I muster all my goodwill and courage to overcome the indignity of arriving in Westhampton Beach village in a minivan. After circling Main Street twice, just to mess with me, Dad parallel parks between a Jaguar and a Ferrari. He tips his panama hat at the lady getting out of the Ferrari. It's neverending, the humiliation.
"Would you girls like to eat first?" Mom asks us when we're out of the dorkmobile. She unzips her canvas shoulder bag and pulls out a white bucket hat. She squishes it down over her red bob. I think my parents planned this.
"Sure, Mrs. Blume," answers Stacey.
"Yeah, that sounds good," Emily adds.
My friends glance over at me where I'm hiding behind my Chanel sunglasses while nonchalantly leaning against someone's silver Camaro.
"Yes, let's distance ourselves from that," Mom agrees, jerking her thumb toward the minivan. She starts down the street, expecting everyone to fall into step behind her. We do.
We end up at the same café where Dawn and Emily earlier spotted Anna Stevenson and Kristy Thomas. Anna and Kristy are long gone and I don't give them much thought once we're seated and scanning the menu. Mom and Dad once again give us the courtesy of pretending not to know us, taking a table at the opposite end of the café. My friends and I take a table near the front window, overlooking the patio and Main Street. Dawn and I sit together, facing Stacey and Emily. We take time deliberating over the menu, agreeing to eat light, so we can hit the beach and the water as soon as we return to the house.
When our waitress appears, I'm the first to order. "I'll have the garden salad with the poppy seed dressing," I tell her.
"The grilled cheese on wheat," Emily orders, handing over her menu.
"And I'll have the egg salad sandwich with a side of fruit," Stacey says.
Dawn's still studying the menu when the waitress looks at her expectantly. "Oh, um," Dawn delays. "Um, I'll have the egg salad, too, with the fruit. That sounds good." She offers the waitress her menu.
"On second thought," Stacey tells the waitress, "I'll have the grilled cheese."
"Sure thing," our waitress says with a smile, crossing out Stacey's original order. She smiles again before leaving our table.
Stacey has the decency to look embarrassed when I shoot her a withering glare. She glances away. That's the kind of pettiness I'd expect from Mary Anne these days, not from usually nice, considerate Stacey. I thought we settled this nonsense back at the house. I share a look with Emily. We didn't come to referee. I thought things would be different.
Stacey should make the effort for me.
Instead, she avoids Dawn's gaze, staring at a landscape painting on the wall, sipping her water through a straw.
It's not like Dawn has the plague.
What a fun vacation.
"It was nice of the Wallingfords to loan your parents the minivan," Emily finally breaks the ice. Apparently, that's the best she can do.
"Please, they got the better end of the deal. Mrs. Wallingford's cruising around Stoneybrook in our Lexus right now while we're stuck with the minivan that Disney World threw up."
"I think the Tinkerbell decals are kind of sweet," Stacey says. Stacey's mom drives a station wagon, so Stacey's not exactly objective.
I roll my eyes. "What about that horrid bumper sticker? 'My daughter's a cheerleader at Stoneybrook High School!'" I squeak in a high-pitched voice. "More like 'My daughter's a whore at Stoneybrook High School!' or 'My daughter had an abortion at the Stoneybrook Free Clinic!'"
"You're just a little ray of sunshine today," Dawn tells me.
"I feel sorry for Dorianne," Stacey says, ignoring Dawn.
"I don't," I reply. No one made Dorianne spread her legs for Cary Retlin.
"I don't know what you guys are talking about," Dawn says.
Emily waves her hand. "Just old gossip," she says, dismissively. "Nothing anyone cares about anymore."
"I miss a lot," Dawn comments and I look over at Stacey, thinking she might say something nasty, but Stacey doesn't have anything at all.
Lunch passes. My parents finish before us and wait for us on a bench outside the café, Dad in his panama hat and Mom in her bucket hat. They look like some other girl's parents. Not mine. Mom and Dad walk us to the other end of Main Street, the four of us trailing after them. At the corner, we reach the market, where Mom and Dad want to pick up a few things for the house. Stacey scans the street for boutiques with bathing suits. Luckily, there's one straight across from the market, not too far away to give my mother a heart attack.
