The Last Song Page 11

  After she'd finished eating--and once Jonah had been placated--Ronnie retired to her room. Steve followed with some towels that he draped over the curtain rod, not that Ronnie needed them. She fell asleep almost immediately and woke up sweating in midafternoon. After a long, cool shower, she stopped by the workshop to tell her dad and Jonah what she was going to do. Still no mention of punishment from her dad.

  It was possible, of course, that he'd ground her later, after he talked to the officer or her mom. Or maybe he'd been telling the truth--maybe he'd believed her when she'd said she was innocent.

  Wouldn't that be something?

  Either way, she had to talk to Blaze, and she spent the next couple of hours searching for her. She checked Blaze's mom's house and the diner, and though she didn't go inside, she peeked through the windows of the music shop, heart thumping, making sure the manager had his back turned. Blaze wasn't there, either.

  Standing on the pier, she scanned up and down the beach, without luck. It was possible, of course, that Blaze had gone to Bower's Point; it was a favorite hangout of Marcus's gang. But she didn't want to go there alone. The last thing she wanted was to see him, let alone try to talk some sense into Blaze while he was around.

  She was just about ready to give up and go home when she spotted Blaze emerging from between the dunes a little ways down the beach. She raced back to the steps, making sure not to lose sight of her, then hurried down to the beach. If Blaze noticed that Ronnie was walking toward her, she gave no sign of caring. Instead, as Ronnie got close she took a seat on the dune and stared out over the water.

  "You have to tell the police what you did," Ronnie said without preamble.

  "I didn't do anything. And you're the one who got caught."

  Ronnie felt like shaking her. "You put those forty-fives and CDs in my bag!"

  "No, I didn't."

  "The CDs were the ones you were listening to!"

  "And the last time I saw them, they were still by the headphones." Blaze refused to face her.

  Ronnie felt the blood beginning to rush to her cheeks. "This is serious, Blaze. This is my life. I can get convicted of a felony! And I told you what happened before!"

  "Oh, well."

  Ronnie pressed her lips together to keep from exploding. "Why are you doing this to me?"

  Blaze got up from her spot, brushing the sand from her jeans. "I'm not doing anything to you," she said. Her voice was cold and flat. "And that's exactly what I told the police this morning."

  In disbelief, Ronnie watched Blaze walk off, acting almost as though she actually believed it.

  Ronnie walked back to the pier.

  She didn't want to return home, knowing that as soon as her dad talked to Officer Pete, he'd learn what Blaze had said. Yeah, maybe he'd still be cool about the whole thing--but what if he didn't believe her?

  And why was Blaze doing this? Because of Marcus? Either Marcus talked her into it because he was mad about the way Ronnie had rejected him the other night, or Blaze believed that Ronnie was trying to steal her boyfriend. Right now, she was leaning toward the latter, but in the end, it didn't really matter. Whatever her motivation, Blaze was lying and more than willing to ruin Ronnie's life.

  She hadn't eaten since breakfast, but with her stomach in knots, she wasn't hungry. Instead, she sat on the pier until the sun went down, watching the water turn from blue to gray and then finally charcoal. She wasn't alone: Along the pier, people were fishing, though as far as she could tell, nothing much seemed to be biting. An hour ago, a young couple had shown up with sandwiches and a kite. She noticed the tender way they stared at each other. She figured they were in college--they were only a couple of years older than her--but there was an easy affection between them that she had yet to experience in any of her own relationships. Yeah, she'd had boyfriends, but she'd never been in love, and sometimes she doubted whether she ever would be. After her parents divorced, she'd been kind of cynical about the whole thing, as had most of her friends. Most of their parents were divorced as well, so maybe that had something to do with it.

  When the last rays of the sun were fading from the sky, she started toward home. She wanted to be back at a decent hour tonight. It was the least she could do to show her dad that she appreciated how understanding he'd been. And despite her earlier nap, she was still tired.

