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During the school year, I squeeze them into too-narrow flats, so when I come home, they always feel tender and ache.
Donovan, Jason, and I run around barefoot like savages. I burn the soles of my feet on the sun-hot boards of the dock. I stroll across the gravel walkways and run around the bare ground by Donovan’s trailer, which is littered with sticks and acorns.
When I shower, I feel the bottoms of my feet. They’re smooth like sea glass, but the skin has toughened. It makes me feel strong. Viking-like.
Maybe I, too, am getting stronger.
But my feet aren’t the only thing about me that’s different.
Because a couple weeks later, I miss my period.
I tell myself I’m paranoid. I’m being dramatic. It’s a whole lot of nothing.
But three pregnancy tests all tell me the same thing.
I’m fucked.
26
Kenzi
Everything is changing.
The leaves are turning color, from green to orange and red. The weather is crisper. September has bite.
We’ll be leaving Hannsett Island soon. Back to my mom’s apartment in Queens, where the air tastes like cigarette smoke and car exhaust instead of sea salt.
Paradise couldn’t last forever, anyway.
Donovan and Jason want to hang out as much as possible in the remaining time we have, but I keep making excuses to avoid them. I tell them it’s my time of the month (I wish). I tell them I’m not feeling well. I tell them Four is making us engage in a little “family time.”
So when Pearl and Four take me back to the marina to get some boat time in while the weather is still nice, I’ve run out of excuses.
We board Sweet Serenity, and Four and Pearl go below deck. I linger up top.
It’s starting to get chilly here. A lot of the boats have awnings over them. They’re locked down and closed up. The swans have left their nests. The pool is empty, shut down.
For the first time, I realize that I’m going to miss this place when summer is over.
I don’t see Donovan or his dad anywhere. There’s activity on the Healing Touch, though. Jason’s dad is sitting on the deck. He’s wearing a wool sweater stretched across his broad chest. His mouth is pulled into a focused frown underneath his graying beard. He’s opened up a storage hatch, and he’s pulling things out, making small piles.
I climb over the railing and hop onto the deck. I cross so I’m standing in front of his boat.
“Hi, Mr. King,” I say.
He glances up at me and offers a smile. “Kenzi. How’s your mother?”
“Good.” I rock back and forth on my bare feet, feeling small and awkward. “Is Jason here?”
He shakes his head and turns his attention back to his project. “No. He’s back at the house.”
“Oh.” A thought strikes me. Maybe not the best thought. Or the worst. But I’m out of options. And Jason’s dad did tell me over dinner to come to him if anything…came up.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“Putting the boat away for the summer. All good things must come to an end.”
“Cool.” I bite my lip. “Can I get your advice about something?”
