Stealing Heaven (4 page)

"No," I say flatly, without opening my eyes. The last
thing I need is some rich jerk trying to pick me up. Even if he did make the
(not very) big effort of

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walking all the way over here.

"Are you sure? Because you seem really familiar and-"

"Hey, did you move my sunscreen? I can't find it
anywhere." Girl's voice, sounding slightly upset.

"I didn't move it. It's right where you left it, Allison. And
if you don't mind, I'm trying to talk--"

I open my eyes. "Look," I say, because I am so not
interested in whatever drama is going to happen, but then I stop talking
because looking down at me is ... well. Someone who is so good-looking he can't
possibly be real. You know those ads where a shirtless guy stands around all
brooding and mysterious, like some sort of angel come down to earth? That guy
is here, and he's looking at me.

I'm stunned for about three seconds, which is how long it takes me
to realize that he knows exactly how good-looking he is. I can see it in his
eyes. They look just like Mom's.

"James, Janet's right over there, you know," Allison
says. She looks a lot like James except her hair isn't quite as blond and her
eyes are a lot more friendly. "Like, watching us. And you promised--"

"Fine." James smirks at me, then walks off. I watch

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him head back to a blanket near the water, sit down, and pull a
long-haired girl into his arms.

"I'm sorry about that," Allison says. "I didn't
mean to butt in. But see, Janet, the girl over there with him, is kind of my
friend. Well, she's visiting the people next door and we went to school
together Not that she ever talked to me or anything, but still, she's just
hooked up with my brother and, like, I--"

"It's okay." I don't think I've ever met anyone who
talks so much.

"Are you sure?".

I nod.

"I'm Allison."

"Sydney."

"Do you ..." She bites her lip. "Would it be okay
if I sat here for a while? Seeing my brother make out with someone is,
uh--"

"Weird."

"Exactly," she says, and sits down next to me.

Five minutes later we're heading down to where her brother and
Janet are sitting because she has to get her wallet before we get ice cream. I
think that's what we're doing, anyway. I'm not totally sure. She really does
talk a lot.

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"I'll just be a second," she says as she's digging
through a huge bag. "I have all this stuff in here because I
thought--"

"You thought you might see Brad," James says, and there's
an edge of something unpleasant in his voice.

"Shut up." She laughs. "Brad is this guy I
know," she tells me. "We met ages ago--his family and mine have been
coming here forever. We're--"

"Friends," James says, with a grin in my direction.
"Which is why you spent two hours getting ready to come to the beach this
morning. Because it's important to look good for your friends, right,
Ally?"

"I'd like to see you try to find totally waterproof makeup
and then put it on so it looks natural, you loser." They tease each other
for a couple of minutes--not in a mean way or anything, just teasing
like--well, like I guess some families do--and I watch them, fascinated. I
always wanted a brother or sister, someone to talk to about everything I can't
say to Mom. Janet isn't interested at all, just yawns and glares at a girl who
is looking at James.

"Okay, going," Allison says, leaning down and poking
James's arm. "You want me to bring you

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back a soda or anything?"

James shakes his head and leans over, wraps one hand around my
ankle. "Are you coming back with her?"

If I was younger or stupider--or both--I'd be a pile of mush right
about now. But I know how much guys can be trusted, and that's not at all. So I
just say, "Are you ready to go?" to Allison and pull away from him.
He acts like nothing has happened, turns back to Janet. If she was smart she'd
smack him, but she doesn't, just stares at him with her heart in her eyes. I
almost feel sorry for her.

"Ready," Allison says, standing up and holding a wallet
that probably cost as much as our car. I sigh. I'll get ice cream, I'll get
some information, and then I'm out of here.

I don't get any information.

Well, I get some, but not the kind I'm supposed to. I learn that
Allison can talk and eat ice cream at the same time. I learn she's going to
college in the fall and is really excited about it. When she asks where I go to
school, she listens and then asks questions that I have to make up answers to
on the spot. The few

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times before I've mentioned that yeah, I'm in college, no one has
cared what it's like. They just wanted to know where I was going.

I learn that Allison has a huge crush on Brad but that his family
isn't rich like hers. She doesn't say it, but it becomes obvious as she talks
about him.

"Mom hates that I keep inviting him over to the house every
year because his dad, like, sells insurance, but oh, if you could see him. He's
so cute! And he's not like the guys around here who are such losers. It's like,
how many times can I listen to the same stupid stories about how everyone went
to Amsterdam over winter break and got high? Whatever, you know?"

I nod and she keeps talking. Normally I'd write her off as a
babbling idiot and make an excuse to leave, but she's not an idiot. She's nice.
The only thing is, she keeps asking me about myself and then actually listens
to the answers. I'm not used to that. In fact, most people just want to talk
about themselves.

But Allison wants to know if I was nervous when I went away to
college and what classes do I like best and do I need an extra napkin for my
ice cream cone because she can just run right over and get me one.

I can't figure out what kind of game she's playing

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and then, as she's pointing out the shoes some girl is wearing and
asking what I think of them, I realize this is probably how normal people talk.
How maybe people who could be friends talk. Weird. And kind of nice, too. But
still weird.

"So where are you staying?" I ask, ready for the
conversation to be one I'm familiar with. She tells me her family is in Heaven,
in a house looking out over the ocean.

