The Brightest Stars of Summer (21 page)

Dear Zinnie,

I'm writing with good news. I received your story and you are a finalist for the workshop. I'll be making my decision tonight or tomorrow. I send out this email to make sure that every girl is certain she is ready to make the commitment that the Writers' Workshop requires. Please let me know and I'll proceed with my decision making.

Hope you're having a fantastic time on the Cape!

Sincerely,

Mrs. Lee

Dear Mrs. Lee,

I can definitely promise that I'm ready to make a commitment to the Writers' Workshop! I really hope I get in!

Sincerely,

Zinnie

The good news that she was a finalist for the Writers' Workshop had put Zinnia in a great mood, despite everything that had happened with Marigold.

“I'm the salty sea monster,” Zinnie said as she rose above the surface of the ocean water, her hair hanging in front of her face like a wet black mop. “And I like to capture little sisters and eat them for dessert!” She lunged at Lily, who giggled as she pinched her nose, shut her eyes, and dunked back under.

“I'm the Cape Cod kraken,” Max said, sticking a pile of green seaweed on his head. “I destroy the sea monsters who eat the little sisters.” He dove under the water and grabbed Zinnie's ankle so that she lost her footing and flopped onto her back, laughing. A boy had never touched her ankle before! The thrill of it sent her into a backward underwater somersault.

They were at the big beach with the estuary and dunes, where close friends and family were gathering for a clambake dinner before the wedding. The kids had already had plenty of clams, lobster claws, and corn, and Zinnie, Lily, Marigold, Max, and Peter were playing in the water while the adults watched them from the beach blankets.

Zinnie loved swimming in the evening. It was, she decided, her most favorite thing in the world. At least for right now. The air had finally cooled off. Yet the water had somehow captured the day's sun. Now that
she was used to the temperature, it felt warmer in the ocean than out of it, and it was delightful to crouch so that the warm water covered her shoulders. She liked to pop up into the cool air and then huddle down again. They had been hard at work all day with wedding chores, so this evening dip, or “sea bath,” as Aunt Sunny would call it, was an especially welcome rest. The only wedding duty left, for tonight anyway, was to gather the bright pink beach roses for the baskets. On the car ride over, Zinnie had volunteered to do it, because she wanted to show her parents that she was still a helpful and good person even though she'd read Marigold's diary.

Though now that she was bobbing up and down in the salty sea, she wished she hadn't volunteered to collect the beach roses. The sun was beginning to set, casting a glow on Max's face and Lily's, and hers, too, she imagined. She wished she could stay in this watery bliss forever, especially since Marigold had headed out, walking toward the shore with Peter.
Good,
Zinnie thought as she watched Marigold and Peter traipse through the shallow surf.
Go.

Even though she and Marigold had avoided each other all day, except for the cake tier assembling, the Atlantic Ocean still didn't seem big enough for both of them. Especially since Max couldn't take his eyes off Marigold in her one-shouldered turquoise bathing suit, or “maillot,” as she called it. (“This is my favorite
my-o
,” she'd said when they got to the beach, showing off her French pronunciation.) Zinnie was actually shocked that Max hadn't followed Marigold onto the shore but instead had stayed to play this underwater monster game. She hoped that Marigold and Peter were at this very moment falling back in love with each other so that she and Max could spend the whole wedding having fun together.

“If Zinnie is the salty sea monster, and Max is the Cape Cod kraken, then I'm the magic mermaid who can zap you both with my laser tail,” Lily said. Now an expert swimmer, she flipped onto her back and splashed water in their faces with her feet. Max and Zinnie feigned dramatic deaths. Lily laughed so hard she snorted. “Max, are you going to be so crazy when you have your special dance with Marigold tomorrow night?”

“Special dance?” Zinnie asked as she pushed her hair off of her face and planted her feet on the sandy sea bottom. “What do you mean, ‘special dance'?”

“Max asked Marigold for a special dance last night,” Lily said.

“And what did she say?” Zinnie asked, feeling like the ocean floor was falling out from under her. She knew Max liked Marigold, but Marigold had promised not to like him back.

“She said yes,” Lily said. Then she paused the conversation to do an underwater handstand. Zinnie stood
absolutely still, staring into the middle distance as the water lapped at her chin. A small wave brought a chilly current. It wrapped around her body, sending goose bumps all the way up to her cheeks. Lily resurfaced and announced, “And then he kissed her!”

“What?” Zinnie asked, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

“On the hand!” Max said, blushing even though his lips were starting to turn blue. “Jeez!”

