The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer) (6 page)

Walking to the door, I see Jackson in the hall, waiting for me. I linger in the room to avoid him as long as possible.

“Is there a problem?” Christian asks behind me.

“I’m sorry.” I move out of the Pedersens’ way.

“What class do you have next?” he asks.

“Chemistry,” I peek around him to see if Jackson is still waiting. He is.

“That’s also our next class. You can walk with us,” Christian takes my backpack from me and slings it over his shoulder.

I follow the three Danes into the hall. We are instantly surrounded by girls. Jackson tries to reach me but is blocked by the onslaught of females. Girls flirt with the Pedersens, uncea
singly. They bombard them with questions, which, I notice, are all answered briefly.

“How long have you been in the U.S.?” someone asks.

“Only a few days,” Sven answers.

“Why did you come to Maine?” questions another.

“We want to learn how you live here,” Henrik answers this time.

“Who are you living with?” Vanessa joins the inquisition.

“Marjory Rockwell,” says Sven.

“The Sea Hag?” Vanessa looks at them with disbelief.

“Yes, she’s an old friend of the family,” Henrik explains. “And she has been more than hospitable.”

“But she’s crazy!”

All three chuckle.

“Perhaps Marjory is unconventional, but she’s not crazy,” says Sven.

“She yells at the sea, lives in a dilapidated house, and eats garbage!” Vanessa exclaims.

“Vanessa, stop it,” I say. I can’t stand hearing her insult my neighbor. “Yes, Marjory is different, but there isn’t a nicer person in the village. We don’t have a problem with stray an
imals because she spays and neuters everyone’s pets for free. If someone’s lost something on the beach, she goes out of her way to find it for them. She’d give you the shirt off her back, if you asked her.”

“I don’t want her filthy shirt. That’s something only you would wear.” Vanessa smirks as she points at my clothes. The other girls laugh with her.

“Well, I was raised to worry about how I treat others, not the brands of clothes I wear.” I bite my tongue to keep from crying. I’m frustrated that I’m not wearing the clothes I had planned to wear because her brother doesn’t know how to mind his own business and keep his eyes off my breasts.

Theory #2 has been upgraded to Fact #6 – Puberty is unfair.

Proof – Boys can’t leave me alone, and girls ridicule me.

“Alexandra is correct, Marjory absolutely delightful,” Christian interjects in his melod
ious accent. The girls stop laughing, hanging on his every word. It’s obvious that the underclassmen haven’t heard him speak a full sentence before. They stare at him with dreamy eyes as his alluring voice continues, “We are fortunate to count her as our friend.”

I push my way through the group of girls and turn into the chemistry lab. The Pedersens follow. I take a seat between Kyle and Dan. The Danes head to the back. Christian stops to give me my backpack.

“Thank you,” I whisper, still mortified about being humiliated in front of them. It’s stupid, but I’m completely embarrassed that the girls laughed at me. I don’t even bother to look up as he walks away.

Chemistry is better than English. We go over the schedule, check the equipment in our lab lockers, and watch a short film on lab safety. When we are excused, I quickly run to study hall. With so much homework to do, the time passes too quickly. Before I know it, the bell rings, excusing us for the day.

Ducking and weaving the entire length of the parking lot, I make it to Merlin before Jen. I’m happy to have avoided Jackson and Vanessa, until I see Vanessa’s new car next to Merlin. Not wanting to deal with her, I climb into the van and hide on the floor in a bed of Cheerios.

“Alex, what are you doing on the floor?” Jen asks quizzically as she jumps into the dri
ver’s seat.

“Lock the door,” I say. When I hear the ‘click,’ I get up and sit in the middle seat. I dust Cheerios off my shirt, and shake them out of my hair. “I was
trying to avoid Vanessa.”

“That’s not Vanessa’s car,” Jen points to the green convertible. “It’s the Pedersens’.”

Sven is sitting in the driver’s seat. Henrik is riding shotgun, and Christian is in the back. I try to duck down but am too slow. Christian smiles at me. I cover my face with my hair and pretend I don’t see him.

“Girl, we need to talk,” Jen pats the front passenger’s seat. I move to it. “The hottest guy in the world just smiled at you, and you ignored him,” she says as she starts the engine.

“I have my hands full with Jackson,” I state. “Yesterday, he came to the house with Dr. Powers and practically accused Gramps of neglect.”

“I’ll strangle him!” Jen hits the steering wheel, completely forgetting the Pedersens. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I haven’t had the chance; I’ve been too busy trying to avoid him.”

“Is this the reason you aren’t taking the lifeguarding job?” she asks.

“No, Gramps wouldn’t even consider it. He shot it down before the Powers’ visit. I don’t know what we’re going to do. The windows won’t survive the winter, and he’s had bad catches all summer. We’re barely surviving on his social security checks.”

“I have two hundred in the bank you can have,” Jen offers.

Refer to Fact #4 – I am lucky to have a friend as awesome as Jen.

“Keep your money. We need at least two thousand. Without a job, where am I going to get that kind of money?”

Jen is silent for a moment. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but have you thought about that photo shoot?”

“I don’t think he was legitimate,” I quickly counter. The thought of anyone wanting pi
ctures of me is ridiculous.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Jen pushes on the gas. “We’re going to do some r
esearch.”

The library is packed with students, so Jen and I have to share a computer. She types in Colin Wright’s website. I hold my knees to keep from shaking while it boots up. The whole thing makes me nervous. I can’t believe I even let Jen talk me into keeping the stupid card!

