In White Houses

It's already been a whole year. Well, it's been a whole school year anyway, which I guess is technically only nine months. Somehow, I thought college would change the perception of a school year, although I'm not sure why. I thought I would feel more grown up, more like part of the group. I'm not sure which group, just any group. I thought I would feel like part of the human race at least, but I don't. I feel exactly the same way I did one year ago today. I feel alone, but not necessarily lonely; not exactly lost, but not exactly like I'm on a fated road, either. It's hard to explain, really. And she doesn't get it. The closest person in the world to me, now several hundred miles away, didn't even get it when I lived under the same roof she did.

So when I saw the girl from my poetry class putting up a notice for a summer roommate, I decided to do it without hesitation.

"Jen?" I say as she finishes pinning the second sign to the corkboard in the union building.

The petite blonde whirls around, curls bouncing around her face with the movement. Although she stands several inches shorter than me, I can't help feeling intimidated by her. "Hi." She finally says. "It's Joey, right?"

"Right." I say with a smile. We've been paired together on a couple of in-class projects, merely by seated location, and it hasn't been uncomfortable to work together, but it also hasn't necessarily blossomed into friendship. "You're looking for a summer roommate?"

"Yes. Well, I'm not the only one. My parents agreed to let me and my friends use their house in Florida for the summer on the condition that we find two more roomies." She rests her hand on her hips and rolls her eyes. "They get the feeling four is safer than two. They think I can't take care of myself."

"I know what you mean," I say, although I really don't. I've been basically alone since I started college here; my sister didn't have any problem sending me to a strange city with a single room. Well, it isn't that she didn't have a problem with it exactly as much as it is that she didn't question my ability to handle myself.

"Why do you ask? Do you know someone who would be interested?"

"Umm…" I say, a little thrown by the question for some reason. "Yes."

"Okay." Jen says, taking one of the small removable tags from the bottom of the second flier. "Have her give me a call."

I nod and accept the small piece of paper from her. "Okay, I will."

I stare at the handwriting, or rather the photocopy of handwriting, standing in the hallway until the numbers don't make sense, and I sigh.

In reality, I should ask my sister before I make such a drastic decision anyway. She's expecting me to come home and help out with our family's bed and breakfast. She has a six year old son and could probably use the break from running a 24-hours-a-day business to spend some time with him. And as much as I complain about her, I'm sure she wouldn't mind my company.

I've never done anything impulsive. I've never done anything that could even be considered remotely risky. Part of it is that Bessie was pretty overprotective. She only let me go away to college because she knew for so long that moving away was the change that I craved. We had the trust fund that mom's life insurance money had been put into when she died and Bessie had only used a small part of it on college before she came home to replace a mother to her little sister. Our father was soon squirreled away to prison; it turned out he had been involved in some drug-trafficking scheme, and so he left us alone. After that, it was pretty much just Bessie and I, stuck with my father's debts and a trust fund that was specifically to be used for college-related expenses per the family attorney. Thankfully, the creditors couldn't touch that money, but they took everything else. In the midst of our family ruin, it became obvious that Bessie was the only person in the world I could trust. Those who had been friends were on the other side, spreading rumors and speculating.

So this opportunity, to really get away from all of that, is too tempting. It would be impulsive and daring and it would take me away from people who still judge and whisper. No one here knows about any of that, and that has been a huge relief. But now the opportunity to push it all even further away is just too real and too present and too much for me to pass up. I smile for the first time in a few weeks as I head up to my room to call Bessie. For whatever reason, though, I'm a bundle of nerves as the line connects to my childhood home-turned-B&B in small town suburban Massachusetts.

"Potter Bed and Breakfast, this is Bodie," comes the overly cheerful greeting. Bessie's boyfriend, with whom she shares Alex, came to live with us when we got the B&B up and running. He was at the culinary institute located on site at the college Bessie had chosen, and when she decided to take an elementary cooking class, the rest was history. They bumped into each other in the hallway on a random day and…somehow ended up becoming parents about a year later.

"Hi, Bodie. It's Joey. How are you?"

"Faring pretty well here. How are you?" He asks, but I can hear a guest asking him a question in the background. He must motion something to them, because his attention doesn't wane.

"Good."

"Ready to come home?"

I sigh at the expectant tone of his voice. They are planning on coming up to get me together on the 26th, three days after my last final exam and only a week from today. "I was actually calling to speak with Bessie about that."

"Well, let me get her for you, then. We'll see you soon."

