D. MacHale - SYLO

Dad chuckled again. “No lecture. I want you to talk.”

“About what?” I was getting nervous that he might know something I didn’t want him to know…like about our midnight rides or my adventure with the Ruby.

“Do you like living on Pemberwick?”

“Yeah. You know that.”

“I do. I just wondered if you missed Connecticut.”

“A little, I guess. But we’ve been here for five years. This is home now.”

Dad nodded but he looked troubled. I thought back to the strange conversation he and Mom had about moving to Pemberwick because it was a safe place.

“What’s going on, Dad?” I asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He sat up straight, as if surprised by a question he wasn’t prepared for.

“No,” he said, too quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a problem with being here.”

“I don’t have any problems,” I said sincerely. “Quinn’s another story. He can’t wait to get out so he can do something historic, but I’m in no rush to go anywhere. What’s wrong with working in gardens? Though I was thinking we should make it sound more important and call it landscaping.”

I smiled, thinking he’d laugh at the comment, but he actually looked sad.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

“Nah,” Dad replied. “Just know that you don’t necessarily have to travel to do something important.”

“That’s what I told Quinn.”

Dad shook off his dark mood, smiled, and stood up. “Well, you’re a smart guy too. You take after your dad. Now get up and go into town and have some fun.”

He left me alone with an uneasy feeling. My parents and I always got along great, which was a good thing considering I was an only child. (A term I hate, by the way. It sounds so forlorn or something.) We talked about everything. Even uncomfortable things like hygiene and sex. When Dad lost his job, I think it brought us even closer. It was like us against the world. We had to stick together and we did it by moving on and making a whole new life on Pemberwick. It sounds clichéd, but we were a team.

So it was strange to think that they might be keeping something from me. I suppose I shouldn’t judge. We all have secrets. But if they asked, I would tell them about the midnight rides. And the Ruby. I had to trust that they would do the same for me and let me know if anything was seriously wrong.

Of course they would. Why would I think otherwise?

I was tired of stressing. It was the day of the Lobster Pot Festival and I was ready to kick back, eat some bad food, listen to corny music, and basically spend the day having the kind of fun that a lazy weekend on Pemberwick Island was all about. More than anything else, it was a day to try to forget all of the lousy things that had happened over the last few weeks and just enjoy the moment.

The moment.

I think back on it. A lot. It’s like revisiting a favorite place. A place you wish you could go to again. But I can’t because that place doesn’t exist anymore, except in my memory.

The Lobster Pot Festival was the annual blowout that marked the end of summer. Three blocks of Main Street in Arbortown were closed off to traffic, making the whole downtown feel like one big party. Restaurants set up carts loaded with hot dogs, sodas, and lobster rolls. There was a band on every other corner playing rock oldies. Red, white, and blue banners hung everywhere. It was bigger than the Fourth of July.

This was my fourth Lobster Pot Festival and the most crowded by far. Oddly, there were a lot of faces I didn’t recognize. Since the festival fell so late in the season, it was geared mostly to locals, but there were plenty of non-locals there to enjoy the day. I figured it must have been because the warm weather had stuck around longer than usual, so many tourists did, too. That was okay. I liked the energy. Kids ran everywhere. People wandered around in their khaki pants, Izod shirts, and Topsiders while downing loads of ice cream and cotton candy. Arcade booths were busy with guys trying to impress girls with their ability to knock over bottles with a baseball or hit free throws. Old folks danced in front of the bands, not caring what anybody thought of them. There was a sailboat race in the harbor and fireworks at the end of the day to cap it all off. It was always a great event… the last blast of summer.

I wandered through the crowd, looking for Quinn. Instead, I found Olivia. She was off by herself in a small alleyway, pacing and talking on her cell phone. As I walked closer, I could see that she was deep into a conversation. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for her to finish… and heard what she had to say.

“No!” she cried. “No, this isn’t what I agreed to. I’ve already been here too long.”

She was pissed off.

“I want off, now. Right now,” she demanded. “Before it’s too—”

She kept trying to get a word in, but whoever she was talking to wouldn’t let her. I felt bad eavesdropping and started to move away when she spotted me. Her eyes widened as if she had been caught doing something wrong. I froze, not sure what to do. She looked me square in the eye and I saw that she was not only upset, she was crying.

“Stop,” she said into the phone, suddenly cold. “I get it. Goodbye.”

She punched the phone off.

“I’m sorry,” I said nervously. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That was my mother. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Is she coming to the festival?”

“No,” Olivia said curtly. “She went to the mainland to do some shopping…while I’m here.” She said this with a shrug and a big fake smile as if this were the last place she wanted to be.

“Are, uh, are you all right?” I asked.

She sniffed and nodded. “Yeah. Just homesick. I didn’t think we’d be staying here for so long. But hey, things change.”

I wanted to put my arm around her and tell her it was okay and I’d make sure she had a good time at the festival, but I didn’t get the chance.

“Homesick?” Kent exclaimed as he walked up with a swagger. “That’s not allowed on such an awesome day.”

Olivia smiled bravely. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Kent stared me down and said, “I’m surprised you can walk, Rook.” He looked to Olivia and added, “It was an ugly night for our boy.”

I wanted to argue and defend myself, but he was right.

“Sorry, Tucker,” Olivia said with sympathy. “Maybe football isn’t your sport.”

I opened my mouth to argue with her, too, but stopped. She was probably right too.

Kent put his arm around her waist and said, “C’mon, let’s have some fun.”

Olivia giggled coyly and nodded. “Yes. Let’s.”

She seemed to have shaken her dark mood, though I couldn’t help but think it was an act, because she reached out and touched my face and in that brief moment I saw the sadness return to her eyes.

“You are such a good guy, Tucker. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Take care of yourself,” she said as Kent led her off.

It was a weird thing for her to say. “Take care of yourself”? It sounded so final, like we’d never see each other again. Who knew? Maybe we wouldn’t. Her mother might give in and take her away from Pemberwick at any time. Her school had to be starting soon. All the more reason for me not to care that she had picked Kent over me.

I decided not to give it another thought. The day was about having some festival fun. I bought a hot dog and a soda from a cart, downed both, and was about to go for seconds when I caught sight of Tori Sleeper. She stood by herself in front of Molly’s Candy Store, leaning on a parking meter and sipping a Moxie. A band was playing an ’80s song (badly) and she was bopping her head to the beat. Her hair was down and loose for a change and she didn’t have on her baseball cap. I almost didn’t recognize her.