“Like this,” Lily said, smooching her own hand. Little pecks gave way to full-on slobbering.

“It was not like that,” Max said, gently splashing her. “I was as courteous as a knight. A servant of the king, one who rides by night along the perilous shores!” He gave a formal bow. Zinnie could tell he was trying to start up a new game, but she was too busy imagining the kiss to respond.

“I gotta go,” Zinnie said, gathering her composure. “I need to pick some wild beach roses.”

“Oh, come on, we have plenty of time! Our parents haven't even had their coffee yet,” Max said, looking back at the grown-ups. Then he added in a deep, gravelly voice: “And never mind about the knight. The Cape Cod kraken lives! He has seven lives. So even though the magic mermaid killed him, he's not dead!”

“It's actually a really important job. Max, can you watch Lily?”

“Sure,” Max said. “I'll watch this mermaid. Then
I'll catch her by the tail!”

“They're not called ‘wild beach roses.' They're
Rosa rugosa
,” Lily said. She giggled as she swam away from Max. “They're not a native species.”

“Whatever they are, I have to get them now,” Zinnie said, turning toward the beach. Sometimes Zinnie felt like she was not a native species either. Her teachers called her “unique,” her principal called her a “stand-out,” and her dad called her a “one of a kind.” They all meant it in a good way, but sometimes it seemed like it would be easier to be just a more normal sort of girl. Maybe Marigold was right. Maybe she was too much of a spaz to ever have a boyfriend.

“Honey, you okay?” Dad called as Zinnie wrapped a towel around her waist. He was sitting on a blanket up the beach a bit. Marigold and Peter were walking down the beach, together.

“I'm going to get the beach roses,” Zinnie called back as she headed toward the dune. Zinnie knew that if she came within ten feet of Marigold she would want to tell her off, and she had given her word to her parents that she and Marigold wouldn't argue in front of Aunt Sunny.

As she climbed over the dune and out of sight of her family to the patch of beach roses, Zinnie tried to make sense of the situation. Lily said that Max had asked Marigold to dance last night, which meant this happened before Marigold had read Zinnie's story. So
it wasn't just an act of retaliation. It was pure, unprovoked treachery!

Zinnie was so lost in her own angry thoughts as she picked the roses that she didn't even notice the golden retriever that had decided to join her until he licked her on the cheek.

“Ah!” Zinnie said, startled by the wet nose in her ear. It was almost impossible to stay mad as the dog covered her face in kisses.

“There you are, Bandit!” said a voice. She looked up to see Mr. Rathbone with a leash in his hand.

“Zinnia Silver,” Mr. Rathbone said, his whole face lighting up. “How fortunate to run into you again!”

“How's Cameron?” Zinnie asked as Bandit rubbed up against her hand, begging to be stroked. Zinnie happily obliged.

“He's doing just fine. I can't tell you how grateful my family and I are. We saw you on the news. You did a great job. Your parents must be so proud of you.”

“Yes,” Zinnie said, though they certainly weren't proud of her for reading Marigold's diary. They had made that very clear.

“My family and I have been thinking about you a lot,” Mr. Rathbone said. “And I know that you said that all that you wanted was ice cream, but that just doesn't seem like enough. I'm fortunate enough to have a lot of resources—”

“I know who you are,” Zinnie said. She almost bit
back her next thought, but Zinnie didn't really care about hurting Marigold's feelings at the moment. She decided to just say what was on her mind. “And I loved the movie
Night Sprites
.”

“I'm so glad,” Mr. Rathbone said. Zinnie was surprised to see that he did seem genuinely pleased. She thought famous people like Mr. Rathbone wouldn't care about compliments from a kid, but his smile felt real. “And I'd truly love to grant a wish for you. My whole family would.”

“Like a fairy godfather. Or a genie!” Zinnie said, smiling as Bandit nosed her neck. Zinnie scratched his back and thought,
Hmmm.

“Take your time and think about it,” Mr. Rathbone said, “and don't be afraid to dream big.”

“Thank you,” Zinnie said, contemplating this gift of a lifetime. There were so many possibilities. The most obvious one was to ask him to put her sister into another movie, but why should she do that? Why should she give her one wish away, especially when Marigold thought she had no chance of ever having a boyfriend, and on top of that, Marigold was going to have a special dance with the only boy Zinnie had ever been friends with. She was mulling this over when a familiar voice brought her back to reality.

“Zinnie!” Marigold was calling her from the other side of the dune. “Where are you?”