  When she reached the head of the pier, she opted to walk through the business district instead of along the beach. As soon as she rounded the corner near the diner, she knew she'd made the wrong decision. A shadowy figure leaned against the hood of a car, holding a fireball.

  Marcus.

  Only this time he was alone. She stopped, feeling her breath catch in her throat.

  He pushed off the car and walked toward her, the play of streetlights casting his face half in shadow. He rolled the fireball over the back of his hand, watching her, before the ball ended up back in his fist. He squeezed his hand, extinguishing it, and started toward her.

  "Hi, Ronnie," he said. His smile made him seem even creepier.

  She stayed in place, wanting him to see that she wasn't afraid of him. Even though she sort of was.

  "What do you want?" she demanded, hating the slight quiver in her voice.

  "I saw you walking and thought I'd say hello."

  "You did," she said. "Bye."

  She started to move past him, but he stepped in front of her.

  "I hear you're having troubles with Blaze," he whispered.

  She leaned back, her skin crawling. "What do you know about it?"

  "I know enough not to trust her."

  "I'm not in the mood for this."

  Again she turned, making her way around him, and this time he let her pass before calling out to her.

  "Don't walk away. I came to find you because I wanted you to know that I might just be able to talk her out of what she's doing to you."

  Despite herself, Ronnie hesitated. In the dim light, Marcus stared at her.

  "I should have warned you she gets pretty jealous."

  "Which is why you tried to make it worse, huh?"

  "I was just making a joke that night. I thought it was funny. Do you think I had any idea what she would do to you?"

  Of course you did, Ronnie thought. And it was exactly what you wanted.

  "So fix it," she said. "Talk to Blaze, do whatever you have to do."

  He shook his head. "You didn't hear me. I said I might be able to talk some sense into her. If..."

  "If what?"

  He closed the gap between them. The streets, she noticed, were quiet. No one else around, no cars in the intersection.

  "I was thinking we could be... friends."

  She felt her cheeks flush again, and the word came out before she could stop it. "What?"

  "You heard me. And I can clear all this up."

  She realized he was close enough to touch her, and she took a sudden step backward. "Just stay away from me!"

  She turned and ran, knowing he would follow, conscious that he knew the area better than she did, terrified that he would catch her. She could feel her heart pounding, she could hear her own frantic breaths.

  Her house wasn't far, but she wasn't in shape. Despite the fear and rush of adrenaline, she could feel her legs getting heavier. She knew she couldn't keep it up, and as she made a turn, she chanced a look back over her shoulder.

  And realized that she was alone on the street, no one behind her at all.

  Back at her house, Ronnie didn't go inside right away. The light was on in the living room, but she wanted to regain her composure before she faced her dad. For whatever reason, she didn't want him to see how scared she'd been, so she took a seat on the steps of the front porch.

  Above her, the stars were out in full, the moon floating near the horizon. The scent of salt and brine rode on the mist from the ocean, a vaguely primordial smell. In another context, she might have found something soothing about it; right now, it felt as foreign as everything else.

&
nbsp; First Blaze. Then Marcus. She wondered if everyone was crazy down here.

  Marcus certainly was. Well, maybe not technically--he was intelligent, cunning, and, as far as she could tell, completely without empathy, the kind of person who thought only about himself and what he wanted. Last fall, in her English class, she'd had to read a novel by a contemporary author, and she'd chosen The Silence of the Lambs. In the book, she'd learned that the central character, Hannibal Lecter, wasn't psychopathic, he was sociopathic; it was the first time she'd realized there was a difference between the two. Though Marcus wasn't a murdering cannibal, she had the feeling he and Hannibal were more similar than different, at least in the way they viewed the world and their role in it.

  Blaze, though... she was just...

  Ronnie wasn't sure exactly. Controlled by her emotions, certainly. Angry and jealous, too. But in the day they'd spent together, she'd never gotten the feeling that something was wrong with the girl, aside from being an emotional wreck, a tornado of hormones and immaturity that left destruction in her wake.

  She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She really didn't want to go inside. In her mind, she could already hear the conversation.

