The pearl feels heavy all of a sudden.
He waits patiently until I’m ready to explain.
I didn’t know people did that.
“What about the gator?” I say, handing him back the pearl.
“She might already have a family,” he says with a frown. “If we’re playing pretend, then of course she can be, but—”
“I’m not playing pretend anymore. What if she doesn’t have a family?” I ask, studying Clawrece. She’s pushing her snoot against Gil’s leg affectionately. “What if they’re gone…”
“Then my family will take good care of her,” he says. “I will too.”
It’s not that easy.
“Mine wouldn’t, I don’t think,” I say, shaking my head. They didn’t want me—they’d never let me take care of a gator.
“My cousin doesn’t even like it here. She was complaining she wants to find a new camp, even though her wrist is covered in friendship bracelets and everyone likes her,” I tell him, not meaning to ramble, but with Gale, I can’t help it.
“Where are yours?” he asks, taking my hand and turning it over.
To keep from lying, I pinch my mouth shut. If I tell him no one out there wants to be my friend, maybe he won’t either.
“I’ll make a special one for you,” he says. “I’ll use the pearl and everything. Dozens of ’em! And this gator? I’ll find her family, or she’s part ofours. I promise.”
Our family.
“You really mean it?” I say, reaching down and giving the small creature a tentative pat. She closes her eyes and nuzzles into my hand.
“My mom said you give something shiny to the person you want forever with,” he says, holding my hand. “Can’t it be you, Marina?”
I nod, hoping one day summers like this will last forever.
Chapter 11
Marina
It’s a good thing those people pulled the boat off Gil and me. If they hadn’t, I think I’d still be kissing him—
Not that we exactly stopped. Even out of the water, his body was slick and cool, like the spring water itself. I ached to dive back in,figuratively and literally.
Now, however, I’m back in my cabin, and I’m assuming Gil is back in his.
My phone is shockingly still functional. I have the Otter Box Grams got me for Christmas to thank for that. But my journal—my poor, sweet journal! The entire book is waterlogged. I’ve only just finished hanging each page to dry with twine and clothespins after making an emergency trip to the store.
Luckily, though the pages are smudged and crinkled, they survived. With a little work, I think I can re-bind them into the original notebook.
Gil said he had an errand to run but would be back by sunset—which is exactly when he’ll meet me here. We’ll take another stroll and explore more of Camp Mangrove. It doesn’t even matter what we do; I just like being with him.
This is crazy—too much, too soon, too good. Still, I rifle through my suitcase, trying to find something a little more impressive than the cotton joggers and loose, long-sleeved tops I brought to protect me from the sun.
When I prepared for this trip, I grossly under packed for all the changes of clothes I’d need. My memories really undersold how dampliterally everythingis here.
I end up in the boho sundress that’s only a little (a lot) wrinkled from being in the bottom of my suitcase. Searching through my stuff, I decide to pair it with my mom’s old fringe vest, which over the past few years I’ve finally grown into. I then run my fingers through my tangled hair until the strands of bubblegum hang in damp waves.
My phone buzzes, undoubtedly with another Coco and Baxter update. I click answer, balancing it between my ear and my shoulder while I continue to work on drying out the notebook.
“Alright, so what’s going on with these critters? Is it a love triangle or are they all—”
