Keeping the Moon(36)
Author: Sarah Dessen

I felt someone beside me. “Come on,” Isabel said, closing her fingers over mine. “We’re going.” Caroline looked at her, the way pretty girls do at girls who are much prettier.

“Okay,” I said, and I smiled at her. We started to walk off but Josh ran after us.

“Colie,” he said, and beyond him I could see Caroline still watching, her friends all around her. She was talking angrily, the words spewing out. I didn’t have to wonder what she was saying about me. I’d heard it all before.

“Yeah?”

“I, um, I’m sorry about my cousin,” he said. “We’re leaving tomorrow night, but maybe I can call you or something?”

Beside me, Isabel shuffled her feet in the sand. I could see Morgan crossing the dunes, the blanket folded neatly in her arms.

“I work at the Last Chance,” I told him, as Isabel tugged me away. “You can find me there.”

“I,” Morgan said as we bumped down the dirt road toward home, “have no idea what happened tonight.”

“I’ll tell you everything later,” Isabel said to her, patting her knee. “But it was very, very cool.”

When we pulled into the driveway, the headlights lit up the front porch, where a man was sitting on the steps. He stood up and squinted at us.

“Oh,” Morgan said, one hand flying up to her mouth.

“Oh,” Isabel groaned. “Great.”

“Mark!” Morgan shrieked, hardly even pausing to stop the car before she got out and ran across the grass, up the steps and into his arms. We were rolling toward the beach until Isabel reached down and yanked up the e-brake. “I thought you were back in Durham tonight.”

“Plans changed,” he said. “I wanted to surprise you.”

We watched from the car as they kissed, a movie-style kiss that lasted for a long time.

“Great,” Isabel grumbled. “Now where am I supposed to go?”

“Come over to Mira’s.”

“Nah. I think I’ll just take Frank up on that clambake on the sound side. I can walk from here.” She got out of the car and held the seat for me, then reached down and salvaged the last of her beers, tucking one in each pocket of her shorts.

“Hey, Isabel,” Mark called to her through the dark.

“What’s up, Mark,” she replied tonelessly.

“I want you to meet Colie,” Morgan said, taking him by the hand, leading him down the steps and over to me. As he got closer, I saw he looked just like his picture. Not everyone does. He was tall and tan, very athletic, with short black hair and white teeth that seemed to glow in the dark. “Colie, this is Mark. Mark, this is Colie.”

“Hi,” he said. “Morgan’s told me a lot about you.”

“I’m going,” Isabel announced. She was already halfway down the driveway.

“Where?” Morgan called after her, but Isabel didn’t answer.

“Some clambake,” I explained. “With that guy she met at the fireworks.”

“So that’s where you were,” Mark said, slipping his arm around Morgan’s waist. She had the goofiest smile on her face. “I missed everything.”

“No you didn’t,” she said suddenly. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a box, then opened it and shook something out into her hand. “Got a match?”

Mark handed her a lighter and she flicked it, then held the long object toward the flame, stepping back as it erupted into a shower of sparks between us.

“The sparklers,” I said. I’d forgotten all about them.

“Happy Fourth of July,” she said to Mark, and he kissed her.

I started toward Mira’s, wanting some time alone to savor everything that had happened, from the Chick Night to my triumph over Caroline Dawes.

“Colie, stay and light these with us,” Morgan called after me.

“I should go,” I said.

“Okay. But here. Catch.”

And she threw the sparklers at me, the box turning end over end in the air before I caught it in both hands. “Happy Fourth of July,” I said, but they didn’t hear me.

I closed the door carefully, then slid my hand into my pocket and retrieved my lip ring, carefully securing it back in its proper place. I took off my shoes and tiptoed down the hallway; I didn’t know how late it was, but I didn’t want to wake Mira.

I shouldn’t have worried. Before I’d taken two steps, I heard her voice.

“Hey there.” She was sitting in her chair, a disassembled telephone in her lap. I recognized it: it was the one from the upstairs hallway, which had a VERY QUIET RING. “How were the fireworks?”

“Good,” I said. I walked over and sat down beside her. The entire house was dark, except for the light over her shoulder, illuminating the parts strewn across the table. Behind the house, over the water, someone was continuing their celebration, the snaps and cracks loud in the dark.

“Another project,” I said, nodding at the telephone, and she laughed.

“You know,” she said, “it’s always just one thing that needs to be adjusted.” She picked up a bracket and examined it, turning it in the light. “But the hardest part is discovering what that one thing is.”

“I know,” I said.

She sighed and looked at me. And then took a closer look, and smiled. “You look wonderful,” she said softly. “What’s different?”

“Everything,” I told her. And it was true. “Everything.”

We sat there. Through the living room windows I could hear faint music from next door, soft, drifting love songs. I closed my eyes.

The fireworks kept on across the water, pops followed by laughter and bellowing. “Such a noisy holiday,” Mira said. “I hate all the pomp and circumstance, everything blown up into a big deal. I much prefer a nice, quiet celebration.”

“We can do that,” I said. “Come with me.” I got up and found some matches, and she followed me onto the front porch, where we sat on the steps. I shook two sparklers out of the box, handing her one. When it burst into light she smiled, surprised.

“Oh,” she said, waving it back and forth as the sparks showered down. “It’s beautiful.”

I lit one for myself and we sat there, watching them in the darkness. “To Independence Day,” I said.

“To Independence Day.” And then she tipped hers forward, touching mine, and kept it there until they both burned out.