"Okay." I say with a smile. "Thanks, Bodie." That feeling in the pit of my stomach has exploded into all-out nervousness. Somehow, in the space of the last five minutes, this has become incredibly important to me.

"Hey, Jo." Bessie says in her sweet, soft way. Usually she's sweet and soft.

"Hey, Bess."

"Bodie said you were calling to discuss coming home? I thought we had it planned."

"Well, we do." I say, resting the phone between my shoulder and ear as I hesitate.

"So what is there to talk about?"

"There's a girl from my poetry class who has invited me to live with her in Florida for the summer."

"I thought you wanted to come home for the summer. You haven't been back since Christmas." The sweetness and softness is immediately gone, replaced by confusion and what sounds vaguely like the beginning of anger.

"I know I haven't." I say softly, letting the guilt of her simple statement wash over me. "But I really want to go there, too."

Bessie sighs loudly. "How would you pay for this?"

"I haven't thought about it." I admit. "She just asked me today." I don't want to get into the specifics about how I would be going with a group of near strangers and it would be more of a volunteer arrangement than an invitational one.

"But you really want to go, huh?"

"Yeah." I say, feeling the need to explain somewhat. "You know how you didn't move home right away when you first came back from college?"

"That was because mom was gone and dad was furious that I was pregnant and refused to let me back in to be a bad example to you." She clears her throat. "It wasn't the same. If I could've come home, if he would've let me, I would have. And eventually I did."

"Of course I would come home at some point. I just want to go live there for the summer, not forever."

"You were planning on using your earnings from here over the summer to pay for living expenses next year. What would you do for that money?"

I clear my throat. "I haven't really thought about it. I mean, I'm sure I can get a summer job down there."

"So how are you going to pay your way down there?" She asks slowly.

"I still have money left," I admit. I've only used about a third of what I saved before I left for New York so far this year, but I don't really want her to know that. She would be worried if she knew I didn't go out; part of the money was destined for entertainment expenses, after all.

"You do?" She sounds surprised, and that's what makes me feel even more like she doesn't really know me. If she did, she would know that I haven't been anywhere but the library or my room in a long time; maybe even all school year.

"Yes."

"I don't like this idea," Bessie says firmly. "I would much rather you come home."

I sigh. I recognize her tone of voice as the one that doesn't barter. This is the voice she uses with Alex when he's done something wrong. "Fine," I say, feeling the sharp stab of disappointment and feeling more like I'm eight than eighteen. "I'll just…I'll talk to you on Sunday, okay?"

"Okay." She says. "And Jo?"

"What?" I respond, sounding more irritated than I intend.

"I know you don't understand, but…I just know what it would be if you went to Florida with these friends and I want to protect you from that. I've been down that road. Look where I ended up."

"Your life isn't that bad." I argue. "Sure Alex was an accident, but you love him and Bodie."

"You're right. But that doesn't mean it was what I had planned. I've given up a lot of plans that I had for myself. You'll have plenty of time to experience new things while you're in college. I just want to make sure you finish school, too."

I sigh, fighting the urge to tell her that I don't care what she's been through and I want my own experiences. "I know."

"All right. I'll talk to you Sunday."

"Okay, bye." I hang up the phone quickly so I don't start a legitimate fight with her. I don't want to be protected anymore. She's become this interesting person because of mistakes she's learned from and accepting the consequences of her actions. I look out the window across the quad, littered with students in various stages of action: walking, studying, talking, laughing…and wonder why I'm sitting here alone in my room with tears in my eyes, letting my older sister dictate the course of my entire life.

I scan the room slowly, really allowing my eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the manufactured lighting inside. It's just a few minutes before the poetry final begins, and while most students are panicking and looking through their notes with dread, praying that the essay question doesn't include this poem or that one from our semester's worth of studying, I'm fighting down that feeling in my stomach again. It's not that I'm shy, exactly, it's just that I generally prefer not to talk to people and I know that's a preference I really need to change. This is the first step in that change. I select the open seat next to the familiar crown of blonde, dipped severely over the spiral-bound notebook set in front of her. I sit down, but don't bother to remove my well-worn notes from the grey backpack I set on the floor.

"Hey, Jen." I say softly, trying to get her attention without disturbing her all at once.

"Oh, hi Joey." She says with an easy grin.

I've thought about this over the four days since I spoke with Bessie. It's all I've thought about. "So, my friend that was looking for somewhere to live over the summer…it was actually me. And I'm interested in going down there with you."