  Hey, sweetie, how did it go?

  Not too well. Blaze is completely under the spell of a manipulative sociopath and lied to the cops this morning, so I'm going to jail. And by the way? The sociopath not only decided he wants to sleep with me, but he followed me and practically scared me to death. How did your day go?

  Not exactly the pleasant after-dinner chitchat he probably wanted to have, even if it was the truth.

  Which meant she would have to fake it. Sighing, she heaved herself up from the porch steps and headed for the door.

  Inside, her dad sat on the couch, a dog-eared Bible open in front of him. He closed it as she walked in.

  "Hey, sweetie, how did it go?"

  Figured.

  She forced a quick smile, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "I didn't have a chance to talk to her," she said.

  *

  It was hard to act normal, but somehow she pulled it off. As soon as she got inside, her dad had encouraged her to follow him to the kitchen, where he had made another pasta dish--tomatoes, eggplant, squash, and zucchini over penne. They ate in the kitchen while Jonah put together a Lego Star Wars outpost, something that Pastor Harris had brought him when he'd dropped by to say hello earlier.

  Afterward, they settled in the living room, and sensing she wasn't in the mood to talk, her dad read his Bible while she read Anna Karenina, a book her mom had sworn she would love. Though the book seemed okay, Ronnie couldn't concentrate on it. Not only because of Blaze and Marcus, but because her dad was reading the Bible. Thinking back, she realized she'd never seen him do that before. Then again, she thought, maybe he had and she'd just never noticed.

  Jonah finished building his Lego contraption and announced he was going to bed. She gave him a few minutes, hoping he'd be asleep before she entered the room, then put aside her book and rose from the couch.

  "Good night, sweetheart," her dad said. "I know it hasn't been easy for you, but I'm glad you're here."

  She paused before crossing the room toward him. Leaning over, and for the first time in three years, she kissed him on the cheek.

  "Good night, Dad."

  In the darkened bedroom, Ronnie took a seat on her bed, feeling drained. Though she didn't want to cry--she hated when she cried--she couldn't seem to stop the sudden rush of emotions. She drew a ragged breath.

  "Go ahead and cry," she heard Jonah whisper.

  Great, she thought. Just what she needed.

  "I'm not crying," she said.

  "You sound like you're crying."

  "I'm not."

  "It's okay. It doesn't bother me."

  Ronnie sniffled, trying to get herself under control, and reached under her pillow for the pajamas she'd stashed earlier. Pressing them close to her chest, she stood up to go to the bathroom to change. On her way, she happened to glance out the window. The moon had ascended in the sky, making the sand glow silver, and when she turned in the direction of the turtle nest, she detected a sudden movement in the shadows.

  After sniffing the air, the raccoon started toward the nest, protected only by yellow caution tape.

  "Oh, crap!"

  She threw down her pajamas and raced out of the bedroom. As she bolted through the living room and kitchen, she vaguely heard her dad shouting, "What's wrong?" But she was already out the door before she could answer. Cresting the dune, she began screaming as she waved her arms.

  "No! Stop! Go away!!"

  The raccoon raised its head, then quickly scurried away. It vanished over the dune into the saw grass.

  "What's going on? What happened?"

  Turning, she saw her dad and Jonah standing on the porch.

  "They didn't put up the cage!"

  13

  Will

  The doors of Blakelee Brakes had been open only for ten minutes when Will saw her push through the lobby doors and head directly into the service center.

  Wiping his hands on a towel, he started toward her.

  "Hey," he said, smiling. "I didn't expect to see you here."

  "Thanks for nothing!" she snapped.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I asked you to do one simple thing! Just make a call to have the cage put up! But you couldn't even do that!"

  "Wait... what's going on?" He blinked.

  "I told you I saw a raccoon! I told you a raccoon was coming around the nest!"

  "Did something happen to the nest?"

  "Like you even care. What? Did your volleyball game make you forget?"

  "I just want to know if the nest is okay."

