A knock at the door, and Mom peeks her head in. “I wasn’t trying to annoy you, sweetheart.”
I flop on my bed and sit like a pretzel. There’s a gaping hole in the bottom of my left sock, which was white at some point in its life, and I rip at it. “I might be feeling a little moody,” I mumble.
After shutting the door, Mom sits next to me. “Are you nervous to see Miles again?”
“Yeah, who knows what he’s even like now, Mom? I mean, Miles grew up in a borderline castle. Everything I own is thrifted.” I tug at my blue California T-shirt. “I’ve never even been to California.”
“Olivia, you’ve never complained about your clothes before. And Miles never cared that we don’t have much money, remember? He adored you as much as you adored him.”
True. I loved everything about Miles Hendricks, even his quirks: no peanuts or crustaceans near him or he’d puff up like a blowfish; no talking about clowns because they’ve given him nightmares ever since he saw the television adaptation of It. Miles never wanted to do daring things like climb trees or test how long we could hold our breaths under water—in that sense, I had more in common with his brother, West. But Miles and I were still inseparable, even with our differences.
“I know, but . . . how Miles and I even became best friends still boggles my mind sometimes,” I say.
“Well I know exactly how you became best friends,” Mom says. “I’ll never forget your first playdate. I had been making you grilled cheese at home. You remember, right?”
“Of course.” Mom’s grilled cheeses are just Wonder Bread and processed cheddar slices, but they’re always the best. She’s told me this story a million times, but I let her continue.
“Then there was a knock at the door, and Beatrice Hendricks—one of the richest women in town—stood on the other side. I wish I could’ve seen my own face. I think I felt like I was somehow in trouble for something. Anyway, Beatrice said, and I’ll never forget it, ‘My son Miles has taken a liking to your daughter and would like to bring her to our estate for a playdate. If you could have her ready, we can drive you both immediately.’ She didn’t even ask! Just made the arrangements.”
We both laugh. “Yeah, Miles’s mom is terrifying, period,” I say.
“Yes, but her children were sweet, even the one you had problems with. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll blend right back in with your friends there.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”
The conversation makes me a little warmer, but once Mom leaves the room, the anxiety kicks back on. I pick up Aqua again. I will need something to comfort me while I’m there, but . . .
No. Even though part of me hurts, I put Aqua back on the dresser with the other relics from my childhood: the collection of seashells and stacks of Maine wildlife books. I throw on one of my volleyball hoodies, plug in my headphones, and head out for an evening run to clear my head. It doesn’t alleviate my stress the same way swimming used to, but I like the reverberation in my muscles as my feet slam concrete, and the way my lungs heave for air. I inhale breaths like I never drowned.
This trip isn’t just about getting over my fear of the water—it’s about growing up.
2
Through the window of the rental sedan, the familiar sight of the sea peeks over the trees. A mirage distorts the view beyond the hood of the car, and it’s impossible to tell where the asphalt ends and the ocean begins. Sun-bleached pines grow farther apart as we reach the coast. We’ve been driving for over seven hours—past the granite mountains, through the dense forests of Maine.
All this time to prepare, but I still don’t know how to feel. Caldwell might be where I was born, but it doesn’t feel like I’m returning home, not the way I had hoped. I’m nervous. I sink in the backseat as the weather-torn sign appears: Caldwell Beach, Population 3,089.
This place has never been a hotspot for tourists like other coastal towns in Maine. Maybe it’s the undying morning fog, or the way the wind howls through the mountains late at night—but it’s one road in, one road out, forgotten by the rest of the world. Nothing more than where people go to outrun their pasts, where the rich cling to old estates, or where fishermen go to live out the rest of their days and die in solitude.
My parents came here for a fresh start. They’ve told me the story a million times, how they found each other at the Met in New York City, at an exhibit centered on the sea. They both dreamed of ocean air and clear skies. No light pollution to block out the stars. When my mom got pregnant, they made a decision: they would move somewhere remote, raise me to love nature, and live a happy life. And that was exactly what I had.
None of us could have anticipated how this place would affect me, least of all me.
Dad whistles from behind the wheel. “Been a long time since we’ve seen this, huh, Liv?”
I nod but say nothing. Mom glances at me from the passenger side, and her stare lingers before she perks up. “Oh look, Livvie, Roger and Keely are already here!”
On the side of the road, Keely hops up and down as we pull into the carpool lot. As freaked out as I am to be back, Keely Myers has been my anchor since our parents introduced us as playmates in preschool. We were the type of friends who operated as a single unit; we always looked for the prettiest butterflies, but showed them off to our classmates together instead of competing. She visits me every summer, but now, for the first time, I get to visit her.
Sand and stone crunch beneath the wheels as Dad parks the car. Outside, the ocean air envelops me. The warmth from land blends with the cool breeze from the Atlantic. It’s the smell of sulfur, salt, and sunscreen. My childhood.
“Liv!” Keely’s body slams into mine. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I breathe in the scent of vanilla-pineapple on her curly hair. “I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Keely grabs both my hands.
I look up at her. “Wait, how freaking tall are you? You’re a giant!”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Five ten.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Keely glows, like she has the sun’s glitter speckled on her copper brown skin. “I randomly hit a growth spurt this year, and now I’m like, the tallest girl in school.”
“Wow, jealous.”
While my parents talk to Keely’s dad, I look out at the town that descends the cliffs, the buildings all boxlike and multihued. They remind me of a coloring book scribbled on by a kid who can’t stay within the lines. On the water, sailboats soar to and from the harbor. Seagulls float against the wind. The ocean rocks in its constant, live motion.
Roger puts his hand on Keely’s shoulder while Mom takes the opportunity to trap me in a hug. We don’t have a lot of money, but she always manages to find a way to afford her Chanel Allure perfume. That smell is warm and inviting, an instant antidote to my anxiety—but soon she’ll be hours away from me for the first time in my life.