"Oh." Jen says with a smile. "Okay. Great."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Positive." She says immediately. She rolls her eyes as her cell phone rings. "I swear I turned that off," she scoffs as several students cast dirty looks her way. She digs it out of her bag and answers it as she walks out of the room.

I look around awkwardly as our professor enters and begins unloading photocopied tests from his own bag. Jen makes it back inside the room just in time, as Dr. Maynes instructs us to get out our blue books and pens and spread out. She smiles at me as she scoots two seats over. I smile back, feeling sure about myself for the first time since I saw her flier.

The essay question is easy for me; the page fills with my handwriting quickly. Poetry is so unlike people for me, which is strange. I've heard it described many ways, including a beautiful woman, because apparently beautiful women are confusing, contradictory and all offer something different. To me, a poem is more like a puzzle. You unravel the arrangement of words, the voice of the speaker, and the shape the words take in your mind to reveal a secret meaning. To me, poetry makes sense. After I finish, I read through the three page essay to double check my facts and make sure I included everything I wanted to include. As I move to stand, Jen grabs my attention and mouths for me to wait for her. I give her a small nod, take my blue book to Dr. Maynes and exit the room. I let my back slide against the cool wall and sit on the ground.

Bessie has been very protective of me since our father was arrested. She won't let me go see him. She won't even tell me what prison they sent him to. She doesn't bother to ask me, so what she doesn't know is that I don't care. I know he was having an affair while our mom was dying, so whatever happened in the aftermath really doesn't matter to me. There is a moment of revelation involved in discovering such things; there's a moment where you see your parents as flawed individuals, rather than some exalted being. That moment happened when I was twelve and I caught my father stumbling in our back door with lipstick all over his neck and collar, reeking of perfume and alcohol. When I smelled the same perfume, several years later, on one of my teachers at school, I asked her what brand it was. The reaction caused by smelling it and recalling how it felt to be twelve, filling a glass of water in the kitchen and watching him come in with that smell on him was the last I've ever had to my father. After that, I put him away, locked firmly in a memory that I don't visit. I've never told Bessie any of that, and she's never asked. She's never asked me why our father didn't look at me at our mother's funeral. It's because, the morning after I caught him and he was sober again, I asked him what was going on. He didn't care enough about me to protect me the way Bessie does. I guess I should be grateful he was honest with me, because he was rarely honest.

I guess it's natural for Bessie to deny me living in Florida now. She's protected me from some horrible things, and she gave me the best home she possibly could. It was a safe place to go, safe from the whispers and giggles and looks of disgust that comprised my adolescence. But I don't need that shelter anymore. I need to come out of my shell so I can learn who I really am. I would like to think that person is capable of having fun and taking care of herself. I would like to think I can walk the line between adulthood and insanity just like other college students.

"Joey!" Jen says brightly, coming out of the classroom. She snaps me out of my train of thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing." I say, shrugging it off easily as I push myself up from the floor. "How do you feel about your essay?"

"I feel so happy that I'm finished with poetry. You?"

I just nod. "Yeah. I feel pretty good about it."

"Good." She says. "So, that phone call was one of my roommates for the summer. Her brother is going to come live with us, too."

"Her brother?" I ask, squinting quickly as we hit the sunshine outside. Jen pulls sunglasses out of her jeans pocket and puts them on, and I can't help thinking that she looks like a movie star.

"Yeah. Hopefully five of us will fit in the house." She says brightly. "Her brother is really great."

"I thought the flier said all girls?"

"It did. Well, Jack's gay anyway."

I smile, feeling myself relax slightly.

"So, when are you finished with finals?"

"I'm finished this afternoon." I say. "I just have one more."

"Oh, good." Jen says. "We were actually planning on leaving the day after tomorrow."

"How is everyone getting there?" I say, realizing that I've stranded myself. There is no way Bessie is going to provide transportation to Florida for me. Especially because I'm not going to tell her until I'm ready to leave. Conveniently just before she and Bodie leave the B&B.

"Andie was going to drive us." Jen said. "She has a car that will fit everyone, and we're just leaving whatever stuff we don't need to take at my parents' house."

"Your parents have two houses?" I say with a sinking feeling.

"Yeah. The one in Florida is really just a beach house. We used it for family vacations about twice a year. They're talking about selling it now, and I thought it would be a shame not to enjoy it without them at least once."

I nod slowly. "Yeah."

