Silver Is for Secrets

  “Tell me about it.” I sigh.

  “It’s a big boat,” Amber says. She extracts a bottle of Mr.

  Bubble from one of her bags and holds it out to Drea as though it’s supposed to make her feel better. “With any luck you won’t even see Chad. You’ll be too busy fighting off all the frat-boy cuties with me.”

  Drea appears less than convinced. She shrugs and sits down on the edge of her bed, stuffing her overnight bag with a handful of nail polish bottles and Chad’s box of apology chocolates—telltale signs that it’s going to be a long night. Part of me wants to tell her and Amber that the same gift appeared on Clara’s windowsill, but I decide against it. It’s not that I’m trying to protect Chad, but considering Drea’s state, coupled with the fact that I’m not 100-percent convinced that he’s one who left the chocolates in Clara’s window, I see no benefit in adding to Drea’s angst right now.

  By 6:30, Jacob has taken off once again, and Chad and PJ are waiting for Amber, Drea, and me in the living room. So I’m stalling, telling everyone I need to check something in my room, on the back porch, in the newspaper before we go, asking if they can give me just a couple more minutes so I can dash into the bathroom.

  It’s because I’m waiting—hoping—for Jacob to come back to the cottage. Despite the mess we’re in, I just want to say goodbye. I think everyone knows this, which is why they’re accommodating my absurd requests.

  “We have to go,” Chad says finally. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss the boat.”

  “Literally,” Amber says.

  I nod, since I know they’re right—since I know in my heart that if Jacob wanted to be here for me, then he would be. He’d be piling into Amber’s vintage Volkswagen van along with the rest of us, picking through her Wendy’s wrappers to find a clean spot to sit, and heading down to the dock.

  Just a few minutes away, Amber screeches the van into the parking lot of the docking station, but luckily it seems like we still have time to spare. There’s a bunch of people hanging around outside, negotiating over last minute tickets and room selection.

  We head up a long and rickety ramp that leads us to the boat. At least one full section of the thick iron railing that encircles the main deck has been removed to allow all us passengers to file aboard. It seems Drea has decided to stick extra close to Amber and me so she doesn’t have to talk to Chad. Meanwhile, PJ tries his hardest to work his way back onto Amber’s good side. He offers three times to carry her bags before she finally caves and lets him. He also informs her that if she wants to borrow his sunglasses, his sun block, or his squirt gun, then all she has to do is say the word.

  The boat is huge, like the Titanic’s little sister, and it’s absolutely packed. Gobs of frat boys are already making a good time for themselves by mixing batches of funky drinks, gutting out watermelons for punch bowls, and poking umbrellas into coconuts-turned-drinking-mugs. One of the Delta Pi guys takes our tickets to check us in and explains where our rooms are. Meanwhile, another one comes over with an armful of Hawaiian leis. He tosses a big fat purple one around my neck. “Aloha,” he says. “Wanna get leid?”

  “No, thanks,” I mutter. I give him a slight smile, but apparently that isn’t good enough. The guy is completely beaming at me.

  “Stacey . . .” Amber says, elbowing me, most likely to urge me to play along and flirt back. But I’m here on business. “Don’t mind her,” Amber says to him after a pause. “Stacey’s just a little premenstrual. Nothing that a good lei won’t cure.” She crowns me with a pink one, and we move down the deck as directed.

  There are a bunch of girls here as well, most of them huddled up in packs, scoping everything out. I spot Casey’s ex-girlfriend by the snack table. She pauses from crunching down on a stick of celery, her eyes narrowing on me the moment we make eye contact, like maybe she recognized me from that day with Clara at the Clam Stripper.

  I look away, in search of Clara. There’s a large open area with bolted-down lounge chairs and tables with umbrellas and a steaming hot tub off to the side.

  “Do you want me to hang around for a little while and help you find her?” Amber asks.

  I shake my head and give her my bag. “I’ll just be a couple minutes.”

  “You sure?” Drea asks.

  I nod.

