of Robert, but I was always on pins and needles when
talk turned to tourists and the effects they had on our
town. It was a subject Cary and Robert would have to
agree not to agree about.
That afternoon, Cary joined Robert and me in
the cafeteria for lunch. Robert asked him some
questions about boats and Cary talked right through
the warning bell. Every once in a while, Robert
glanced at me, his eyes wide with surprise. I simply
sat there, holding my breath, afraid that if I uttered a
word or moved a muscle; I might break the magic
spell.
But it didn't break. On the way home from
school that day, Cary offered that he might have been
wrong about Robert.
"Maybe it's because he's not from around here,"
he said. "At least he doesn't follow Adam Jackson and
that crowd. He asked me to give him some sailing
lessons. Maybe this coming weekend," he thought
aloud.
I bit down on my lip and nodded. I felt like
someone tiptoeing over a floor of fragile glass, afraid
that if I stepped down a little too hard, it would all
crack, shatter and break around me.
"You can come along, too, if you want," he
said. "That sounds like fun, Cary."
"We'll wait and see how the weather is. As for
it being fun, that will depend on how good a student
he is."
"Robert said he definitely could get away from