Diana Peterfreund - Rites of Spring (Break)

But neither was I capable of rolling out one of those guys’-guy faux-threatening comments in my current mental state. I couldn’t just laugh it off in any manner that would seem convincing. I think that ability was bundled with the Y chromosome.

And here we were always arguing for equality of the sexes.

So it was in silence that our little party trailed up the path and past the tour, where a man I supposed was Cavador’s caretaker was busy enlightening a knot of my brothers as to the geologic history of the island.

Maybe I was glad to skip this tour after all. My Spring Break–enthusiast Diggirls looked bored to death. As we passed, a few of my fellow knights twiddled their fingers in my direction, and George gave me a thumbs-up and raised his eyebrows. I smiled weakly in return and he looked relieved.

I’d give Cavador Key this: It may not be a luxury resort, but it sure was beautiful. The spring sunlight filtered through the leaves of shrub pines and palm trees, and the gray-white path snaked through thick palmetto ground cover toward a cluster of buildings. To my right, I saw a mangrove stand hugging the shoreline, and there were red and pink hibiscus flowers as big as my head on bushes all along the path.

We stopped by a low house hugging the path a little away from the main cluster of buildings. “Better stay here,” Poe whispered to me.

Must be the Gehrys’ house. He and Darren headed up the walk, but I don’t think the teen was interested in having the incident repeated to his parents, since he disappeared into the dark interior and shut the door in Poe’s face. Poe stood there for a moment, clearly torn between knocking or letting the whole issue slide. Personally, I’d vote the latter. I didn’t know if I wanted to know how Kurt Gehry would react to the news that Darren had almost killed me, accident or no.

He might be pleased.

After a moment, Poe returned to me. This of course is when I should have thanked him for saving my life. But for once, I, never at a loss for words, couldn’t think of anything to say that would get the job done. Eloquence deserted me. Even fluency seemed to be taking a coffee break. So instead I decided to have another coughing fit.

Poe paused on the path a few steps ahead of me and waited for me to finish.

The island was bigger than Clarissa and the others had led me to believe. At least, it seemed to take forever for us to get to the girls’ cabin. We trudged along in awkward silence, victim and savior, until finally we broke out of the scrub into a small clearing, and there it was, highly rundown, with dingy screens, a peeling green paint job, a sagging front porch, and a bright orange aluminum roof. I’d given up expecting luxury, and now merely hoped that the cabin would stand up to a rainstorm. (Doubtful.)

“There should be towels and sheets and stuff all set up for you,” Poe said, breaking the silence like a spell.

“Thank you,” I choked out. No. Not right. It sounded like I was thanking him for telling me about the linens. I reached out my arm. “No, really, P—Jamie. Thank you. How can I thank you? I could have died.”

He just looked at me, and then hefted the bag in his arms. “You’re welcome. Do you want me to take the bag in?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t even want you to carry it this far. I could have found this place by myself.”

“It’s not a problem. Like I said, I need to change, too. So, the bag?”

“I’m fine.” I held out my hands. “Please.”

He handed me my luggage, and once again I faltered. Saying thank you wasn’t enough, even if I said it three times. Even if I said it three hundred. How could I let him carry my freaking bag after he’d saved my life? It was too stupid for words.

So it came out again. “I could have died.”

“I know.” He was quiet for a second. “That’s what happens when you don’t know how to swim.” He quirked his head in the direction of the cabin. “Go lie down for a while. Dinner’s not for hours.”

I made it up the path, my face burning with shame. Yep, way to thank the guy, Amy. And you’re supposed to be a writer.

But it wasn’t as if Poe had helped any. I mean, what kind of guy starts lecturing you about your swimming skills when you’re in the midst of confessing how you’d practically faced mortality that afternoon? Not the time, man, not the time.

The interior of the cabin was warm, and dust motes floated freely in the sunlight that sneaked through the slats and the screened-in windows. Three bunk beds were pushed against the wall, each equipped with fresh sheets, pillows, and sets of towels. There was also a lone dresser next to a sink. No closet. Lovely.

I dropped my stuff on one of the bottom bunks, then dug around in my bag until I found my pajamas and a fresh pair of underwear. I peeled off my still damp clothing, and set about seeing if the sink had hot water, hoping to save myself a trek to the shower house. Negative. I weighed the trouble of hiking back down the path against the hassle of a tepid sponge bath, and decided on the latter.

The towels were pretty scratchy and thin, but big, more like bath sheets. Beach towels, I realized. For people who go to the beach, who actually like the water. I wrapped my body in one towel, and my hair in another. Maybe I’d go sit on the porch until I felt warm again. I looked out the window.

And that’s when I saw him.

Poe was standing on the border of the clearing, acting most peculiarly. He took a few steps toward the cabin, then paused, shook his head, and marched back out. He repeated the move a few times before stomping off for good.

I stood at the window, confused as hell. Why in the world…and then it hit me, way, way harder than the water had when I’d fallen off the boat.

Poe liked me.

My mind was still buzzing when the other girls arrived at the cabin.

“I owe you an apology,” Clarissa said, struggling to heave her Louis Vuitton over the threshold. “You were right. This place is a dump.”

I didn’t even have the presence of mind to look smug. “How was the tour?” I managed.

“Snoozeville,” Jenny said. “And did you know they don’t have Internet access here? How do they survive?”

“On the upside,” Demetria said, “I now know more about Caribbean air currents than I ever thought possible.”

“No Internet access?” I said. “But haven’t Mrs. Gehry and the kids been here for a while? That must suck for Darren.”

“Yeah, he must be so behind on his MySpace updates.” Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Perhaps he can entertain himself figuring out a way to get his spew off my shirt.”

“How are you?” Jenny asked me. “I feel so bad that we dumped you on that jerk.”

I shrugged, mind still whirring. Pour some rum into my skull and we could all have daiquiris at this rate. Poe liked me?

Clarissa was unpacking her second suitcase. “Don’t worry about Amy. She’s actually been known to seek out James’s company from time to time, isn’t that right?”

“I remember,” Jenny said.

“It’s Jamie.” I clamped my mouth shut. Where did that come from?

“What?”

“His name. It’s, um, Jamie.” And how long had he had a crush on me?

“Oh.” Clarissa turned back to brushing the wrinkles out of a silk sundress. “Whatever.”

And how come I’d never noticed it before?

“Tell me how it happened,” Jenny said.

I was curious about that myself. Poe hated me. He thought I was everything wrong with Rose & Grave. At least, that’s what he’d said back in November. But, since then, well, I thought we’d graduated to mutual…respect and neutrality?