  Amber reminds me where our room is, hands my bag off to PJ, her personal bellboy, and they all head downstairs.

  Meanwhile, I look back toward the dock, wondering if Clara has even gotten here yet, if maybe I should go and ask the guy who checked us in. I peer over in that direction. That’s when I see him. When my insides light up like a million tiny fireflies.

  Jacob.

  thirty-four

  Jacob doesn’t even stop for a lei before heading in my direction. I wrap myself around him, feeling more than ever how connected we are, how much I truly-madly-deeply love him. I pull him closer against me, breathing into his skin, noticing how he smells like lemongrass. How I never want to fight with him again.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. “What happened?”

  But instead of answering, he just looks at me, his eyes all serious, his lips slightly parted.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling my smile droop.

  “Nothing,” he says, trying to grin. “We can talk about it later.” He touches the side of my face with the back of his hand, but it’s almost like he’s studying me, trying to read into me for some reason.

  The boat horn sounds, interrupting us, indicating that we’re on our way. “Wait,” I yelp. “Clara . . .” I leave Jacob a moment to hurry over to the guy checking people in. I ask him to check that Clara’s here, that she’s on board. He runs his finger down the list and nods when he spots it. “Yup,” he says. “Room thirty-one.”

  “Is everything okay?” Jacob asks, now at my side again.

  I breathe a giant sigh of relief and hook arms with him. “Yes,” I say. “For now, everything is just as it should be.”

  I offer to help Jacob get settled before checking in on Clara but he shakes his head, making me promise to come by his room later to talk.

  “Of course I’ll stop by.” I squeeze his hand, noticing right away that he’s still studying me again, that his jaw is locked, and his face is completely serious. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  “Of course.” I squeeze his hand a little harder, noticing how his palm is all clammy, how the tips of his fingers pulse into my skin.

  “I worry about you is all,” he says.

  I kiss his cheek, lingering at his neck a moment, knowing full well that there’s more to his worry, that he’s not telling me everything—yet again. “I should get going,” I say, finally. “Where’s your room? I’ll come by as soon as I can.”

  Jacob smiles finally, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs, down the hallway, and toward his room. I feel my face scrunch up when I notice his room number. I check it against Clara’s; it seems their rooms are separated by no more than a tiny hallway bathroom.

  “How did that happen?” I ask.

  Jacob smiles a little wider. He puts his bag down so he can sandwich my hands. He kisses my palms, reminding me of his concern, telling me that he paid extra to get a room of his own, one right next to Clara’s, bumping a foursome of boys to a cubbylike space shoved way in the corner.

  “You’re way too good,” I say, planting a big and mushy kiss across his lips.

  Jacob retreats into his room and I knock on Clara’s door. She opens it right away. “Stacey,” she perks. “So glad to see you. Is Jacob here, too?” She looks past me into the hallway.

  I nod. “He’s just next door.” I gesture in that direction but then stop myself, wondering why she even cares.

  “I had a feeling he’d come,” she says, practically bubbling over now.

  “Well, you’re obviously feeling better,” I say, remembering how sulky she seemed yesterday (post-Chad hookup) and then this morning, during my visit.


  “Are you kidding? I feel fabulous. I mean, have you seen this place? I feel like a movie star.”

  “We still need to talk,” I say.

  “Sure.” She opens the door wider, revealing three other girls. “This is Sara, Krista, and Melanie.”

  “Hi.” I wave.

  “We’re roomies for the night.” Clara giggles.

  The three other girls, two of them sporting baby-Ts with the letters PU across the front, look less than excited over this bit of news. They all exchange looks with one another over Clara’s excess enthusiasm.

  “Can we go someplace?” I ask her.

  “Actually,” Clara says, looking back at her new friends, “we were just heading upstairs to hang out on the main deck.”

  “Doubt it,” one of them says, her shimmery pink lips all bunched up like she just ate something sour. She cradles a towel around her neck, covering up her tan lines, gestures for her bottle-blond friends to follow along—they do—and they all head out, leaving Clara in the proverbial dust.

