Diana Peterfreund - Rites of Spring (Break)

Without a word, Poe slung the bag back over his shoulders and waded into the lagoon.

“Hey!” I started to follow him. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. I splashed in behind him, all the way up to my waist. Clearly, he was setting a new pace.

“What, am I on my own now?” I asked.

Now he turned and his cold expression said it all. “Don’t you want to be?”

I waded out farther, and he stopped. He didn’t return, but he stopped, just a few feet out of reach. And as I floundered toward him, he moved back at the same rate.

“Poe, don’t…” I said, dog-paddling.

“Two dollars. And I’m right here.”

We made it halfway across the lagoon like that. It wasn’t pleasant. I was breathing hard and I’m sure my terror showed on my face. Eventually, Poe took pity on me and pulled me the rest of the way to the shallows, but as soon as I’d found my footing, he took off again.

“Please stop,” I begged him. And he did. His expression was cold, his eyes unreadable slate.

“What is this?” he asked, wading toward me, the water churning around his thighs. “Are you grateful ?”

“Yes,” I admitted, then added, “but I wanted to kiss you.”

He shook his head and returned to the shore. I splashed up onto the beach after him, but it was as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. I copied him as he brushed sand off his feet then shoved them back into his sneakers. He skipped putting his T-shirt back on, but I covered up with my tank top and did what I could to squeeze the water out of my shorts and ponytail.

“That was a shit move,” I said at last, not looking up.

“Yours? I agree.”

“No, yours! You marooned me out there!”

He snorted. “No I didn’t. I was right next to you the whole time. You can swim. And even if I weren’t right there, you could have walked around.” And he pointed at the left side of the crescent, where the sandbar was closest to the island. “It’s about knee-deep the whole way.”

I clenched my hands into fists. “We could have gone that way the whole time? I didn’t have to swim?”

“Yep. I tricked you…into all of it.” He shrugged, all smug, and I shivered, suddenly wishing I had on more than a damp tank top. The boat had sailed on, and now I knew I wasn’t imagining things. The sun really had gone behind a cloud.

Poe stared into the forest for a bit. “Let’s go back,” he said.

“No.”

“Just forget it, okay?”

“No!” I walked over and grabbed his hand, held tight when he tried to shake me off. “You didn’t trick me. And I’m not grateful . And I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what to do when I saw that boat. Did you?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“So give me a break.” But even as I said it, I knew that would be unlikely. Poe didn’t give people breaks. He never had. Not even for himself. You were with him, or against him. Worthy of his notice, or beneath it.

So I wasn’t surprised when he said, “Let’s just go back.”

And that was the end of the date. We walked back through the forest in heated silence, one fueled by friction and frustration as much as by our quick pace. There was no more talk of osprey nesting or destroying society heirlooms because we hated their origins. There was absolutely no discussion about what had transpired on the sandbar, though the taste of Poe lingered in my mouth and I knew that if I lifted my hands to my face, saltwater or no, I’d be able to smell him on my skin.

I left him at the entrance to the girls’ cabin, and while I watched from inside, Poe strode off toward the boys’ cabin, and didn’t once look back.

Twenty minutes later, I’d washed off all traces of our interlude, and, dressed in my bikini and a fresh pair of shorts and top, I walked down to the docks to meet the boat.

Demetria was the first one off, and her face was like a thunderhead. “Hey, Amy,” she said, brushing past me. Jenny hopped down after her and shot her a concerned look.

“What’s with her?” I asked. Had there been another boating mishap?

Jenny scowled and looked over her shoulder at the boat. “Long story. Back at the cabin.”

My trepidation waned in light of whatever was bothering my fellow knight, and I’d almost forgotten it completely when Clarissa and George jumped down.

“You missed it all!” Clarissa said. “Some folks broke onto Cavador from the other island! I saw them on the beach. We’re going to tell Salt.” She clapped her hands. “You didn’t see anyone, did you?”

I glanced beyond her to George, who remained uncharacteristically quiet, merely raising his eyebrows in my direction.

I swallowed. Exactly how good was his vision when he had those glasses on? Could he have recognized us? “No,” I said, fighting to keep my voice light. “Hey, what’s with Demetria?”

Clarissa lowered her voice and led me up the docks. “That patriarch’s wife is a little whore, that’s what.”

“I don’t know why she’s letting it bother her,” George added, bringing up the rear. “She’s just a stupid barbarian. Dee says the word and we’ll all go kick her ass.”

“She won’t do that,” Clarissa replied. “She knows Kadie and Frank will leave and take the boat with them.”

“Who gives a shit?” George said.

“I’m sorry, what’s the problem here?” I asked.

“Racism,” George said.

“Homophobia,” Clarissa corrected.

“A little from column A, a little from column B,” George guessed. “Bottom line is, Kadie wasn’t exactly polite to Demetria.”

“She freaked out when she discovered Dee had been using her snorkel.”

Oh dear God. “That’s ridiculous.” What, did she think being a black lesbian was contagious?

“I think it’s the last time we’ll be using the yacht, that’s for sure,” Clarissa said. “What a bitch.”

Back at the compound, someone had already notified Salt about the supposed “intruders” out on the crescent beach, and he was mobilizing for a full sweep of the island. I looked around, hoping to take my cue from Poe, but he was nowhere to be seen. George was looking at me with barely concealed interest, and when I raised my chin he just shrugged and smiled.

Ben came over to us. “I’ve volunteered to take the north part of the island. Want to come with me?”

“Nah,” George said, obviously enormously amused. “I think I’ll stay here, make sure the compound’s safe. Whatever we saw, I don’t think it’s a big deal.” He turned to me. “What do you think, Amy?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered smoothly. “I wasn’t there to see.”

“Of course you weren’t.” He nodded.

“Well, I know what I saw,” Clarissa claimed. “Two people walking right up the beach and into the forest. They’re probably still here.”

“I’d guess so,” George said, and I resisted the urge to sock him. “From what I saw.”

“Maybe you didn’t see it right,” I said to him. “Did you have your glasses on?”

“I’ve got 20/20,” Clarissa said. “I saw it just fine.”

“What the lady said.” George’s smile didn’t get any less tempting with time. But now the temptation I felt was decidedly more violent than carnal.

“I’ll come with you,” Clarissa said to Ben, and I found it expedient to join them lest I be left alone with George Harrison Prescott again.

To my surprise, the sweep turned up the remnants of a campfire (several days old, according to former Boy Scout Ben), six Budweiser cans, and a waterproof tape recorder that we promptly relieved of its cassette, though it hadn’t seemed to record anything more than the sound of the waves.

“We’ve been bugged!” Clarissa exclaimed, vindicated.