The Shippers(87)

“Maybe he couldn’t find a ride,” Ashley said, brainstorming. “Maybe he got lost. There’s absolutely no way that Cooper just left you there.”

“But there’s one other thing,” I said.

And I was just about to spill all the beans about the Sock Girl situation to Ashley when I looked up and saw the Sock Girl herself, with our brother, Pete, strolling toward us.

As I watched her approach, I relived the way my heart had collapsed in on itself when I saw that sock on Cooper’s cabin doorknob, and I found myself deciding that just because she had a name didn’t mean I had to use it. She’d always just be Bridesmaid Two to me.

Of course, her first question was about Cooper.

“How could he possibly miss the boat?” she asked us all, shaking her head.

How, indeed. “I hope you’re not too upset,” I said to her, not meaning it at all.

“Me?” Bridesmaid Two asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” I said, like Of course. “You two had such a very nice night together—and then the next day he was just gone.”

Pete looked down at Bridesmaid Two. “Did you have a ‘very nice night’ with Cooper?”

“No,” Bridesmaid Two said.

“You don’t remember spending the night in Cooper’s cabin?” I asked, calling her bluff.

Once again, Pete: “You spent the night in Cooper’s cabin?”

“No!” Bridesmaid Two protested again.

“Two nights ago?” I prompted, like You can’t remember two nights ago?

“Two nights ago,” Bridesmaid Two said, leveling her gaze at Pete, “I spent the night in your cabin.”

“Ah,” Pete said, looking up in reverie like a flood of heavenly memories was pouring into his brain. “That’s right. Yes, you did.”

“False,” I said, all gotcha, pointing at Pete. “You’re rooming with Dad.”

But Pete shook his head. “Dad moved in with Mom.”

Well, that was a development.

Now it was Ashley’s turn to point at Pete. “You were supposed to stay away from the bridesmaids,” she said then, like everybody had misbehaved. “That’s the whole reason we put Dad in there with you to start with.”

“Look,” Pete said. “This doesn’t have to be a thing. No bridesmaids were harmed.”

“So the person you liked,” I said to Bridesmaid Two, “was Pete? All along?”

Bridesmaid Two looked up at Pete all smitten and nodded.

And then the weirdest thing happened: I suddenly liked her.

“Mia Macall,” I said, considering it. “I love that name.”

She smiled. “You do?”

“I really do,” I said, riding a surge of affection. “It’s like a movie star name.”

“Too bad I’m an accountant, then,” she said.

A math person, too! Her stock was going up by the minute.

“You make it glamorous,” I said, and I meant it.



* * *



I FELT BETTER for a little while after that. But of course, if Mia wasn’t Sock Girl, then who was? Some other bridesmaid? Some random stranger? Good god—please don’t let it be Harmony.

I guess I’d never know.

Didn’t matter anyway.

Cooper had given up on me. And so I had no choice but to give up on him back.

Which I would totally be doing. Very soon.

Just as soon as I stopped longing for him to miraculously show up on the ship.

Here’s what I was up against: Nothing was fun without Cooper.

The ship seemed grayer, the people seemed duller. Even the ocean seemed … wetter. I didn’t want to be alone in the cabin, but I didn’t want to be out with the passengers, either. Every conversation I had to endure was interminable. Cooper had ruined me for everything—and everyone—else.

Two days at sea. Two days where I pretended to laugh, and pretended to be interested, and pretended to taste my food.

On the second night, we adjourned after dinner to the little theater where the slow-dance contest had been—this time to watch slideshows about the bride and groom. Brody’s slideshow, put together by his mother, consisted mostly of school, team, and mall portraits of the same kid with the exact same smile and the exact same haircut.

Yawn. No wonder I’d dumped him.

But Pete had been tasked with putting Ashley’s slideshow together, and he’d taken the project next-level seriously. He’d gone through every photo my mom had in every shoebox in the attic and pulled out all the sweetest, goofiest ones—of angelic Ashley, but also of our neighborhood gang: climbing the Vargases’ magnolia tree, hand-washing the Hamels’ cars, forming a human pyramid. The show had plenty of other photos, too, of course—but at least a third of them were the neighborhood kids.

And Cooper was in every single one of those.

Usually right next to me.

That’s what I saw as the photos flashed by—in every picture, Cooper and I were together. He had me in a headlock, or I was sitting on his shoulders, or we were upside down together on the jungle gym while everyone else was right side up. In picture after picture, Cooper was sitting on me, or holding my ankles for a handstand, or giving me rabbit ears.

And guess what else? In half the pictures Cooper was in, he was wearing—wait for it: a vest.