  “So I’ll see you later,” Clara calls out to them.

  “It’s okay, Clara,” I say, eager for her to come down to Earth for just five full minutes.

  “What is?”

  I shake my head and enter the room, closing the door behind me. “We need to stick together for the next couple days.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “You know there is.” I take a deep breath, feeling myself get jittery from just the mere idea of having to spill it to her like this. “I know the day.”

  She cocks her head and unzips her bag, pulling out a hairbrush. “What day?”

  “The day,” I say. “I dreamt it. The day you’re supposed to die.”

  Clara responds by stroking the length of her hair, moving into the mirror to fix her crooked part.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “Well what?”

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  Her mirrored reflection peeks up at me. “Of course I’m listening, but what can I do? I can’t change your dreams.”

  “It’s tomorrow,” I say, swallowing hard, “which means we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next couple days. As of 11:30 tonight, consider yourself surgically attached to my hip.”

  “11:30?” she chirps. “That sounds perfect. I mean, I want you to help me.”

  I take another deep breath, letting it out over three full beats, trying to ease the broken-glass feeling in my chest.

  “Should we go find your friends?” She turns from the mirror to face me. “I mean they’re here, aren’t they? I’d really like to straighten things out with Drea.”

  I clench my teeth, loathing the fact that she’s not taking all of this seriously.

  “Did she and Chad get a room together?” she continues.

  “Clara,” I say. “Forget Drea and Chad. You could die tomorrow.”

  She looks away, back into the mirror to continue stroking her hair. “I trust you. I mean, maybe that sounds naïve, but it’s just like Drea said—you’re not going to let anything bad happen to me, right?”

  “I’ll try, but still—”

  “Exactly.” She smiles and turns from the mirror, wrapping her arms around me in a best-friend hug. I make an effort to hug her back, but she feels so cold that I just want to pull away.

  thirty-five

  Clara breaks out her make-up pouch, telling me to give her a couple more minutes of primping, after which she’ll meet me up on the deck for some girls-only chit-chat with Amber and Drea. Fan-freaking-tastic.

  I count to ten and make my way up there. Amber and Drea have scored themselves a couple of lounge chairs, just steps from the hot tub.

  “Hey!” I call to them.

  Amber makes room for me at the end of her lounger, and I plop down right away, eager to tell them about Jacob, about how he made it aboard after all.

  “At least one of us has a real man.” Drea sips from her gutted-coconut, umbrella-adorned drink, managing a less-than-sincere, tight-lipped smile.

  “You and Chad will make up,” Amber tells her. “You always do.”

  “Not if Little Miss Ho-Ho has anything to say about it, I’m sure.”

  “Speaking of the world’s cheapest cookie . . .” Amber nods in Clara’s direction.

  She’s all smiles as she makes her way toward us. “Hey, you guys!” she beams. “Isn’t this boat the greatest?”

  “I can barely contain myself,” Amber says, a giant plastic smile stretched across her face.

  “By the way,” Drea tells me, ignoring Clara, “we put your bags in the room.”

  “If you can even call it a room,” Amber interrupts. “It’s more like a closet. And even worse, it’s right next to Chad and PJ’s room. We can’t even get away from them for one miniscule night.”

  “Next door or not,” Drea says. “I’m staying as far away from Chad on this cruise as I can.”

  “I’m sorry,” Clara says. “I didn’t mean to start problems between you guys. I honestly didn’t know you two were that close.”

  “Um, yes, you did,” Drea says, her eyes widening to show annoyance.

  “Honestly,” Clara asserts. “I mean, he hardly ever mentions you.”

  “Don’t you have some other relationship-wrecking to do?” Drea asks. “I think I saw a happy couple over by the punch bowl.”

  “Joke all you want,” Clara says. “But just remember, even you said you guys were fighting. Plus, you have to admit, Chad doesn’t seem like the commitment type, at least not to me.”

  “Maybe that’s because he’d never commit to someone like you.”

  “Ouch,” Amber whispers.