When the website pulled up, she laughs. “I knew it!” she says. “You can’t get any more legitimate than that!”

I am silent as I look through page after page of photos from famous magazines. There is a long list of awards for photojournalism.  Located at the very bottom of the website is a photo of the goofy man we met at the ice cream parlor.

“Let’s double-check.” Jen pulls up a search engine and types in
;
Colin Wright, photographe
r
. The results are more photos and accolades to the man. One website calls him “the most talented photographer of the decade.”

Hypothesis #6 –
Modeling is mortifying.

“I don’t think I should get involved in this,” I whisper to Jen. “Gramps wouldn’t be ha
ppy.”

“That’s up to you, but it’s not like you have to model forever. Do a few shoots, pay for your windows, and then stop,” she says.

“I’ll think about it, but now I have a ton of books to checkout for school.”

*     *     *

When Jen drops me off at home, Gramps is working outside. He’s swearing like a sailor as he duct-tapes the front windows. The tape twists, and he gets weeds stuck in it.

“Can I help?” I ask.

“No, I’m just trying to extend their lives a little longer.” He forces a smile before pointing to the stack of books in my arms. “I’m sure you have homework. There’s an orange on the table for you.”

I kiss his cheek before going into the house. I go down the hall and stop as I walk into my room. The window has been boarded up. I sit on the bed, and fight back tears. Not being able to see the sky and ocean makes me feel like a caged animal.

“I didn’t realize how bad this one was.  We’re lucky it held up during that last storm,” Gramps says from the doorway. “But don’t worry. It’s only for a short time. You can trade rooms with me until I get the money to replace it.”

“I’ll say in here,” I clench my hands in fists, unwilling to look at the window.

“I’ll see how much I can pawn the T.V. for,” he quickly suggests.

“No,” I stand up, having forgotten my homework. “I think I’ll go look for driftwood.”

After changing my clothes, I grab my orange and head across the street to Marjory’s. I knock on her door.

“Hello, Singer beauty,” she says as she opens the door. There’s a huge smile on her face. “Come in! Come in! We have company!”

“I know, I’m sorry to bother you, but can I borrow your wagon?” I ask quickly.

“Yes, yes, but come and meet our company!” Her little, hunched over body is practically dancing with excitement.

Hypothesis #3 is false. Apparently Marjory has forgiven me for the whole peach thing.

“I met the Pedersens at school today,” I say as I quickly go down the porch stairs. “I’m kind of in a hurry. I’ll bring the wagon back in a couple hours.”

I eat my orange as I walk directly to my cache. I completely clean it out. I spend the next hour pushing the heavy load through the sand. I am exhausted when I come to the village, but I don’t stop until I come to Bill’s shop.

“Alex, what do you have there?” he asks as he steps out his door.

“How much will you give me for everything?” I ask, wiping sweat off my forehead.

He gapes at my vast collection. “Alex, these are very nice items. The best I’ve seen, but the season’s pretty much over. If you can wait until next spring, I can give you a lot more than I can right now.”

“I really need the money,” I explain. “I’ll take whatever you can afford.”

             
The wagon is empty, and my pocket feels just as empty as I walk home. Bill was only able to give me a hundred and fifty dollars with a promise of a hundred more the next year. I am sad to have given up my entire stash, especially since I can’t even buy one window with what I earned, but I don’t feel right about having the stash if it can’t help me and Gramps.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Christian asks from Marjory’s porch, flanked by Sven and Henrik.

I avoid looking at him as I walk into the yard. “No, but please tell Marjory ‘thank you’ for the use of the wagon.” I park it in her shed.

“She went to your house,” Sven points across the street. “You can thank her yourself,” he says rudely. I don’t know what I’ve done to tick him off.

Hypothesis # 8 – Sven doesn’t like me.

It’s really strange, Christian blows through his lips and Sven responds with a blow of his own. They frown at each other.
Maybe this is some weird Danish thing?
I think as I walk across the street, not bothering to tell the Pedersens goodbye.

Marjory is coming out my door as I walk up the sidewalk.

“Thank you for loaning me your wagon,” I tell her.

“Ah, Singer beauty!” she exclaims, lovingly patting my cheek. “You will come to dinner, tomorrow!”

She leaves without explaining a thing.

“Gramps?” I call into the house.

“In here,” he says from his room. I go to the back of the house and find that he has boarded up his bedroom window. “This one was bad, too.” He shakes his head. “I was going to trade you rooms, but it seems we’re both out of luck.”

“What was Marjory talking about?” I change the subject, putting my back to the boar
ded window.

“She’s invited us to dinner to get to know her guests better.” Gramps closes his toolbox.

“But I have so much homework,” I whine.

“You have to eat anyway, besides I already agreed to go.”

“Gramps…”

“I really don’t know what you’re complaining about.” He smiles at me. “From the ruckus going on in the village, I think you’ll be the envy of all the girls in the county.”

“I don’t want to be the envy of all the girls in the county. I want to be left alone!  I thought that was what you wanted, also?”

“Singers may not be a lot of things, but we are always good neighbors. We will be going to dinner tomorrow night.”

It’s no use arguing with him. I stomp to my room and slam the door. It has been an all around bad day.

3

Carpooling

That night I’m bombarded by nightmares of drowning in the sea. They are filled with darkness, only darkness. I am swallowed by it. My voice is stuck in my throat as I struggle in the depths. My body thrashes in the water, trying to break the surface. I am finally able to scream.

“It’s only a dream!” Gramps’ callused hand caresses my face. “It’s only a dream!”