They slouch together out to the porch and sit for a minute. Itisfoggy. They can scarcely see the water from here, and if a boat were to glide by they wouldn’t see that either. They can hear the foghorn on the Rockland breakwater.
Through the fog Matty thinks he sees movement on the rocks. Claire sees it too. She stands. “Someone’s down there,” she says. “I’m going to see.”
“Don’t—” says Matty. He’s thinking of the dead seal. Why isn’t Claire thinking of it; why isn’t she scared to push her way through the fog? Reluctantly, he rises and follows her.
The fog begins to part like a curtain, the way fog sometimes does in Maine, and now Claire can see more clearly. There’s a girl on the rocks: there’s a girl ontheirrocks. Claire scampers over the rocks nimbly, fearlessly, and Matty does his best to keep up.
For a moment, brother and sister study the girl: a stranger, an interloper. Phone in the back pocket of her short-shorts, ridiculous platform flip-flops. Stick-straight hair, the finest, palest blond, a nose that turns up slightly, deliciously, at the end. A strappy tank top, out of which rise actual breasts, the real deal. She’s a very pretty girl.
“Who are you?” says Claire, combatively. She feels like another species in her pajama pants, with her Hogwarts pride T-shirt, with her bare feet.
“Hello to you too,” says the girl merrily. “I’m Hazel.” There’s a slight southern drawl to her voice,I’mbecomingA’hm. It’s beautiful.”
“Where’d you come from?” demands Claire.
“Nashville.”
“But right now, today. Where’d you come from right now?”
Matty can’t say anything. His voice has vanished. His heart is pulsing.
Hazel jerks her head away from the water. “My grandparents live up the road. My grandma works for your grandma.”
“Pauline? Pauline is your grandma?” Matty can’t square Pauline, with her long gray braid, the thin set of her mouth, and this lovely creature before him.
Hazel nods.
“How come we’ve never met you before, then?” Claire challenges. “We’re here every summer. This is our very favorite place in the whole world. We grew up coming here. It’s in our blood.” This last part is a slightly edited version of something she’s heard her mother say. “And we’ve never metyoubefore.”
“My mom and my grandma don’t get along so good,” the girl says. “I’m not always invited. But this time, my mama didn’t know what to do with me. So here I am.” She shrugs.
Here you are,thinks Matty.
“I’d be careful here, if I were you,” Claire says authoritatively. “I found a dead body here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Aseal’sbody,” Matty corrects, and Claire glares at him.
“My grandma told me about that,” says Hazel. She smiles. She has braces, which somehow make her even more beautiful. “That must have been scary.”
“Not really,” says Claire. “Not for me.”
“Well then,” says Hazel. “I guess you’re very brave.” She smiles harder, and dimples pop out in her cheeks. “My granddad works pulling traps and he said if I get bored while he and my grandma are both at work I can come down here. I hope that’s okay?”
Matty locates his voice, prepares it for use. “Anytime,” he says. That word comes out croaky so he clears his throat. “We don’t own the water.”
“We own this part,” says Claire. Matty shoots her a look. Claire hates that look of his. “Well, we do.”
“We don’t. Not the water.”
“The rocks, then.”
“No, Claire, I don’t even think we own the rocks.”
“So she has a name!” Hazel says. “Hi, Claire.”
“And I’m Matty.” Matty pushes his glasses up; a futile gesture, as they only slip back down again.
“You should take those off,” Claire says to Hazel, looking at her flip-flops. “Before you fall on your face. The rocks get really slippery.”
