1
1
KEEKEE
Light filters through the trees and onto the sand, onto us. Eve and Nia toss a beach ball between each other, trying to avoid the thick bar of seaweed that snakes between shore and water, while I sit on the sand. Faith and Toons are calf-deep in the sea. It’s Friday, but it could be any day, any year. We’re always here. Pinder Point isn’t much—the sand is more gray than dazzling white, the water gets choppy often, and outcroppings of rock appear and vanish with the tides, so jet skiers don’t come here to stunt. Then again, all we need is someplace to kick off our shoes, to wet our feet, maybe our hair. I recline on my elbows and let myself sink into the sand. “Heads up!” Eve hollers, and I duck as the ball just misses my head. I look past Nia at my brother, who’s trying to pick Faith up and toss her into the water. Her long, bare legs scissor the air as she squeals in unconvincing protest. I open my mouth to ask him why he’s all over her today.
“Ay! Beach closed.”
I turn to see a guy on the sand behind us, hands on his hips. He wears a T-shirt tucked into snug jeans and a baseball cap shields his face.
“Y’all deaf?” he shouts. “Beach closed!”
Toons lets go of Faith and steps forward until he’s face-to-face with the guy. Baseball Cap matches him—same height, same lean build, maybe even the same age—and blocks his way. “Who you think you is, bey?” My brother’s upward-tilted chin warns of trouble.
The guy doesn’t speak again, but I feel his body tense, as if his muscles lie under my own skin. Toons moves to the left; the guy mirrors him. Moves to the right; the same. Then Baseball Cap reaches down for a plastic bottle of water, his eyes hidden by the shadow of his brim. Tilts it up to his head, Adam’s apple lifting and falling five, six, seven times. A twist of his fingers and the bottle crests through the air, then lands softly on the sand.
Toons turns and walks toward where it lies. The rest of us are frozen in place, watching. He bends down, reaching to pick up the crumpled plastic, but when he straightens up, I see a glint of perfect pearly pink in his hand. His arm draws back, then forward. A conch shell, almost as big as my head, sails through the air. Our gaze arcs as we watch it soar above us, then start to descend, heading straight for Baseball Cap’s head. He ducks just in time, and the shell smacks into a tree trunk behind him and cracks in two.
Then we run.
NIA
My feet pummel the sand, glasses bounce on my face. My heart hurls itself against my chest as I run. The other four are almost at the guava trees, Faith in front, then Toons, with Eve close after, and KeeKee, who can outrun us all but isn’t, because I’m falling behind. I look back; he’s gaining on us, on me, the sharp huh huh of his pant so near I can almost feel his breath on my neck.
“Hurry up, girl!” KeeKee looks back, caught between moving ahead and staying behind, for me. She zigzags and I follow; my foot splats into an overripe guava and my flip-flop sole skids in the slick. I barely regain my balance in time to duck under a low branch in our way. Now he’s almost beside me—my legs are on fire and I can’t push any harder. KeeKee reaches back and her fingers graze mine. I hurl myself forward and as we lock hands, she yanks me between tree trunks and over old leaves. I can’t think, only push, as together, our legs fly. KeeKee pushes a branch aside too fast for me to avoid and it whacks me in the face. I feel an odd lightness as my glasses fly off, and the world blurs.
We spill into the yard and up ahead, the blue truck puffs exhaust as it idles under the hog plum tree. Faith and Eve are already in the back. Toons waves KeeKee and me in as we scramble up, just as the guy rounds the end of the path.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Toons yells. The truck speeds away, like Pinder Street is longer than eight houses on each side of the narrow road. At the intersection, the truck veers right and we bump into each other. Then it accelerates again and the wind muffles all sound. The only things clear to me are the rise and fall of KeeKee’s breath as we lean into each other and the tickle of Toons’ leg as it grazes mine.
Eventually we drop to a steady cruise. Faith says, “That was close, boy.” She keeps doing something with her hair—fiddling, pushing it back—and turning her head toward Toons. Eve hums low. Her soprano notes vibrate my insides.
KeeKee leans closer and whispers, “What you think that was about? You heard anything about the beach?” Her forehead is furrowed with concern. I hesitate, wondering if there’s a way to braid the truth that will soothe her. But she’s already moved on to her next question. “Where are your glasses?”
“They got knocked off,” I say.
“Victim to the chase. We’ll go back.” The truck slows, then turns around in the middle of the street. My mother would not approve, not of a three-point turn on a curve, not of riding in the back of a truck, not of being in a car with Angel and her boyfriend, definitely not of the flutter in my chest and the dampness on my palms when I think about how close Toons is to me. Toons shifts slightly, and now his whole leg presses against mine. Then he leans forward, snatching whatever Faith has been fiddling with on her head, and bats her away as she tries to wrestle it from his grasp. I squint as he settles the thing on his face. Shades. My skin is cool, now, where we touched. KeeKee elbows me gently, then lifts her chin, eyes on Faith and her brother.
“What?”
“Hey, Toons,” KeeKee calls. “How’s Paulette? Your girlfriend?”
I can’t make out their expressions, and before he can answer, we speed up again, and wind roars in our ears. We loop back onto Pinder Street and Faith raps her knuckles on the glass to the truck’s cab. Sammy stops the truck and Faith climbs down easy, her legs slim and muscled in shorts I’d never be allowed to wear. Eve jumps out after her and we glide to the end of the road.
Angel leans out of the passenger window as we pull into the yard. “Y’all come out. We got a run to make.”
“Drop me off by the mall.” Toons stretches out in the space vacated by Eve and Faith. KeeKee climbs out like a gecko, easy, sideways and lithe. Angel beckons KeeKee over to the passenger-side window. As KeeKee leans in, she raises a shoulder to rub her cheek and the motion makes me think of a heron preening itself, effortless and smooth.
“Davinia!” My mother’s voice rings out from across the yard.
“You in trou-uble,” Toons sings out low. KeeKee looks over at me. We don’t trade words—we don’t need to. Her eyes tell me everything I already know. She’s got me.
I climb out and scurry over to my side of the yard. My mother stands in the doorway, her arms folded. “Davinia?” she says again, her tone so tight a gymnast could do backflips along it. In the background, the kitchen radio is on, blaring out the news.
“Hi!” I step inside, trying on a smile that fits my mouth like last summer’s size. “You weren’t looking for me, were you?”
“Don’t you hi me. Whose truck did you get out of just now?”
“Um—KeeKee…” Even half blind, I can see my mother’s face shift into a full-on glower. “Her mummy’s friend.”
“Friend?” She spits the word out like the bitter scab on a fruit’s skin, then sighs, looking down at my feet. I imagine the grains of sand on my calves, a smear of squashed guava and shards of pine needle and tall grass telling tales of where I’ve been. She looks back up at my face, tilting her head to one side. “Where are your glasses?”