  I open my mouth to interrupt just as the loud and bellowing blow horn sounds, followed by one of the frat guys announcing that dinner is being served.

  “Saved by the blow,” Amber says.

  I nod in agreement.

  Apparently they’ve got a barbecue going on the other side of the boat. The smell of burning charcoal mixed with sweet and sticky marinades is thick in the air. People begin moving in that direction, leaving the hot tub completely unoccupied.

  “Opportunity’s knocking, ladies. I say we dive in.” Amber peels off her shorts and top, revealing a tie-dye pink bathing suit that matches her rubber sandals. She slips those off as well, pushes the button that turns on the jets, and then sinks down into what looks like foaming bubbly bliss. “Sheer heaven,” she says, leaning back against one of the jets.

  “That looks way too good to pass up.” Drea follows Amber’s lead, pulling off her cotton tank dress, glancing in Clara’s direction as she settles her itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie bikini-suited body into the water. “Stacey, you have to get in here.”

  I look at Clara. “Do you want to come in, too?”

  “Sure.” She nods. Though she doesn’t look so sure. She nibbles at her lip, tightening up the slit on her sarong, watching Amber and Drea the whole time, obviously sensing the fact that she’s not welcome.

  I pull off my T-shirt and jean shorts and slip my plum-purple tankini-suited self into the foamy water.

  “Better than chocolate, eh?” Drea says, smiling for the first time today.

  “Better than a lot of things,” Amber says, arching her eyebrows up and down.

  “Are you coming in?” I ask Clara.

  She sits down on the edge of the tub instead. “Maybe not. I have this thing about swimming in public pools.”

  “It’s a hot tub,” Drea says, correcting her. “And there’s probably enough chlorine in here to kill off even the strongest of parasites.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Clara asks, wiping a splash that’s landed right below her eye.

  “Nothing,” Drea says, eyeing her manicure.

  I do my best to block them out, concentrating on the soothing quality of the jets. But I couldn’t feel more tense. A part of me agrees with Drea; she has every right to be steaming, quite literally, over the predicament. But I also know I
can’t judge. I mean, Clara’s right; it was less than two years ago that I practically did this exact same thing—that I kissed Chad, knowing full well that Drea was still in love with him. This fact, pig-piled on all of Jacob’s secrets and the added stress of having to save Clara, makes me want to slip under the silky water and spiral down the drain.

  “Maybe I’ve pruned enough,” Amber says, perhaps feeling a bit of the tension as well. “Anybody for a weenie?”

  “None for me, thanks,” Drea says. “But I’m sure Clara will take one.”

  “Or two.” Amber giggles.

  I give them a stern look, but it’s too late. Clara stands up. “I’m leaving,” she announces.

  “I hope it’s not something we said.” Drea fakes a pout.

  “Don’t go,” I say. “They didn’t mean anything.”

  Clara leaves anyway, wiping her eyes as she takes off down the deck.

  “Thanks a lot,” I say, lifting myself out of the water. “Is it so hard for you guys to be civil to her for one measly evening?”

  “I tried,” Drea says. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “That was trying?” I grab my T-shirt and pull it on over my head.

  “Stacey—wait,” Amber says. She pulls herself out of the tub as well. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to go talk to her?”

  “We’ll both go.” Drea sighs.

  “Forget it,” I say. If it wasn’t for Jacob, I’d obviously be on my own.

  thirty-six

  I end up having to knock a bunch of times before Clara actually comes to the door.

  “Yeah?” she asks, peeping her head out through the door crack.

  “I’m sorry about Drea and Amber,” I say. “They mean well, it’s just—”

  “Forget it.” She looks over her shoulder into the room before closing the door behind her and joining me out in the hallway. “We need to keep quiet,” she whispers. “Melanie got in a fight with her boyfriend. She’s trying to get some rest. She’s pretty upset about it.”

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m on duty here, that Clara’s life depends on it—whether I believe she’s a backstabbing ditz or not. “Well, they wanted to come down here and apologize for themselves,” I say, pulling at the truth.