I want to tell Penny about Pfeff. I mean, she does know—everyone knows. Bess asked if he was my boyfriend, and Yardley said, “I’m not surprised.”
But Penny hasn’t said anything. I want to talk to her, tell her how he kissed me at the tire swing, what it’s like to be with him, all the details. She wants to know, I’m sure.
But she is always with Erin.
Of course I could talk to Bess. She would be eager to hear. But I have been growing apart from my sisters over these weeks I’ve been with Pfeff.
My father is not my father.
I am forbidden to tell this secret, but I am sure Penny and Bess can feel it wedged between us.
I miss them, but I do not know how to go back to jelly beans and sparkler parades.
On Tipper’s annual Picnic Night, we eat fried chicken and mustardy potato salad down on the beach, sitting at card tables draped with blue cotton cloths. Candles flicker in cloudy white glasses. There are cold slices of watermelon and ears of corn wrapped in foil, oozing with butter and fresh-ground pepper. Harris builds a bonfire and we toast marshmallows on long sticks, smashing their blackened bodies into sandwiches with dark chocolate and graham crackers.
Bess, Penny, and Erin get in the water, floating together on the rubber raft the boys bought in Edgartown. I sit by the fire with Yardley and George, Pfeff and Major. I lean against Pfeff and gaze into the flames. His arm curls around me.
George and Major are telling about the summer camp they went to for years. They had bunk cheers.
You gotta get in the car
You gotta step on the gas
You gotta get out the way
And let Thunder Bunk pass!
We say,
Ooh, ah, look at that booty
Ooh, ah, ain’t it fine
Ooh, ah, look at that booty
Ooh, ah, ain’t it fine.
“Sounds sexist to me,” says Yardley. “The counselors taught you that?” She is leaning back with her hands in the sand, her legs stretched in front of her.
“It wasn’t about girl booties,” says Major, his hand on his chest in mock offense. “It was about our own booties.”
George nods very seriously. “Definitely our own booties.”
Yardley shakes her head. “Yah, right.”
“We slapped them,” says Major. “We slapped our own eleven-year-old booties.”
“That’s how we know it was our own booties,” says George.
At that, Yardley demands they do the cheer for her with the motions. “I want all accompanying gestures,” she insists. “Dance moves, whatever. I need to see this.”
“Not with your dad down here,” says George, tilting his head at Uncle Dean.
“And not with Harris,” says Major. “That man is not sure about me, I’m telling you.”
“Aw, who cares about Harris?” says Yardley.
“I do,” says Major. “That guy scares me.”
42.
LATE THAT NIGHT, there is a tap on my door. I have just finished reading a story to Rosemary.
I go to the door, and when I turn to look over my shoulder before opening it, Rosemary is gone.
Pfeff leans against the doorframe, wearing an ancient blue cable-knit sweater and jeans, panting slightly. “Can I come in?” he asks.
“What are you doing here?”
“Quick. God, you look so pretty. Someone’s going to find me in the hall and kill me.”
I let him in.
“I was thinking about coming up here, the whole time at the bonfire,” Pfeff whispers. “I couldn’t think about anything but touching you.”
I feel like Rosemary is still here.
Pfeff presses me gently up against the wall and leans in. His lips touch mine and heat spreads through me. He puts his hand on my lower back and pulls my body against his. As always, I am overwhelmed by being close to him. I want to touch him and make sure he’s real and feel the strength of his arms around me, run my hands over his chest.
But Rosemary is here. Or not.
She might be.
I have had that feeling a lot lately. That she might be in my room, watching me, when I can’t see her.
“No,” I tell him. “Not here.”
“I just risked getting murdered by your dad,” he whispers.
“I know,” I say.
“It was very heroic.”
“Yah-huh.”
“Has a guy ever risked his life for you? No, don’t answer that. I’m sure lots of them have. But I made it to the top of this fortress tower thing where you live. You have to let me stay.”
“I can’t. Not now, not here.”
“Please. No one will know. I’m extremely stealthy.”