“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Awful,” Everleigh said without missing a beat. “Whoever owned this car probably never gave it a tune-up in his entire life.”
“Or her entire life,” Beacon said.
She rolled out from under the car. There was grease smeared under her eyes.
“A girl wouldn’t be that dumb.” She got up and wiped her hands on her sweatpants.
“Mr. Murray doesn’t mind you doing all this?” Beacon said, gesturing at the shiny car.
She made a noise like psshh. “He’s lucky I offered. He’ll be able to sell this thing for over Bluebook once I’m done with it.”
“Are you done with it?” he asked hopefully. “I was thinking we could explore the town. I saw a weird store called Tonkin’s Bait Shop and Antiques. There was a cat plate in the window.”
“Not even close,” Everleigh said.
Beacon’s shoulders dropped, even though he’d kind of known she was going to say that. “Can’t you take a break?”
“I have way too much to do here. We start school tomorrow, so this might be my last chance to get lots of work in. It’s not easy refurbishing a car, you know.”
Beacon sighed. He almost mentioned how she never went to school anyway, so he didn’t see why that mattered. But he could tell he wasn’t about to change her mind anytime soon, so he didn’t bother. The thought of checking out the bait shop by himself didn’t seem half as appealing.
“Sorry, Beaks,” Everleigh said. “Check back in an hour.”
“Great. Awesome.” Beacon hopped off the car, but he froze when he spotted a head of bright blond, almost white hair through a gap in the wire fence. His heart lodged in his throat. Jane weaved down the cobbled sidewalk with three other kids in Gold Stars jackets. Tinkling laughter floated on the breeze.
“Where are you going?” Everleigh asked distantly as she watched him vault over the fence. But Beacon didn’t stop to answer his sister. He had to see her. He had to see for himself.
Beacon raced up the sidewalk and grabbed Jane’s shoulder. She snapped around, yanking her arm away with the most affronted look on her face.
“Do you mind?” she spat.
Beacon opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stared at the girl and her perfect curled hair and expertly applied lip gloss. She didn’t look the least bit as if she’d been struggling for her life mere hours before.
Jane stared back at him. Her bright blue eyes flared with anger.
“What’s the problem out here?” Everleigh asked, jogging up.
“What’s his problem?” Jane said. “He practically attacked me!”
A Gold Star with sleek black hair down to her chin nodded in agreement.
“We should report him to the police,” the boy from yesterday with the wiry black curls—Nixon—said. Perry, the jockish one, started to pull out a phone, but Jane stayed him with a hand.
“I-I’m sorry,” Beacon finally managed. “I thought . . .” His words trailed off. He didn’t really know what he’d thought. Jane was here. She was fine, and he was obviously wrong about what he’d seen in the ocean.
“I know what you thought,” Jane said, crossing her arms. “Because I was woken up in the middle of the night by a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Pardon me,” Everleigh said, without an ounce of apology in her tone. “The next time he sees someone drowning in the ocean he’ll just roll over and go back to bed.”
“Your brother sees people who aren’t there all the time?” Jane said. “Maybe he should get that checked out.”
Nixon bit off a snicker, while the rest of the Gold Stars just stared. Beacon wondered what had happened to their great manners. If only his dad could see them now.
“Unless you have any other death hoaxes you’d like to accuse me of, we’d like to get back to our shopping,” Jane said. The four students turned around and walked away without so much as a backward glance at Beacon and Everleigh.
“What a weirdo,” he heard Nixon mutter.
A creeping, prickling heat climbed up Beacon’s cheeks. He watched their retreating backs, the blue-and-gold logo on their jackets shining dully in the pale afternoon sunlight. The same jacket he could have sworn he saw on Jane last night in the water.
Everleigh put a hand on Beacon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. They’re a bunch of small-minded losers. Come on. I’ll go to that bait shop with you.”
“I know she was in the water,” Beacon said.
When she didn’t answer, Beacon turned to his sister. Everleigh was pointedly not meeting his eyes.
“What?” he said defensively.
“Nothing,” she said.
“What happened to I believe you, and You’re not a liar?” Beacon demanded.
“I do, and you’re not,” she said. “But—”
“But what?”
She sighed and rubbed her forehead, smearing around the grease on her face. “Beaks, I know you’re embarrassed about what happened, but it’s okay . . .”
Beacon ground his jaw. He’d had enough.
“Come back, Beaks! Where are you going?” Everleigh called.
Beacon stormed down the street with his skateboard tucked up under his arm. He was sick of everyone treating him like he was crazy. Sick of everyone babying him. And okay, maybe he was a little embarrassed, too.
He trudged past the pier, the cool, salty air blowing off the water and bringing with it the distinct smell of fish.
He hated fish. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t really like lobster, either.
The water lapped against the wooden support beams as fishermen called orders to one another in thick, guttural accents. He walked past tiny clapboard-sided houses separated by larger and larger fields of tall yellow grass hemmed in by barbed wire fencing. He’d never seen so many wide-open spaces before, without any people in sight. It seemed like a giant waste of land, if you asked him.
Beacon walked for so long that eventually, he realized he’d left the ocean path behind. He was in the middle of a forest of tightly packed trees.
Beacon’s eyes darted around him, his heart beating in his ears.
How did he get here? Wherever here even was. He remembered walking along the path . . . but not to here.
Yesterday’s storm had stripped some of the trees, and leaves and bark and twigs were scattered across the forest floor. The ground was damp and squishy, like walking on a wet sponge. A mist wove through the trees, dampness and decay heavy in the air.