My Life as a Book (17 page)

Often when we take family vacations, we have busy schedules: hiking, seeing friends, visiting museums. But for the rest of this trip we do nothing, and it's a hundred times better. When I tell my parents, they agree.

For my Mom,
SUSAN JAMES DROWNING ON HER OWN + ME BEING ALIVE = LESS STRESS FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED.
She lets me eat fish and chips wrapped in paper and doesn't wipe the tartar sauce off my chin. She just laughs when I ask if I can run through the golf course in my underwear at night. It's almost as if that newspaper article had taken root in a small corner of my mother's brain and finding out what really happened has somehow dissolved that tiny growth, freeing Mom up for other things.

For our last day, Mom wants to go to Lambert Cove to see the sunset. It's a beach for town residents, but after six o'clock, anyone can go. We park our car, leave our shoes alongside everyone else's, and walk down the wooden, sandy boardwalk to the beach. My dad identifies plants as we go and stops to make a few notes when he gets an idea. I know Bodi wants to be off-leash, but I also know Mom's enjoying it here and I don't want to ruin her fun by breaking the rules. (For once.)

I bend down and see droplets of water on a spiderweb between two shrubs. I have to agree with Mom when she says this place is magical. When we finally reach the water, I understand why she loves it so much. It's one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen, completely different from those back home.

“Why don't you take Bodi off the leash?” Mom says. “I'm sure he wants to run.”

She doesn't have to ask twice. Even though he runs slower than he did when I was little, Bodi almost keeps up with me. When I turn back to find my parents, they're walking arm in arm far behind.

A few younger kids are playing Frisbee near the dunes while their grandfather cooks hamburgers on a small grill. The smell attracts Bodi, who sniffs around the man's cooler.

“You want a burger?” he asks me. “There's more than enough to go around.”

Even though I've eaten fish and chips, two chocolate cookies, a strawberry smoothie, and a bag of pretzels, I say yes. The man tells me to help myself to the ketchup, mustard, and relish from his cooler.

“Oops!” The man pretends to drop a burger in the sand, then gives it to Bodi. I think about doing one of my classics where I squirt ketchup on my hand and tell my parents I cut myself on a fishhook, but they look so happy I decide to let them be.

I might've seen an East Coast sunset when I was little, but I certainly don't remember anything like the oranges and pinks that fill the sky now. I stand still for several minutes and feel a kind of joy. Then the moment passes—like all perfect moments do—and the imperfect ones roll in like waves. A mosquito nails me on the ankle and the bite swells to the size of a nickel. I drop the last piece of hamburger in the sand and a lady yells at me to put Bodi back on his leash. It's okay, though; anyone who expects perfect to stick around is a moron.

The four of us sit in the sand and watch the sky until after the sun is long gone. I pick up Bodi's poop in a plastic bag and am surprised when we get to the parking lot and there aren't any trash barrels. My mom says it's “Take Out What You Bring In,” so I find a place in the trunk where the bag won't get squished.

We spent so much time at the beach that we have to hurry to make the ferry. Mom drives since she knows the island better than Dad does. When we pull into the large boat, the attendant yells at my mother in a Boston accent I've only heard on TV.

“Hey, lady!” he shouts. “Pay attention! Over here!”

I love it when her MomMad isn't directed at me. “Did he just call me ‘lady'?” she asks. “Did he?”

My father tells her it's no big deal, but I can see the anger rising in my mother's eyes. The guy motions furiously for my mother to drive forward until our car almost touches the one in front of us.

“Excuse me?” she asks. “But did you have to be so rude?”

“Lady, I've got to move a ton of cars through here in the next few minutes. Don't take it personal.”

“Personally,” she corrects him.

I almost feel bad for the guy, but not quite.

We decide to sit in the upper cabin and grab supplies from the car for the crossing.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Dad asks.

I find the bag of Bodi's poop and while the attendant directs cars onto the ferry I drop it into the tiny workroom where he'll hang out during our voyage. Both Mom and Dad see me, but instead of being angry, they both laugh. As we head upstairs, we can already smell the fumes.

It's almost another perfect moment.

Ten minutes after our arrival, Matt skateboards over to my house. After listening to Lauren Hutchins talk about losing her best friend, I'm happier than usual to see Matt walk in the door.

We skateboard down to the boardwalk, and I tell Matt all about Lauren, Mrs. James, and South Beach. When I tell him Bodi saved my life and not Susan, he suggests we contact the mayor and try to get an official Bodi Holiday so we can take a day off from school. He also tells me Jamie had to pay a professional service a week's salary to clean up the monumental mess he made in the house before their parents came home. We order strawberry slushies and watch the high school kids surf around the rocks. It's amazing how different two oceans can be.

As we ride home, I tell Matt we have to make a stop. When he asks where we're going, I say we have to play superhero and lend assistance to someone in need. He seems okay with that until he sees the name
RODRIQUEZ
on the door.

“Is this Carly's house? Dude, what are we
doing
here?” he whispers.

“We're helping Carly plant some flowers for Ginger.”

“Miss Goody Two-shoes killed the class hedgehog?” A demented grin appears on Matt's face until he sees my expression.

“She's not that bad,” I say.

When Carly answers the door, she seems surprised but happy to see us.

“I like your necklace,” Carly says.

“I like your armband.” I point to the black felt band on her arm.

“Nice job killing Ginger,” Matt tells her.

I elbow him in the ribs and he shuts up.

Carly gets three of her mother's shovels and we dig holes on the side of the house near where she buried Ginger. We plant big clumps of daisies, then water them. It seems Carly's learned a lot about plants from her mom.

After we finish, we say a few words for Ginger.

“Ginger was a good hedgehog,” Carly begins. “She gave everyone at our school so much pleasure. The Science Center won't be the same without her.”

Matt seems to have gotten over the fact that we're at Carly's house and adds some thoughts of his own. “Ginger stuck me with one of her quills last year, but I didn't mind. I hope they don't replace her with some lame animal like that gerbil we had in kindergarten who wouldn't even run on his stupid wheel.”

“I hope that Ginger ends up in a prickle of great hedgehogs with lots of grapes and crickets,” I say. Silently, I hope wherever Ginger ends up, she runs into Susan James and they can hang out for a while.

Mrs. Rodriquez brings us apple juice and chocolate chip cookies and tells us we did a great job with the plants.

“Hey, Matt,” Carly says, “you want to steal a diamond?”

Matt seems confused, but for the first time today, Carly appears almost happy. We stay until dinnertime, dodging the motion detectors in Carly's basement, then designing a new system we'll set up next week—during our last few days of freedom.