Top of the pyramid: a cheerleading reference, perhaps. My mom is no cheerleader, that’s for sure. Who are the “boys next door,” though? Is that a metaphor, or the actual boys next door?
Note two:It’s finally over. Only palm trees and white, sandy beaches on the horizon now. Our future is bright and sunny, and I can’t wait for the two of us to start it together. —Drew
I sit with the yearbook open on my lap, stunned.
Palm trees and white, sandy beaches? I’ve heard this exact phrase a hundred times out of my mother’s mouth. It’s her dream. Florida. The reason she agreed to come back to Beauty and save up money—so we could finally get out of New England and move where it’s warm and sunny.
Now I’m convinced this “Drew” is the mystery man I’ve been looking for.
The navy man that Evie’s mom said came back into town.
In the yearbook, he’s talking about starting a future together with my mom. I wonder if that’s just another saccharine yearbook salutation, or if he meant it literally. If hedidmean it, obviously it didn’t happen. She didn’t start any kind of future with someone named Drew from high school.
She went to art school. Met my dad. Got pregnant. Dropped out of college. Moved back in with my grandma and had me. Lived here until I was twelve, then the time bomb exploded with Mom and Grandma.
End of story. At least, that’s what I always thought.
What really happened to my mom in Beauty?
PREVENT BOAT THEFT—LOCK YOUR CABIN: Sign posted on an unnamed boating pier between historic district and South Harbor. Though Beauty prides itself on a low crime rate, boat theft remains a problem.(Personal photo/Josephine Saint-Martin)
Chapter 17
“Air. I need … fresh air,” Lucky says as we exit my apartment and step onto the rickety back stairs, closing the door behind us. Moths flutter around a bulb that shines a spotlight of yellow on the steps leading down into the dark alley behind the Nook. “I mean, is it just me, or was that the most awkward, tensest movie night of your entire life?”
“I thoughtParasitewas amazing,” I say, feigning innocence. “Bong Joon Ho is a brilliant director and the cinematography was excellent.”
He gives me a pointed look.
Yeah,that. Not a great movie night inla Maison de Saint-Martin.
Pizza: not good.
Evie: not good.
Mom and Lucky … well, remarkably okay, actually.
But everything else was tense. Very tense. “There is a reasonfor Evie’s mood, and it had nothing to do with a fast-paced plot of revenge,” I tell Lucky. “I’m sorry, but there was no good point to tell you this, because Mom kept hogging the conversation, so I could never get you alone—”
“She’s warming up to my dark charms,” he says, one side of his mouth curling.
“This is serious.”
“Clearly. Got a serious vibe between you and Evie, for sure.”
“That’s because before you showed up,” I say in a low voice, just in case Mom is listening in the kitchen, “I caught Adrian Summers in Evie’s bed.”
Black lashes slowly blink at me. “Um … as in—”
“Yeah,”I say, hugging myself. “Like, half naked. And we had a short argument, during which he basically denied throwing the crowbar at the boatyard window, but in one of those wink-wink kinds of ways? And Evie was completely embarrassed. And I nearly told him that I’m the one who threw the rock at the department store window—”
“You better be joking right now,” he says, brow lowering.
“But I caught myself in time! It’s okay. I covered it up.” I think.
“Josie.”
“It’s fine.”