"So anyway, you can leave whatever you need in my room at my parents' house. They have plenty of room. My younger sister is staying for summer session at her school, so they have more room than normal."

"Okay. Well, I don't really have that much stuff." I say with a shrug. "And who exactly is going down there?"

"Well, you and me." Jen offers before blowing a stray hair off her forehead. "My roommate from here, Audrey, my friend Andie from back home, and her brother Jack. Andie and Jack are both at NYU, so they can leave from here with us."

"Are you sure it's okay if I come?" I ask. "It seriously sounds like all of you know each other really well, and you're the only one that knows me."

"Well, give it awhile and everyone will get to know you." Jen says, tugging on my sleeve to pull me towards the art building. "Audrey doesn't know Andie or Jack, either."

"If you're sure it's all right…."

"I'm sure. Besides, I know you from poetry. You're probably the only reason I'm going to pass, so thanks for sitting next to me. This is the least I can do to show my gratitude."

I smile slightly. "So do you have a job lined up down there or anything?"

"Not really." Jen says. "My parents made a deal with me that as long as I pass all my classes with better than a C average, I don't have to work through college and they'll pay for everything. That's why I'm so grateful to pass Poetry. Do you need to get a summer job?"

"Umm…I might. It just depends," I say vaguely.

"Well, if you do, I'm sure my mom or dad can set up something for you. They've already set up something for a couple of our friends. One of them lives down there full time because of my dad," she says with a small laugh. She comes to a slow stop outside the art building and begins rummaging through her bag. She comes out with two Tootsie pops. "You want one?"

"Um, sure. Thanks." I say, accepting the orange one.

"I'm supposed to meet Audrey out here. Do you have anywhere to be?"

"No. Not for two more hours."

"Good! We're going to lunch. You can meet her." Jen says. "If you want, that is. I can't really tell."

I wave it off and pull the sucker out of my mouth. "I'm a little shy." I admit. "I'm trying to get over it."

"Well good. I think Audrey and I will be able to help you with that." She says brightly. She glances at her watch. "Damn, we're early." She casts a look at the building anyway. "So tell me about yourself. I can't believe we worked together in class three times and I don't know anything other than your first name." Jen narrows her eyes. "Is that your real first name?"

"Sort of. I go by Joey, but my name is Josephine." I roll my eyes. "Don't ask me why. My sister got Elizabeth and I got Josephine. Hardly seems fair."

Jen chuckles. "Yeah, I know what you mean. My middle name is Louise. So, you just have one sister?"

"Yeah, she's seven years older than I am, but we're really close. She has a little boy named Alex who's six, and I lived with them since Alex was born."

"What about your parents?"

"What about them?" I ask, not defensively. I just don't want to get into it.

She nods. "Yeah, I went to live with my grandmother through high school. I understand all about relationships with parents."

I smile and continue enjoying my sucker. The sugar already makes my teeth ache, but for once I just enjoy something, even something as simple as a Tootsie Pop. "So, there's that. I'm from Massachusetts. That's about it. Pretty boring stuff."

"Yeah, me too. I'm originally from here, but my grandmother lives in Connecticut. That's where I met Andie and Jack. You'll really like them." She pauses to take a long pull from her sucker. "What are you studying?"

"I think I'm going to major in English or literature or something like that…I like books." I shrug, trying not to appear too nerdy. "What about you?"

"I have no idea." She says easily. "I'm thinking maybe nursing or something, though. That's what my grandma did and it sounded great. I think my parents are just thinking of college as finishing school, so I'll marry some congressman's son or something when I'm done and that's it. They're trying to pressure me into just doing general studies."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "They don't want you to get a degree?"

"I think that they think of college as a place to keep me until I'm respectable enough to marry. I had kind of a reputation when they shipped me off to Connecticut. They want that to die down."

"So they send you to Columbia?"

"Yeah." Jen says easily. As easy as it's been for me to be okay with my parental relationship, or lack thereof, I wonder how other people can be okay when their parents fail them. "Oh, here's Audrey."

The blonde coming out of the building and waving at Jen is, if even possible, more buxom and confident than the girl in front of me. I know immediately that I'm out of my league. These are the kind of girls who were cheerleaders and popular and…girls who dated a lot and went to dances and flirted shamelessly and…I sigh. Definitely not like me.

"Audrey, this is Joey. She's in my poetry class, but she volunteered to be our fourth roommate this summer."

"Excellent!" Audrey says, clearly trying to size me up. "How tall are you?"

