The Last Song

Later that night, he found her sitting exactly where he thought she would be, in a beach chair with a book open in her lap, reading by the light of a small lantern.

She looked up as he approached, then went back to her book, acting neither surprised nor pleased.

"I figured you'd be here," he said. "Your house, your turtles, and all."

When she didn't respond, his gaze drifted. It wasn't very late, and shadows were moving behind the curtains of the small house she lived in.

"Any sign of the raccoon?"

Instead of answering, she flipped a page of her book.

"Wait. Let me guess. You're giving me the cold shoulder, right?"

With that, she sighed. "Shouldn't you be with your friends, staring at yourselves in the mirror?"

He laughed. "That's funny. I'll have to remember that."

"I'm not being funny. I'm being serious."

"Oh, because we're so good-looking, right?"

In response, she went back to her book, but Will could tell she wasn't actually reading. He took a seat beside her.

"'Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,'" he quoted, pointing to her book. "It's the first line in your book. I always thought there was a lot of truth in that. Or maybe that's what my English teacher said. I can't really remember. I read it last semester."

"Your parents must be so proud you can read."

"They are. They bought me a pony and everything when I did a book report on Cat in the Hat."

"Was that before or after you claimed to have read Tolstoy?"

"Oh, so you are listening. Just making sure." He spread his arms toward the horizon. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it? I've always loved nights like this. There's something relaxing about waves sounding in the darkness, don't you think?" He paused.

She closed her book. "What's with the full-court press?"

"I like people who like turtles."

"So go hang out with your aquarium friends. Oh, wait, you can't. Because they're saving other turtles, and your other friends are painting their nails and curling their hair, right?"

"Probably. But I just figured you might want some company."

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Now go."

"It's a public beach. I like it here."

"So you're going to stay?"

"I think so."

"Then you won't mind if I go inside?"

He sat up straighter and brought a hand to his chin. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, how can you trust that I'll stay out here all night? And with that pesky raccoon..."

"What do you want with me?" she demanded.

"For starters, how about your name?"

She grabbed a towel, spreading it over her legs. "Ronnie," she said. "It's short for Veronica."

He reclined a little, propping his arms behind him. "All right, Ronnie. What's your story?"

"Why do you care?"

"Gimme a break," he said, turning to face her. "I'm trying, okay?"

He wasn't sure what she thought about that, but as she collected her hair into a loose ponytail, she seemed to accept the idea that she wasn't going to be able to easily run him off.

"All right. My story: I live in New York with my mom and little brother, but she shipped us here to spend the summer with our dad. And now I'm stuck babysitting turtle eggs while a volleyball player slash grease monkey slash aquarium volunteer tries to hit on me."

"I'm not hitting on you," he protested.

"No?"

"Believe me, you'd know if I was hitting on you. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from succumbing to my charms."

For the first time since he'd arrived, he heard her laugh. He took that as a good sign and went on.

"Actually, I came here because I felt bad about the cage, and I didn't want you to be out here alone. Like I said earlier, it's a public beach and you never know who might come walking up."

"Like you?"

"It's not me you should be worried about. There are bad people everywhere. Even here."

"And let me guess. You'd protect me, right?"

"If it came down to that, I'd protect you in a heartbeat."

She didn't respond, but he had the feeling he'd surprised her. The tide was coming in, and together they watched the waves flare silver whenever they rolled and washed toward the shore. Through the windows, the curtains fluttered, as though someone were watching them.

"All right," she finally said, breaking the silence. "Your turn. What's your story?"

"I'm a volleyball player slash grease monkey slash aquarium volunteer."

He heard her laugh again, liking its unfettered energy. It felt contagious.

"Are you okay if I stay with you for a while?"

"It's a public beach."

He motioned toward the house. "Do you need to tell your dad I'm out here?"

"I'm sure he already knows you're here," she said. "Last night, he must have checked on me every other minute."

"He sounds like a good dad."

She seemed to consider something before shaking her head. "So you love volleyball, huh?"

"It keeps me in shape."

"That doesn't really answer the question."

"I enjoy it. I don't know if I love it, though."

"But you do like crashing into people, right?"

"That depends on who I crash into. But a few days ago, I guess I'd have to say it turned out pretty well."

"You think drenching me is a good thing?"

"If I hadn't soaked you, I might not be here now."

"And I could be enjoying a quiet, peaceful night at the beach instead."

"I don't know." He smiled. "Quiet, peaceful nights are overrated."

"I guess I'm not going to find out tonight, huh?"

He laughed. "Where do you go to school?"

"I don't," she said. "I graduated a couple of weeks ago. You?"

"I just graduated from Laney High School. It's where Michael Jordan went."

"I'll bet everyone in your high school says that."

"No," he corrected. "Not everyone. Just the ones who graduated."

She rolled her eyes. "All right. So what's next for you? Are you going to keep working for your dad?"

"Just through the summer." He scooped up some sand and let it slip through his fingers.

"And then?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you."

"No?"

"I don't know you well enough to trust you with that information."

"How about a hint?" she prodded.