"Mom insists on calling it 'the cottage,' which is so stupid.
I mean, are the words 'beach house' so bad? We're at the beach, for heaven's
sake. Where are you staying?"

"What?" She wasn't supposed to ask that. I was supposed
to say "Wow, your house sounds great," and then she was supposed to
talk about it some more.

"Around here?"

I nod, hope she won't ask for anything more specific.

"For the whole summer?"

"I think so. You?" .

"Oh, of course. Every year for as long as I can remember.
Here until my parents' anniversary, which they celebrate by having a big party.
Last year

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I wanted to invite Brad but James said it might be weird for him.
This year I'm going to invite him, though. I mean, you don't think it would be
weird for him, right? It's not like we all run around naked or anything.
Although I wouldn't mind ...." She trails off and grins at me. "He's
just--you know how some guys are, right?"

"Sure." I don't, but it doesn't matter. I should ask her
about the party now.

I don't. Instead I point out a horrible tie-dyed jumper some
unsuspecting infant has been forced to wear and we agree that tie-dye, along
with all jewelry made from shells, should be outlawed. We sit and eat our ice
cream and by the time I'm done, I've promised to come back to the beach and see
her tomorrow.

"Thank God," she says. "It'll be so nice to hang
out with someone who doesn't have their head up their ass."

"Thanks. I think."

She laughs. "Seriously, you're the first cool person I've met
here in ages. Plus"--she clears her throat--"I'm pretty sure James
will be happy to see you again."

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I shrug. She gives me a look. "You don't like him?"

"He seems really ... nice."

She's silent for a minute and then she says, "Everyone's
crazy about him. You know how in some families there's one person everyone
wants you to be like? Like, they're perfect and what you're supposed
to-be?"

"I know exactly what you mean,"*I tell her. And I do.

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7

The next morning Mom says she has something for me to do. I rub my
face with both hands and stare at her sleepily. She's caught a cold or
something, was up most of the night coughing.

"You should go see a doctor," I tell her as I'm fixing
her coffee and she's looking at a map, marking off houses with little red Xs.

She nods, which I know means she isn't even listening. I sigh, put
her coffee in front of her, and then fix myself some cereal.

"So what do you want me to do ?"

"Baby, can't you eat something with marshmallows or frosting
on it like a normal kid?"

I sigh again. The map thing must not be going as well as she wants
it to. "I had a donut yesterday."

"Only old people eat those wheat biscuit things."

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"I like them."

She finishes marking Xs on her map and drops her pen on the table.
"Well, at least that's finally done. Did you meet anyone at the
beach?"

"Not really."

She gives me a look and I take an extra big bite of cereal just to
be obnoxious, crunching it loudly between my teeth.

"I didn't send you there to work on your tan," she says,
but she's grinning now. Teasing. Mostly.

"So do you finally feel like telling me what it is you want
me to do?" I take another big bite of cereal.

"Smartass." She grins. "I need you to see what you
can dig up on the Donaldson house." She points at an X on the map.

"What do you have?"

She tells me what she's learned, which is that the house was built
in the early twentieth century, that it's survived a bunch of hurricanes, and
that the family that owns it comes to stay every summer.

"Wow, I bet that doesn't describe any other house in
Heaven."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Danielle."

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"Sorry." I wash out my bowl and put it away, refill her
coffee. She's looking at the map again, and I watch her trace her finger across
streets, tracking ways to leave town.

"So what are you doing today?" I ask.

"Don't know yet."

Uh huh. Bartender again, I bet. "What's his name?"

"Christ, you sound like someone's whiny mother. Glenn,
okay?"

"Glenn what?"

She smirks. "We haven't got around to exchanging last names
yet."

I feel my face flush, and her smirk gets wider. She knows I don't
like it when she talks like this. "Well, tell him thanks a lot for giving
you a cold, will you?"

"We need an in to the Donaldson place," she says,
looking back down at the map. "Quit standing around here all prune-faced
because I like to have fun and go get some information we can use."

"Mom," I say, hurt, but she keeps looking at the map. I
wait a moment, but she still doesn't look at me, and so I head upstairs.

I was fifteen the first and only time I had sex. The

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guy's name was Roger, he was twenty, and he and Mom had hooked up.
He was a waiter at some resort she was checking out, and she fell for him as
much as she ever does anyone, which isn't much at all. They were together about
three weeks.

He was hot and funny and I had a huge crush on him, which I
thought I'd kept a secret. Looking back, I suppose I couldn't have been more
obvious. I would drop whatever I was doing when he came over and hang around
until Mom took him back to her room. Sometimes when they were done he'd watch
television with me till he had to leave.

And then one night he slept over and came into the kitchen when I
was making breakfast the next morning. I can still remember hearing him come up
behind me, how I held my breath and just waited. Hoped.

I suppose since he was so much older I should say he took
advantage of me or something, but the truth is I wanted him so bad even my
teeth hurt with it and the sex was amazing. I know, first times aren't supposed
to be great, but Roger had plenty of practice.

What wasn't amazing was waking up alone afterward and hearing him
and Mom talking in the hall.

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"Did you just do what I think you did?"

"Wait, you're mad? The other day you said you could tell I
thought she was hot."

Mom laughed. "You're a piece of work."

"Hey, you said you wanted the best for her. What was I
supposed to think?"