I straighten up and brush my hair out of my face. “I couldn’t sleep,” I say, trying to sound light but realizing I’m still feeling bitter.
Luke kicks at a rock, looks at me, then up at the sky. The moon is a bright slice, almost like a smile, taunting us.
“It’s been a while since I’ve snuck out,” he admits. “But I had to see you. I feel bad about today.” He’s nervous, bouncing his weight side to side. “Wanna walk?” He tips his head toward downtown, and I nod. We’re quiet as we head down Beach Rose Lane. The peepers are even louder out here, and the tunnel of trees makes it feel like we’re inside a terrarium. We leave a little space between us but keep pace, occasionally bumping into each other as we avoid potholes.
I let the silence stay. It feels good just to walk.
We end up at the old marina. There are a few abandoned buildings on this end of town that have always been that way, but one of them should be an ice cream spot with my favorite cherry chocolate chip.
“I’m so bummed Frappie’s went out of business,” I say, stopping in front of the window. Through a thick layer of dust, I can just make out the painted sundaes that decorate the glass.
“Yeah, it closed just before last summer.” He steps back and looks up and down the dilapidated area. “It’s sad. It’s such an iconic building, it could be something cool.”
I look up past the brokenFrappie’ssign to the long, high windows, which are reflecting the stars. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Luke says, but his eyes are following mine, and I can see him thinking, making plans, inventing futures. “This part of town always struggles,” he adds. “It feels like things always close, and nothing takes their place. I worry that someone with a lot of money will come in and tear it all down, put up some fancy condos or something.”
“Oh, don’t say that.” I feel a deep, aching sadness that anything in Northport might change. “Sometimes things come back. Or new things come around that honor the old ones.”
“Or both,” Luke says, smiling sadly at me. “Anyway, somebody should save all these historic buildings.”
I get the sense that bysomebody, he means him. I sigh and shove his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. He pretends to stumble over, but he’s back quickly. He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I’m really sorry for being such an asshole earlier today at the blood drive.” The admission seems to let all the airout of the tension between us. Breathing is suddenly easier. “If you like Jackson, then he’s probably cool.” He takes a deep breath. “Even though five hundred dollars’ worth of raffle tickets was a show-off move.”
I laugh a little. He’s right about that. “Thanks,” I say, squeezing his hand back. “I appreciate it.”
“Wanna go in?” Luke says, pulling me to the front door of the closed shop.
I look skeptically at the broken door handle. “Won’t it be locked?”
He reaches out with his free hand and pushes. The door swings right in. It creaks loudly, just like it used to, and reminds me of childhood, of the promise of sweets.
“Guess not. Come on.”
I follow Luke inside the dark building, and push the door closed behind us. The skeleton of Frappie’s sits shrouded in dust. The little two-top tables have been pushed to the left, and the sprinkle-colored chairs are on top of them, leaving the tiled center wide open, almost like a dance floor. Most of the ice cream and maritime decorations have been taken off the walls, so what’s left is the sturdy frame of what was probably an old fish market or boat storage. The high casement windows let in the diffused moonlight, and the room glows white and blue like we’re underwater. I drop Luke’s hand and walk over to the counter. I hop up and swing my feet to the other side. I land in a pile of old empty ice cream cups, then turn to face Luke.
“Welcome to Frappie’s, home of the Cape’s best homemade sprinkles and hot fudge. What can I get you?”
“Chocolate peanut butter with a cherry dip, please.”
“Ew,” I say, wrinkling my nose at him. “Unfortunately we don’t have that because it’s a terrible choice.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he says. He looks around the space, taking it all in. “Hey, where do you think that ladder goes?” He points behind me.
I turn around and shrug. “The roof, probably.”
Luke hops the counter, too, and tries the low rungs. “Seems sturdy.”
“Careful,” I say as he quickly climbs to the top.
“There’s a door,” he calls down. He pushes it until it swings open with a screech. “Whoa,” he calls down. “Come up here! The view is great. You can see so many stars.”
I look at the ladder and the twenty or so feet I’ll need to climb. I’ve never been afraid of heights, but for some reason this makes me anxious.
“The ladder is wicked sturdy,” Luke calls from above. “Don’t worry.”
I take a deep breath, grab the rungs at eye level, and start climbing. The ladder is indeed very solid, but my hands are sweaty. About halfway up I suddenly wish I’d left my backpack down below because it’s feeling very heavy. I pause and take a long, slow breath as my heart skips around a bit from my nerves. I take the last few rungs quickly and heave myself through the door and onto the roof.
I stand up, shake off my weird nerves, and finally look up.