"Um, I'm 5'9"." I say shyly. Did she just decide to go straight for the insecurity?

"I'm jealous," Audrey says simply. "I can make it to 5'6" if my shoes are tall enough."

"That's average," I point out.

"God, I'm below average with shoes on!" Jen complains. "That's enough of this subject!"

"Oh, I found the best swimsuit sale!" Audrey says. "I figured I should stock up since we're living at the beach. Do you want to come shopping later on?"

"Yes! I need a new suit." Jen says. "I lost the bottoms of mine last summer at…well, never mind. Would you like to come, Joey?"

"I should pass," I say simply. "I need to get packing if we're leaving that soon."

Jen nods. "Okay, that's true. You know, Audrey, maybe we should wait and just all go shopping together down there. It'll be less to worry about."

"That's true." Audrey says, contemplating it carefully. "Do you have anymore Tootsie Pops?"

Jen complies and fishes one out of her bag. "Honestly, Audrey. You eat more sugar than anyone else I know."

"Hey, I'm not the one that always has a candy store in their purse."

"What do you like for lunch?" Jen says, turning to me. "We've got pizza, Mexican, or Japanese within walking distance."

"Pizza is good." I say simply. "Is it sad that I don't know what's around here?"

"Where do you eat?" Audrey asks.

"I just cook at the dorm. My brother-in-law is a chef. He taught me a few basics."

"So you've lived off grilled cheese sandwiches, soup, and popcorn all year?"

I laugh easily, surprised to feel it rumbling from my stomach. I haven't laughed that deeply in a long time. "Basically. I also make a mean bowl of cereal."

"Excellent! Those skills will come in handy."

We spend lunch getting to know each other and I begin to feel more at ease around these girls, almost enough to forget what Bessie's reaction will be when I call her tomorrow. As we laugh together, and already begin forming the basis of a friendship, though, I can't help feeling myself break away from her a little, feel myself breaking out of my shell, which is something I desperately need. For the first time I can remember, I'm looking forward to summer more than I look forward to the school year.

"This is the worst game ever invented!" Audrey says loudly. She turns to point to Jack. "And you are the source of evil that started this line of questioning!"

"Well, you're the one who picked truth," Jack logically points out.

"Hey, she isn't the one who picked dare and ended up showing nipple to that elderly couple in the middle of Nowhere, Georgia." Jen protests from the side opposite me in the back. Jack is crammed in between us, while Audrey gets the home stretch advantage of riding in front for the last 100 miles of our drive. I watch between Jack and Audrey as they continue to argue about whether or not she has to answer Jack's question. His questions seem to be directed toward everyone in the car, although they haven't actually forced me to answer any of them.

"Come on, Audrey. Your first time. In bold, graphic, descriptive detail. If you don't somewhat turn me on, given than we are discussing sex, I will be sorely disappointed." Jen says over the commotion. She's just irritated because she already answered the same question, in the same parameters she just listed to Audrey. Really, all I'm left with is more questions.

Jen and Audrey continue to argue it out as Jack turns to me. By now, I'm looking out the window, watching the last ten miles of freeway speed by in a blur.

"And what are you thinking?" He asks softly. Without a doubt, Jack is the first person here I've felt entirely comfortable around. Sure, the girls have all been more than welcoming and it isn't that I'm uncomfortable around them. It's just that Jack makes me feel like opening up, for some reason. There's something about him that seems to understand when I want to talk and when I don't.

I turn to him and smile. "I just can't believe we're almost there already."

"Yeah, Andie drives too fast." Jack says.

"Hey, I heard that!" Andie says, watching him carefully in the rear-view mirror.

"You just drive," he says, pointing emphatically to the windshield. I know that Audrey and Jen are off on some conversational tangent and won't be with us for some time. Jack turns back to me.

"Are you still afraid to call your sister when we get there?" He asks, shifting in his seat so that he's intimately next to me. Despite the fact that we've been on the road for about sixteen hours, he smells good. He smells of something manly and faint cologne and…just something warm and soft. I meet his fiercely blue eyes and smile a smile that borders on a cringe.

"Yes." I admit. "To say she was upset with my change in plans is an understatement. And even though she told me to call when we get here, I think it might just be so she can get the telephone number, track the address down using it as a reference point and come here to drag me kicking and screaming back to Capeside."

Jack rests a hand on my knee. "You know, I think it'll be okay, though. I'm really glad you came."

I smile more genuinely and rest my hand on his. "Me, too."

