The Last Song - Страница 11

It had been the worst day of her life.

Oh, she knew she was being melodramatic about the whole thing. She wasn’t stupid. Still, it hadn’t been a great one. About the only good thing to come out of the whole day was meeting Blaze, which gave her hope that she’d have at least one person to spend time with this summer.

Assuming, of course, that Blaze still wanted to spend time with her. After Dad’s little stunt, even that was in doubt. Blaze and the rest of them were probably still talking about it. Probably laughing about it. It was the kind of thing Kayla would bring up for years.

The whole thing made her sick to her stomach. She tossed the Nemo shirt into the corner-if she never saw it again, it would be too soon-and began slipping off her concert shirt.

“Before I get too grossed out, you should know I’m in here.”

Ronnie jumped at the sound, whirling around to see Jonah staring at her.

“Get out!” she screamed. “What are you doing in here? This is my room!”

“No, it’s our room,” Jonah said. He pointed. “See? Two beds.”

“I’m not going to share a room with you!”

He tilted his head to the side. “You’re going to sleep in Dad’s room?”

She opened her mouth to respond, considered moving to the living room before quickly realizing she wasn’t going out there again, then closed her mouth without a word. She stomped toward her suitcase, unzipped the top, and flung open the lid. Anna Karenina lay on top, and she tossed it aside, searching for her pajamas.

“I rode the Ferris wheel,” Jonah said. “It was pretty cool to be so high. That’s how Dad found you.”

“Great.”

“It was awesome. Did you ride it?”

“No.”

“You should have. I could see all the way to New York.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could. I can see pretty far. With my glasses, I mean. Dad said I have eagle eyes.”

“Yeah, right.”

Jonah said nothing. Instead, he reached for the teddy bear he’d brought with him from home. It was the one he clutched whenever he was nervous, and Ronnie winced, regretting her words. Sometimes the way he talked made it easy to think of him as an adult, but as he pulled the bear to his chest, she knew she shouldn’t have been so harsh. Though he was precocious, though he was verbal to the point of annoyance at times, he was small for his age, more the size of a six- or seven-year-old than a ten-year-old. It had never been easy for him. He’d been born three months prematurely, and he suffered from asthma, poor vision, and a lack of fine-motor coordination. She knew kids his age could be cruel.

“I didn’t mean that. With your glasses, you definitely have eagle eyes.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good now,” he mumbled, but when he turned away and faced the wall, she winced again. He was a sweet kid. A pain in the butt sometimes, but she knew he didn’t have a mean bone in him.

She went over to his bed and sat beside him. “Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just having a bad night.”

“I know,” he said.

“Did you go on any of the other rides?”

“Dad took me on most of them. He almost got sick, but I didn’t. And I wasn’t scared at all in the haunted house. I could tell the ghosts were fake.”

She patted him on the hip. “You’ve always been pretty brave.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Like that time when the lights went out in the apartment? You were scared that night. I wasn’t scared, though.”

“I remember.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer. But then he grew quiet, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you miss Mom?”

Ronnie reached for the covers. “Yeah.”

“I kind of miss her, too. And I didn’t like being here alone.”

“Dad was in the other room,” she said.

“I know. But I’m glad you came home anyway.”

“Me, too.”

He smiled before looking worried again. “Do you think Mom is doing okay?”

“She’s fine,” she assured him. She pulled up the covers. “But I know she misses you, too.”

In the morning, with sunlight peeking through the curtains, it took Ronnie a few seconds to realize where she was. Blinking at the clock, she thought, You’ve got to be kidding me.

Eight o’clock? In the morning? In the summer?

She plopped back down, only to find herself staring at the ceiling, already knowing that sleep was out of the question. Not with the sun shooting daggers through the windows. Not with her father already hammering on the piano in the living room. As she suddenly remembered what had happened last night, the anger she felt at what her father had done resurfaced.

Welcome to another day in paradise.

Outside the window, she heard the distant roar of engines. She rose from the bed and pulled aside the curtain, only to jump back, startled at the sight of a raccoon sitting atop a torn bag of garbage. While the strewn garbage was gross, the raccoon was cute, and she tapped the glass, trying to get its attention.

It was only then that she noticed the bars on the window.

Bars. On. The. Window.

Trapped.

Gritting her teeth, she whirled around and marched into the living room. Jonah was watching cartoons and eating a bowl of cereal; her dad glanced up but continued to play.

She put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to stop. He didn’t. She noticed that the picture she’d thrown was back in place atop the piano, albeit without the glass.

“You can’t keep me locked up all summer,” she said. “It’s not going to happen.”

Her dad glanced up, though he continued to play. “What are you talking about?”

“You put bars on the window! Like I’m supposed to be your prisoner?”

Jonah continued to watch the cartoon. “I told you she’d be mad,” he commented.

Steve shook his head, his hands continuing to move across the keyboard. “I didn’t put them up. They came with the house.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“They did,” Jonah said. “To protect the art.”

“I’m not talking to you, Jonah!” She turned back to her dad. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re not going to spend this summer treating me like I’m still a little girl! I’m eighteen years old!”

“You won’t be eighteen until August twentieth,” Jonah said behind her.

“Would you please stay out of this!” She whirled around to face him. “This is between me and Dad.”

Jonah frowned. “But you’re not eighteen yet.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I thought you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget! I’m not stupid.”

“But you said-”

“Would you just shut up for a second?” she said, unable to hide her exasperation. She swiveled her gaze back to her dad, who’d continued to play, never missing a note. “What you did last night was…” She stopped, unable to put all that was going on, all that had happened, into words. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. Don’t you get that? You gave up the right to tell me what to do when you walked out the door. And would you please listen to me!”

Abruptly, her dad stopped playing.

“I don’t like this little game you’re playing.”

He seemed confused. “What game?”

“This! Playing the piano every minute I’m here! I don’t care how much you want me to play! I’m never going to play the piano again! Especially not for you!”

“Okay.”

She waited for more, but there was nothing.

“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

Her dad seemed to debate how to answer. “Do you want breakfast? I made some bacon.”

“Bacon?” she demanded. “You made bacon?”

“Uh-oh,” Jonah said.

Her dad glanced at Jonah.

“She’s a vegetarian, Dad,” he explained.

“Really?” he asked.

Jonah answered for her. “For three years. But she’s weird sometimes, so it makes sense.”

Ronnie stared at them in amazement, wondering how the conversation had been hijacked. This wasn’t about bacon, this was about what happened last night. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she said. “If you ever send the police to bring me home again, I won’t just refuse to play the piano. I won’t just go home. I’ll never, ever speak to you again. And if you don’t believe me, try me. I’ve already gone three years without talking to you, and it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

With that, she stomped back to her room. Twenty minutes later, after showering and changing, she was out the door.

***

Her first thought as she trudged through the sand was that she should have worn shorts.

It was already hot, the air thick with humidity. Up and down the beach, people were already lying on towels or playing in the surf. Near the pier, she spotted half a dozen surfers floating on their boards, waiting for the perfect wave.

Above them, at the head of the pier, the festival was no more. The rides had been disassembled and the booths had already been hauled away, leaving behind only scattered garbage and food remnants. Moving on, she wandered through the town’s small business district. None of the stores were open yet, but most were the kind she’d never set foot in anyway-touristy beach shops, a couple of clothing stores that seemed to specialize in skirts and blouses that her mom might wear, and a Burger King and McDonald’s, two places she refused to enter on principle. Add in the hotel and half a dozen upscale restaurants and bars, and that was pretty much it. In the end, the only interesting locales were a surf shop, a music store, and an old-fashioned diner where she could imagine hanging out with friends… if she ever made any.