  She continued to glare at him. "Yeah. It's fine. No thanks to you." She turned on her heels and stormed toward the exit.

  "Wait!" he shouted. "Hold on!"

  She ignored him, leaving Will shocked and rooted in place as she pounded through the small lobby and out the front door.

  "What the hell was that all about?"

  Over his shoulder, Will realized Scott was staring at him from behind the lift.

  "Do me a favor," Will called to him.

  "What do you need?"

  He fished his keys out of his pocket and started toward the truck he'd parked out back. "Cover for me. I've got to take care of something."

  Scott took a quick step forward. "Wait! What are you talking about?"

  "I'll be back as soon as I can. If my dad comes in, tell him I'll be right back. You can get things started while I'm gone."

  "Where you going?" Scott called.

  This time Will didn't answer, and Scott took a step toward him.

  "C'mon, man! I don't want to do this alone! We've got a ton of cars to work on."

  Will didn't care, and once out of the bay, he jogged toward his truck, knowing where he needed to go.

  He found her at the dune an hour later, standing beside the nest, still as angry as she'd been when she'd shown up at the brake shop.

  Seeing him approach, she put her hands on her hips. "What do you want?"

  "You didn't let me finish. I did call."

  "Sure you did."

  He inspected the nest. "The nest is fine. What's the big deal?"

  "Yeah, it's fine. No thanks to you."

  Will felt a ripple of irritation. "What's your problem?"

  "My problem is that I had to sleep outside again last night because the raccoon came back. The same raccoon I told you about!"

  "You slept outside?"

  "Do you ever listen to anything I say? Yes, I had to sleep outside. Two nights in a row, because you won't do your job! If I hadn't been looking out the window at exactly the right moment, the raccoon would have gotten the eggs. He wasn't more than a couple of feet away from the nest when I finally scared him away. And then I had to stay out here because I knew he was going to come back. Which is why I asked you to call in the first place! And I a
ssumed that even a beach bum like yourself could remember to do your job!"

  She stared at him, hands on her hips again, as if trying to annihilate him with her death ray vision.

  He couldn't resist. "One more time, so I have the story straight: You saw a raccoon, then you wanted me to call, then you saw a raccoon again. And you ended up sleeping outside. Is that right?"

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then, whirling away, she made a beeline for her house.

  "They're coming first thing tomorrow!" he called out. "And just to let you know, I did call. Twice, in fact. Once right after I put up the tape, and once more after I got off work. How many times do I have to say this before you'll listen?"

  Though she stopped, she still wouldn't face him. He went on, "And then this morning, after you left, I went straight to the director of the aquarium and spoke to him in person. He said that this nest will be their first stop in the morning. That they would have come today, but there are eight nests on Holden Beach."

  She slowly turned around and studied him, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth.

  "That doesn't help my turtles tonight, does it?"

  "Your turtles?"

  "Yeah," she said. Her tone was emphatic. "My house. My turtles."

  And with that, she turned and went back to her house, this time without caring that he was still there.

  He liked her; it was as simple as that.

  On his way back to work, he still wasn't sure why he liked her, but never once had he left work to chase after Ashley. Every time he'd seen her, she'd managed to surprise him. He liked the way she said what was on her mind, and he liked how unfazed she was by him. Ironically, he'd yet to leave a good impression. First he'd spilled soda on her, next she'd seen him almost involved in a riot, and then this morning she'd believed him to be either lazy or an idiot.

  No problem, of course. She wasn't a friend and he didn't really know her... but for whatever reason, he cared what she thought about him. And not only did he care, but crazy as it sounded, he wanted her to have a good impression of him. Because he wanted her to like him, too.

  It was an odd experience, a new one for him, and the rest of the day at the shop--working through lunch to make up for the time he'd missed--he found his thoughts returning to her. He felt that there was something genuine in the way she spoke and acted, something caring and kind beneath the brittle facade. Something that let him know that while he'd disappointed her to this point, there was, with her, always a chance for redemption.