"So the girls are going bikini shopping this afternoon?" He asks.

"Yeah, I guess." I say easily. "I really just want to take a nap."

"No!" Audrey says. "No nap! Shop!"

"We can go shopping tomorrow." I point out.

"Or we can go shopping today and to the beach tomorrow."

"I'm for that plan!" Andie says. "I'm all library pale and nasty."

"See, that's what happens when you spend too much time in the library," Jack adds emphatically. "I spend ten minutes a week to look this good."

"Or just so you don't burn like the baby you are once you get to Florida. Because it's hard to get a man when you're whining about sunburn."

"I don't need a man," Jack says. "After this year, no way. Besides, I have Joey to keep me company."

The collective groan is almost deafening. "No, Jack. We like her. You are not going to commandeer her for the entire summer. She's here to have fun and relax. Not to baby-sit."

He looks to me questioningly and I shrug.

"Oh, Andie, this is your exit coming up." Jen says. Andie thanks her and Jen continues spouting directions.

"So, I believe it's someone else's turn to describe their first time." Audrey points out.

"I didn't hear yours!" Jack says.

"That isn't my problem, I told the story. It's too bad you were too busy pretending to be straight to listen," she teases, gesturing over her shoulder to where our hands still rest on my knee.

"Fine!" Andie says. "It's my turn. And I don't mind talking about it, because it was amazing."

Jack coughs to conceal a laugh.

"Shut up!" Andie protests loudly. "It was! It was my boyfriend my junior year of high school. We'd been dating for six months when he pooled all the money he'd made in weeks at his part time job to get us a night at a local bed and breakfast. The room was huge and beautiful, with a four poster bed, a roaring fire, candles, rose petals…the whole package. We went out to a fancy dinner before, so we were all dressed up and feeling so grown up."

"Except…" Jack prompts, leaning forward to hear her quick, quiet admission.

"Except we had just finished midterms and we were both exhausted, so we fell asleep nice and early. We did it the next night, in the backseat of his car, in my parents' driveway."

The shocked rounds of laughter fill the car and I stare out the window again, wondering what it would be like if someone adored someone else enough to go through all that planning and spend all that money for them to have a good time. Wondering what it would be like if that were me.

"So, Joey, you're awfully quiet—" Andie starts in.

Jen cuts her off. "The last house on the right." She says. "The white one."

"Oh, my god!" Audrey says, looking at the beautiful house at the end of the driveway Andie is pulling into. "Look at this place! Are you kidding me?"

"Isn't it great?" Jen says with a thrilled smile.

"It's great." Audrey agrees. "We live here!" She shrieks.

"And we'd be happier if you would get out of the car so that the rest of us could," Jack points out to her. Andie's Saab is a two-door with barely enough room for the three of us in the backseat. Andie and Audrey get out at approximately the same time, and Andie pops the trunk so we can get our suitcases out. They are so stuffed into the truck that getting them out might be a hypothetical at this point.

"Oh, feel that stretch!" Jack says happily as he stretches and yawns. Jen takes advantage of his open posture to punch him in the stomach. "Hey!" He protests as he crumples over.

"I get first dibs on the shower!" Audrey says, running after Jen, who is busy opening the front door with her suitcase at her feet. I'm pretty sure I heard Jen call the first shower somewhere around Washington D.C., but I could be mistaken.

Jack takes my small suitcase out of the trunk along with his own and closes it as soon as Andie has grabbed her own suitcase. "You'd better hurry if you want to get a shower in before we go shopping."

"Thank you for taking my bag," I begin. "But I think I'm more in the mood for a run than a shower."

"Really?" He says with great interest. "Do you run a lot?"

"I wouldn't say a lot. Just a few miles a day." I say with a shrug. He looks at me like I'm weird.

"What?"

"You don't look like you need it."

I know I blush a little as he looks my body up and down. I'm not used to being under that kind of scrutiny, especially from a male, even if he would rather be checking out another boy. "I like it. It's relaxing."

"Running is relaxing?"

"Yes." I confirm. Jen points out the two bedrooms. Jen and Jack are taking her parents' room with king size bed. We've already worked out that I don't mind sleeping on the floor, since I was the last one to sign up for a room. I've got the floor in the living room all to myself. Jack sets my suitcase on the couch.

"Are you sure you don't mind sleeping on the floor? You can really have my spot in the bed if you want."

"I'm okay. It'll be good to have my own space anyway," I say, turning to take out my shorts and a tanktop, given that the temperature and humidity are already climbing outside.

