Tighter (Page 44)

“Confused,” he said after a pause. “I was more like confused.”

It was a warning of sorts, but I was just so relieved to see him, I ignored it. “Something’s going on, Sebastian. It’s like everyone—Noogie, Emory, Aidan, Lizbeth, even Connie are all acting so incredibly strange. As if there’s this big joke on me, and they won’t tell me why.”

His head tilted. He didn’t answer.

“You know something about it, don’t you? You have to tell me. Tell me!”

“Listen, Jamie. Mrs. Hubbard called my mom. She might have called other people, too. You know how it is around here. And she thinks you’re acting … not normal.” He stepped forward, found my hand through the dark space and sealed his own over it, as if he’d figured out my desire to break for it.

“What a witch.”

“Listen, she’s not a bad old lady. She’s worried. But Noogie and Lizbeth’s laughing at you might be partly my fault. I was with some friends when your text came in. I told them about you coming with Milo, and kids thought it was a joke, so—” A deafening screech drowned him out. Some sound check guys had arrived onstage and were fiddling with the amplifiers.

“So what’s the joke?” I shouted. “What am I not getting?” I was so confused.

“They’re concerned about you, Jamie. We all are.”

“About what?”

Now Sebastian began to walk into the surf, ankle-deep, then pushing forward as he cupped his hands and raised his voice to a shout above the racket, but I was still having trouble hearing him. “I … I tried to understand and … helping Isa and … gone way past the point of … anything for someone … you think … agrees with me … damaging.”

I seized the word. “Damaging? Me, damaging?” It was outrageous. “What are you talking about? I’ve been a good—no, I’ve been a fantastic babysitter for Isa. Which that spoiled, selfish Jessie Feathering had no idea how to be. She used her job and that house as a place to hang out and party, to invite guys over—she’d lock Isa in her room sometimes, did you know that? She hardly cared about anyone but herself, and nobody called her out on it; you were all way too intimidated. Everyone here is so snobby, they can’t even bring themselves to realize how self-centered she was—I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I’ve always got Isa in my heart, always and always.” and always and where is the girl who looks after the sheep she’s under the haystack

He’d stopped a few feet from me, and was shaking his head. “Jamie, you don’t understand. That’s not what this is about.”

“Right, I get that now. It’s not just money snobs, it’s Bly snobs. It’s like a law here. The don’t-accept-the-outsider law. But I couldn’t be the first person to realize Pete most likely brought down that plane. There’s got to be some evidence. Nobody’s saying that, though, are they? Even if it’s true, even if he confessed it, nobody here would ever want to get involved with a scandal. Oh no, no. Not on Little Bly.”

But Sebastian hadn’t even let me finish, he’d been talking right back at me, his sentences bitten and spit. I could only hear him in phrases, even as I tried to listen though the chaos of my own emotions and all the noise around us, which seemed expressly generated to confuse and disorient me.

“—and that you set plates and cups … you talk to Milo, both of you, like he’s right there, right in the room! Imagine … poor Mrs. Hubbard … you and Isa both pretending that Milo was a real person … every minute … all day. A game of … really screws up … lot of people, can’t … get it? What’s the matter with you, that you can’t get that?”

He stopped. I stared at him, openmouthed. Then another speaker shorted as an electric-guitar chord whined and died. My ears vibrated; I had to cup my hands over them. Many more people had arrived on the beach, and were congregating, and the space was becoming claustrophobic.

“You’re wrong, he’s not dangerous!” I shouted. “He was a brother for Isa. But he’s more than that now, don’t you see? He’s how Peter opened the door.”

Sebastian sliced his arm through the air as if to amputate my words. He was angry, but I pushed on, I had to. “Listen, please, it’s true, I swear it. Peter’s too close to me. What he did, it haunts him, and he knows I’m receptive, you can’t feel him, not you with your perfect skies and your happy little—”

“Jamie, stop! Please! Stop!” Sebastian placed his hand up to my mouth without touching it. His other arm reached to grip my shoulder. “You need help—you really do, Jamie. And I want to help you.”

“Help me? I can’t even trust you, the way you’re looking at me. Like I’m some kind of maniac.” I wrenched away. “You people are all so suspicious, you’ve been watching me like a pack of weasels since the minute I came here. I don’t know why I thought you were so different. You’re just the same as all of them. Worse, even, because you tried so hard to trick me into liking you.”

“Jamie!” he called, but I was running now, as fast as I could to get away from him, dodging through the crowd, looping the long way so he wouldn’t catch me, then doubling back to where the car was parked.

They’d never believe me. None of them. Nobody would ever believe me. I’d always be alone. There was no point in explaining it. There was no point in sticking around.

TWENTY-SIX

The island had too many deer. You could see them rib-thin and mangy, wet warm eyes peering, frightened as Confederate soldiers searching for a route back home. I drove in the dark and I willed them back, back and I tried not to listen to the sounds in my ears, the sounds of static, of phones ringing for me bring, brring the sounds of dogs barking at me rough, rough the sounds that nobody else could hear.

Which way out of this noise?

I imagined myself, breathless as the moon, looking over this world but cradled safe in my dream of it. I imagined myself at peace from imagining, in the place where nothing needed to be compared or considered or valued. Crushed into the infinitesimal thing that I was before I was made to be me. I could get back there. Because I was not caught in the lights. I knew the path, even if I’d never felt so alone going down it.

At some point, I’d messed up the car—not sure how—and I’d punctured a tire. The hill was too steep to attempt with a flat. I wouldn’t be able to manage it, and so I left the car at the bottom of the drive.