“Coming!” Zinnie called back, and she picked one
last beach rose. She didn't want Marigold to see her with Mr. Rathbone. Not only was it sure to start World War Three, she was not ready to share the news of a soon-to-be-granted wish. She did not want to be pressured or even influenced. The wish belonged to her. Not everything had to be shared with her sisters.

“Let me give you my infor—” Mr. Rathbone began.

“Are you up there?” Marigold called from below. She was getting closer. “Did you get the roses?”

“Thank you so much. I'd really better run,” Zinnie said. She ran down the dune as fast as she could, hoping that Bandit wouldn't follow.

M
arigold awoke bright and early with her checklist next to her. She sat up and smoothed out the paper, which was rumpled and smudged from having been slept on. She had fallen asleep going over it. She looked out the window and saw a clear sky. The weather was on their side!

Her sisters were sleeping soundly as she looked over her list. There was so much to do. She needed to: (1) Make sure that her ceremony setup was still in shape and give the chairs one more wipe-down. (2) Cover, decorate, and set all the tables. Thank goodness Jean, Peter, and some of the yacht club staff were going to help with that! (3) Assemble the cake tiers that they had frosted yesterday. This needed to happen by noon in order for the cake to reach room temperature. Aunt Sunny had told her that cake tasted best
that way. (4) Get her sisters into their dresses and looking presentable. What was she going to do with Zinnie's hair, she wondered as she looked at her sister, with her mass of wild curls spread on the pillow.

Marigold got out of bed and peered out the window at the wedding tent, which, with the dance floor, band platform, tables, fairy lights, and paper lanterns, seemed to be anticipating the party. Even though she was aware that Peter had a girlfriend, she couldn't stop herself from imagining a dance with him, especially since he had been so attentive last night at the clambake.

He'd been able to see something was wrong when they'd all gone swimming after dinner and she and Zinnie weren't speaking to each other at all. It was too hard to pretend to be happy and play games with everyone when she was so mad inside, so she'd decided to walk to shore and sit with the grown-ups instead. To her surprise, Peter followed her.

“I know something's eating you,” Peter said, splashing her lightly. “What is it? Come on, spill the beans.”

“I'm really embarrassed about something,” Marigold said as they walked ankle deep in the calm evening surf.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“I'm not going to tell you,” Marigold said. “That would make me even more embarrassed!”

“My mom once told me that embarrassment isn't
the end of the world,” Peter said, stopping to pick up a piece of sea glass for his collection. “And you know what? She was right.”

“When were you embarrassed?” Marigold asked, not believing it was possible for anyone to be more embarrassed than she had been recently.

“Last year at the talent show,” Peter said. Marigold felt her cheeks warm. That had been her fault. He had said he didn't want to perform and she had pushed him into doing it anyway.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“It's okay,” Peter said. “I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. But I was really embarrassed. After that, the whole town knew that I can't sing and that my face is capable of turning as red as a
lobstah
!” Marigold laughed. Peter did, too. “Seriously, I thought I was never going to be able to go out in public again. But you know what my mom said to me?” Marigold shook her head, then turned to him and listened intently. She was ready for some wisdom. “She said, ‘No one survives life without getting embarrassed at least once really bad. Better to get it out of the way early so you can learn how to laugh at yourself and move on.'”

Marigold considered this. She had seen how embarrassed Peter was that night, and now he did seem able to laugh about the whole thing. Was this going to be funny one day? Impossible.

Peter tossed the sea glass, which wasn't quite smooth
enough yet, back into the ocean and continued. “Then Mom said, ‘It could always be worse.'”

“How could that have been worse for you?” Marigold asked.

“That's easy. Singing it in my underwear,” Peter said. Against all odds, Marigold found herself laughing again. In fact, she was in near hysterics.

“What?” Peter asked with a smile. “Is the idea of me in my underwear so funny to you?”

“No, no!” Marigold said. She hadn't even tried to picture that, though now that Peter had put it out there, it was hard not to think about. “I'm not laughing at you. It's just the way you say ‘underwear.'
‘Undah-weh.'
”

“Hey, that's a good imitation!” Peter said. “No wonder you're an actress!”

For the first time since the
Night Sprites
debacle, she didn't protest the title. At least not aloud.

Now, as she looked at the wedding tent in the morning light, she imagined it tonight after the sun had set, alive with music and aglow with candles. She knew she was going to have her goofy dance with Max, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering: Would Peter maybe ask her to dance, too?