s been a long time now, Alexa. And it’s not like—” Caitlin clapped a hand over her mouth as though she could keep the evil words inside.
“It’s not like what? Say it, Caitlin.” The rage was rising, rising.
“Nothing.”
“Say what you were about to say.”
“Nothing,” said Caitlin, around her hand.
“You were about to say, it’s not like he was my real father, right?” Alexa could tell by Caitlin’s face that this was 100 percent correct.
“No, I—”
Alexa’s voice was steel. “Then what were you going to say?”
Miserably, mutely, Caitlin caved. “That?” she whispered. “But I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it,” said Alexa. “This game is stupid. I’m going home.” She started toward the kitchen, where her phone and car keys were.
They both said things like, What? And Why? And We didn’t mean anything! And (this was the most infuriating one, the one that set her teeth on edge): Stop being so sensitive!
“Are you mad at us?” Caitlin was pleading now. Good. Let her. “Alexa, please don’t be mad at us? We didn’t do anything?” She looked at Destiny for confirmation.
“Big surprise,” said Destiny. “Alexa’s leaving.”
Alexa turned around slowly. “Big surprise?” she repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You leave everything, if you even show up in the first place. You’re, like, totally disengaged. And it’s not just around us. Tyler told me the same thing.”
“I’m sorry,” said Alexa. “Tyler told you the same thing?” Problem number one with this story was that Tyler was unlikely to use a word like disengaged. Problem number two: why was Tyler talking to Destiny about Alexa?
“Yeah.” Caitlin looked like she used to in middle school, when she had an overbite and zits along her hairline, before she had a big glow-up and learned how to dress to flatter her skinny legs. “He talks to me sometimes too, you know. He’s allowed to have other friends.”
“I know he’s allowed to have other friends!” Alexa snapped. “Caitlin, obviously I know that.” She wasn’t that kind of girlfriend. Tyler could have all the friends he wanted. But she didn’t think he should talk to her friends about her behind her back. That felt sneaky and mean.
“He worries about you, Alexa. That’s all. Because he cares. But he said you can be prickly sometimes.” That was Destiny.
Alexa let out a short, derisive laugh. She faced Destiny and spat, “Now you’re both turning on me? Now I’m prickly?”
She and Destiny and Caitlin had existed as a threesome since Destiny moved to town in fourth grade, with a trace of Southern accent lingering from her early Tennessee years. Three had never been a crowd with them. But now Alexa felt like the loneliest person in the entire universe: lonelier than a hermit living in Siberia. She was a third wheel here, and if she went home she’d be a third wheel there too.
“I’m going home,” she said anyway.
“Don’t be mad?” said Caitlin. “I’m sorry for what I said?”
Alexa’s head was aching and her heart was aching. “I’m not mad,” she said. “I’m tired. And I forgot I have to get up early tomorrow.”
Two truths, one lie.
Now Alexa heard someone saying her name, and she looked up. It was Cam Hartwell, smiling that giant, goofy smile. She felt herself flush. She remembered the cup of tea he’d put by her bed. Something about this memory made her feel happier than she had in a while.
Next to Cam was a reddish golden retriever attached to a navy blue leash. “This is Sammy,” he said. “You didn’t meet him the other day because he was at the lake with my parents.” Sammy looked like a dog in an L.L.Bean advertisement. He was sporting a navy blue bandanna to match the leash and a collar with anchors on it. Very nautical. Sammy licked Alexa’s hand and then did a thing where he pulled back his gums and really looked like he was smiling. It was hard not to smile back.
“What are you up to?” asked Cam.
“Headed up to Portsmouth a little while later,” Alexa said.
Cam nodded. “Good day for Portsmouth.” Sammy let out a little whine and started to pull at the leash and Cam said, “Sorry, boy, we’re going now. We really are.” To Alexa he said, “Duty calls! But I’ll be in touch soon.”
Who was he, Alexa wondered, to be so confident that she wanted him to be in touch? She remembered the kiss in his driveway. He had definitely kissed her back.
Alexa Thornhill, will you rate your experience with Cam Hartwell?
She’d give him a four and three-quarters out of five. Could be a little less earnest, she’d put in the comments. Then she pictured Cam reading that and becoming sad. He’d say something like, I’m not that earnest, am I? He would say that very earnestly, of course.
Alexa Thornhill, how likely would you be to see Cam Hartwell again? On a scale of one to ten, one being not at all likely and ten being very likely.
She brought her cup back inside and placed it carefully in the dish bin, noticing as she saw her reflection in the glass that she was grinning. Yeah, okay, sure, she’d go see Caitlin up in Portsmouth. She could feel herself getting nicer by the minute. Must be the Cam Effect.