“Hey, look at that, I was right. Perfect fit. You look real cute, Heatstroke. Last one in has to buy lunch tomorrow.” She bolted toward the waves.
Beating her to the water, knowing how cold it would be and still diving head-first into a crashing wave proved to be either the bravest or dumbest thing he’d ever done for anyone.
The icy water attacked his flesh like a bazillion tiny, hate-filled blow darts from an indigenous tribe.
Your kind is not welcome here. Leave now or we will make it much worse for you and your friend.
Rocky exploded out of the salty water, slicked his long bangs out of his face and crossed his arms in a vain attempt to appease his frozen flesh. Goose pimples popped up like white flags to the hateful Tribe of Cold Ocean.
November’s laugh made it easier to stand there shivering to death. The fact that she stood there clapping from the shore filled him with another urge: revenge.
“Oh, I see,” he said through his already chattering teeth.
“No, no…” she said, raising one palm between them.
Rocky was too fast, and she was too busy laughing. He bolted from the sea and had her over his shoulder in seconds. He didn’t send her in alone; he was courteous enough to join her as he tossed her to the waves and dove in for another round of attacks from the Tribe of Cold Ocean.
She was already up when he stood.
Shivering, her dark lips quivering before his own, she gazed into his eyes like someone searching for a soul. They were kissing before his brain could find a chance to ruin the moment. Fireworks exploded behind them, lighting up the sky to applause and oohs and ahhs from the entire population. You couldn’t have scripted this any better. It felt like the world was sharing in the greatest moment of his life.
When their lips parted and their eyes locked, gravity abandoned, he was lost in the dark space of her gaze.
“Wow, Rocky, you’re a pretty good kisser.”
“Thanks. So are you.”
“I’m freezing.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She stepped forward. He pursed his lips, ready for another kiss, when he felt her leg behind his. She shoved him backward and bolted for the shore as his back hit the water.
He scrambled to his feet, but she was already at her clothes.
“I owe you lunch tomorrow,” she yelled back. “Meet me at the pier.”
He started for the shore as she sprinted away, pulling her shirt on as she took off.
“Oh man, am I in trouble,” he said. “Big trouble.”
The fireworks continued going off overhead. The thought occurred to him that Palace Playland waited until nine fifteen or so to set them off on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. It was dark already. He’d made his mom a promise.
He threw on his t-shirt, tossed his jeans over his shoulder, hopped into his sneakers, and headed for home.
It hit him as he reached the square. After they kissed, she’d called him by his name. The smile dropped when he looked over at the pay-to-piss potty where he’d left his back brace.
“Oh shit.”
He hurried over and tried the door. It wouldn’t budge, but at least it was still locked. He glanced around. Who the hell did he ask to help get the door open?
Serious anxiety cinched his insides as he scanned the crowd for help. There was a cop over at the DQ.
He was gonna feel like an idiot, but touching his lips and remembering her kiss, it was totally worth it.
“Hi, Officer Nelson,” he said.
“Hey, kid, what can I do for you?”
Pete Nelson was kind of a jerk to most of the kids Rocky knew, but he was always super nice to Rocky, because Uncle Arthur had helped Officer Nelson fix an old snowmobile a couple winters back. Rocky had even seen him from time to time drinking beers with his uncle on the stoop.
“I need your help. I kind of locked something important in one of the pay-to-piss porta potties.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before,” he said. “But you’re in luck.”
* * *
Officer Nelson knew the guy at the Seaside Motel, Gordon something or other, and fortunately, Gordon oversaw the crapping facilities.
It was ten o’clock by the time he walked in the front door.
Motley Crue had a song called ‘Looks That Kill’ and the expression on his mother’s face held his death sentence.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I told you to be home by dark. You had me worried sick,” she said, arms crossed over her chest. Dad came up behind her.
“You just bought yourself a day’s worth of chores,” his father said.
“Dad,” he whined.
“Never mind,” he said, waving Rocky off before he could plead his case. “Give your mother a hug and then go to your room.”
When his father busted out never mind, it was useless to resist. The Force was strong with this one.
He hugged his mother.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she whispered.
“I won’t. Promise.”
She let go, crossed her arms again, and nodded toward the hall. “Go.”
His father was already planted in front of the TV; Clint Eastwood’s Escape from Alcatraz was playing from the VCR.
Rocky only hoped that fate was nicer to him than it had been to Frank Morris.
Chapter Four
Her hair dripped as she hurried down the beach. She didn’t feel bad about leaving Rocky behind. There would be time for them, but she couldn’t risk being out with him at night for too long. Gabriel could be anywhere. Her brother wasn’t exactly what you would consider the approving type.
Her family wasn’t like other families.
After spending years hiding away from society, her father and mother moved to Ohio and had her brother, Gabriel. Eight years later, she came along. Their father passed when she was ten. Gabriel was barely eighteen when he eagerly took over as the patriarch of the household, moved them northeast and dropped the demand that they stay in the shadows.
Mother drifted into a depression. She slept most days, and nights were spent in her room. She was slow to warm to Gabriel’s more open ideas of living, but eventually she gave in and agreed that blending into the small community was best for all of them.
Gabriel enrolled November at school and made sure that she got a proper education. She wasn’t permitted to bring friends home, but between her mother and TV, she really didn’t care about people outside the four walls of their new home in Aroostook, Maine.