"You're seriously going running now?" He asks incredulously.

"Yes, I'm seriously going running now." I repeat. "Do you mind telling everyone where I went?"

"Do you need company?"

"No." I say easily. "I honestly prefer to go alone."

"You spend a lot of time alone."

I toss my running shoes on the floor. "Pretty much all of it." I say, trying not to sound as though I'm complaining about it.

"Don't worry. That's going to change fast." He says as Andie comes into the room.

"What is?"

"Nothing." He says, turning around. "Joey's going to go for a run. There's plenty of time, right?"

"Yeah, we're in no hurry. And you're going to get us some beer, right?"

"Naturally," he says. They continue discussing this at length as I excuse myself from the room to go change.

I stand in the bathroom, looking at myself carefully in the mirror, wondering what Jack thought of what he saw. I'm probably a little on the thin side, weighing in at 120 pounds, even though I'm tall. I'm too tall, that's for sure. For Jack it isn't a problem, because he's still got a good three inches on me, but around everyone else I feel awkward. I don't have the curves or the chest that Audrey has, and I don't have the gorgeous hair or full lips that Jen has. I haven't figured Andie out. She doesn't seem as self-assured as the other two, although she is also blonde and fairly short, seeming to be one more polar opposite to me in the house.

But I can't let it get me down, right? I'm here to make friends and have a good time. I'm not here to over-analyze myself and think everything to death like I normally do. I pull the black tank-top over my head, covering up as much as it will and noticing how pale my skin is. Maybe some time in the sun will do me good, although Jen already told me that I'll want to run with a sweatshirt if I plan on going early in the morning because the breeze on the water is cold until the sun is all the way up. Maybe I'll have to start going later. It isn't going to matter if I start waking later than my usual six in the morning, right? I'm here to relax. I chant that to myself like a mantra. I'm here to relax.

It isn't relaxing to remember the conversation I had with Bessie. She thought we had decided. She thought we were excited for me to come home. She doesn't understand. How do I explain that I'm not happy without making her think I'm miserable? It isn't that I'm miserable with my life, it's that I'm bored. I feel like I'm stagnant. This is my chance to make friends, to do something really out of character. This will be an experience I will talk about forever, I already know that. And talking forever isn't something I've ever done. If I talk for too long, I inevitably stumble onto a painful subject and clam right up again. I'll finally have something to talk about uncensored. I sigh. Bessie cried when I told her I wasn't coming home for the summer. I promised to come home for Labor Day, though, no matter how much homework I have.

I tie my long hair back into a smooth ponytail at the nape of my neck. A few loose pieces fall into my face almost immediately, but I just tuck them behind my ears. It's like my face is different when I'm looking at it for the first time in a mirror, in a bathroom, and a place I've never been. It's like something inside me has already changed. I smile slightly at the thought.

I begin stretching in the living room, looking out the door at the beach. The back door opens to the private pool and hot tub encased in cement, and the fence beyond that opens to the beach. I hear the shower start in a distant part of the house and wonder how far I'll be able to run today before I need to get back. Maybe they'll leave me and go shopping.

"So, Jen says we should be all ready to go in about an hour and a half, minus your shower when you get back. So I was thinking about two hours?" Jack says, coming back into the living room.

"Oh." I say, not realizing that someone was in the room with me. "Okay. I'll be back in about an hour and a half then."

He nods. "Please. I need to go get some beer. But I'm also not supposed to rush you, so…"

"I won't tell." I say with a small smile.

"Good." His face brightens. "Hurry back now."

I jog in place for a minute before I open the sliding door. I turn to close it behind me and see Jack waving me off. I hurry to the beach and go for an easy quarter mile before I ease into a real run. I think about the last year. I was valedictorian of Capeside High School. As I spoke, I looked out over the classmates who had judged and ultimately rejected me, knowing that I would never feel that again. Or at least, if something like that happened again, at least I was numb to it now. There was no way they could ever touch me again. I had risen above their criticism. I would make something of myself and escape the small town. It was the first time that seemed tangible to me, rather than a far-off goal. I almost hopped on a train to New York the next morning, but not having that last summer would've been too hard for Bessie, I think. She complains every so often that the house is too empty, but I finally coaxed her into admitting that she usually didn't notice when I was home anyway because I would hole myself up in my room and read for hours at a time. So I stayed for Bessie, and we made genuine efforts to spend quality time together as a family. We took a trip to the Vineyard, drove up to Canada for a few days. And before I knew it, the summer was over and I was preparing to leave home for New York. I was preparing to strike out on my own. I took the early train to New York, so I was there before lunch. We shipped my things, so all I had for the first day was a small suitcase, the same one sitting on the couch in the house where I was now living. I had packed mostly bedding, and only one change of clothes.

I was slightly disappointed to realize that my room was a single. Of course, I knew that I had "won" the lottery the freshmen were all entered into for the limited number of single dorm rooms, but I didn't realize what that actually meant until I got there. It meant that I was alone. Jack saying I spent a lot of time alone was actually pretty dead on. I didn't join study groups, I didn't get to know anyone in my classes, even the professors, and I pulled straight A's my first semester. I thought Bessie would be proud, and although she did congratulate me and insist that we go out to dinner to celebrate, she furrowed her brow in a brief moment of concern as she looked over the grades I printed from the internet. She told me a few days later that she wasn't sure I was getting everything I could out of my college experience. That was the first time I started to feel lonely at school. I knew Bessie had been right, but I didn't know what to do about it because I've never been comfortable making conversation. Where I come from, as soon as I got the name Joey Potter out of my mouth by way of self-introduction, I had conjured up another snide remark about not realizing I was the daughter of Mike Potter, the notorious criminal and philanderer. At least, that's how it was in that small of a town.

I'm so lost in my train of thought that the volleyball comes about two inches from my nose and lands in the surf to my right. I stop and pick it up. I shield my eyes with my other hand, trying to determine where to throw it when a guy my age jogs up to me. "Sorry about that."

"Here." I say, handing the ball to him.

"Hey, what's your name? I haven't seen you here before."

I fight the urge to tell him that my heart rate is dropping and I need to keep running. I remember I'm here to meet people, and part of that is introducing myself without excuses. "Joey Potter."

"Hi, Joey." He says. "Pacey Witter." He extends a hand and I shake it.

"Nice to meet you." I said.

"Oh yeah. How nice?"

"Well, it's just an expression." I say, and before I catch myself, I continue. "I wouldn't get too excited about it."

He chuckles. "All right, all right."

"Hey man, are you coming or what? You got the ball, let's go," a co-player complains.

"One minute, Krudski." Pacey says, blowing him off easily. "So I haven't seen you around. You a visitor?"

"Sort of. I'm staying in a house down the beach for the summer."

"With who? Anyone I know?"

"Well, I suppose I would have to know the people you know to answer that, wouldn't I?" I smile to let him know I'm teasing, although I'm not sure why I'm teasing a total stranger.

He laughs again. "I suppose you would. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I say. "Probably running the same length of beach."

"What time?" He asks, already walking backwards toward the volleyball game on hiatus because he still has the ball.

"Six a.m." I say, jogging backwards. "Have fun."

"You, too." He says so softly that the words barely reach me. I smile as I turn around and begin running the proper direction, and find that I can't quit smiling. I only spoke with him for a minute, but I noticed a tan, firm body, the brightly colored swim trunks standing out easily against his bronzed skin, covered in a mixture of the light colored sand and sweat. His close-cropped dark hair was streaked by the sun with touches of blonde and bronze, and his eyes were more deeply blue than Jack's.

Although I didn't stay to speak with him, I find that I can't get him out of my mind. I make up a life for this person I barely know, feeling something inside me oddly soaring in a way that it hasn't before. I imagine that he's fairly rugged, raised somewhere that isn't here. He's come quite a way to get away from something. I can't imagine that his family is dysfunctional the way mine is; I stopped looking for someone who understood me on that level a long time ago. I'm sure that his family has their quirks, though. Everyone's does. He looked like he was around my age. Maybe he moved down here to go to school, or maybe he moved down here just to get away. I would imagine that he has a big brother, a mirror image of him, because he seemed okay with being teased. By the time I'm making my return trip up the beach, hoping he'll still be there playing volleyball, I've decided that he's a middle child, with a little sister at home who idolizes him and who lets him scope out all her boyfriends. He's going to school to be an architect, but he does most of his studying on the beach because he can't stand being inside for too long. He travels home at every chance, but he loves his life down here. His parents are probably divorced, so he spends a lot of time during his weekends home with his little sister, doing whatever he can to ensure that she's happy even though she's going back and forth between two homes.

I feel mild disappointment when the volleyball team has abandoned the makeshift court, not bothering to remove the net. Maybe that means they'll be here tomorrow, and I smile.