And still she says, "Don't go anywhere else. Come straight back to the market when you're through." No one would guess my mother for a worrier.
"Of course, Mrs. Blume. I won't take long," Stacey assures Mom, starting across the street. "Come on, Emily."
Stacey and Emily hurry across the street, arm in arm. I wonder if this will be the whole vacation – Stacey and Emily, Dawn and I.
I've never seen my mother inside a supermarket before, which I mistakenly inform her of. Inside the market, Mom pretends to be fascinated by the shopping cart, pushing it back and forth and loudly marveling, "It's like a basket on wheels!"
"Your mom's crazy," Dawn remarks when we've ditched my parents in the produce section.
"She likes to think she's a comedienne," I reply, dropping some red apples into a bag. We're only buying a few things, just to get us through the long weekend – some breakfast foods, soda and juice, fruit. "Listen though. I'm real sorry about Stacey. I don't know what's gotten into her. She isn't usually like this."
Dawn shrugs. "What did I expect? She's Mary Anne's best friend."
"Still, you've not done anything terrible…right?"
Dawn shrugs again. "Only according to Mary Anne," she answers. "But I don't care what Stacey thinks. Let's just have fun." Dawn gives me a sunny grin.
We're standing in line when Stacey and Emily find us. Stacey has a small black paper bag hanging from her arm. Emily, meanwhile, has jumped on the dumb hat bandwagon and has a lemon-colored wide-brimmed hat perched atop her head. My parents smile politely at her, as if they have room to judge.
"That hat's not going to fit in the minivan," I inform Emily.
"I guess you'll have to walk home then," Emily replies.
"To make room for your ugly hat?" I almost screech.
"I am your guest," Emily reminds me.
Somehow, we manage to fit in the minivan, although Dad has trouble seeing out the rear view mirror because of Emily's hat. When we reach the beach house, the four of us race up the front steps, not bothering to help Dad with the groceries, eager to finally make our appearance on the sandy Westhampton Beach. Once upstairs, we're a flurry of excitement, the earlier strain in the past and forgotten. Dawn and I run back and forth through our Jack-and-Jill bathroom, checking to see who has sunscreen and magazines and extra sunglasses. Across the hall, Emily and Stacey make a commotion, erupting in sporadic peals of laughter.
After much deliberation, I decide on my plum-colored swimsuit for my official Hamptons debut. I brush out my French braid and pin my hair up, fastening it firmly in place with a tortoise shell clip and wrap a floral print sarong around my waist. I switch out my white hoops for my garnet heart earrings, put on my garnet ring, and grab a pair of flip-flops before heading to Dawn's room. Dawn waits on her bed with her stuffed beach bag, wearing a never-before-seen electric blue bikini covered in white stars.
"We're going to the beach, you know, not a fashion show," Dawn points out.
"I look fabulous. Don't be jealous."
In the hall, I call for Stacey and Emily and after several tries, they finally come. Stacey's new swimsuit is a candy apple red bikini. Emily, of course, wears her standard black one-piece, the only swimsuit I've ever seen her in. Unfortunately, she's paired it with her new hat.
"You aren't seriously wearing that, are you?" I ask her.
Emily touches the wide-brim of the hat. "Of course," she answers, testily. "I don't want to get skin cancer!"
I look from Stacey to Dawn for help, but both only shrug. "Whatever," I mumble and lead the way downstairs.
In the kitchen, my parents are putting away the groceries. At least Dad is. Mom's leaning back against the sink, spinning an apple slicer around on her finger.
"That's an apple slicer," I tell her. "You use it to slice apples."
"You don't say? What will they think of next?" Mom replies. I like that she's in a friendlier mood. "Finally headed for the beach, girls? Don't stray farther than from where we can see you from the balcony."
"Yeah, yeah, Mom," I respond while my friends obediently say, "Yes, Mrs. Blume."
We take Fiona Fee's private staircase down to the beach. I slide on my Chanel sunglasses and throw my shoulders back when we reach the bottom of the staircase. I make my entrance, an entrance on a private staircase. And then Emily stumbles and knocks me face first into the sand.
"Sorry, sorry," Emily apologizes, scrambling to get off of me.
So much for great entrances.
I brush myself off, glancing around furtively. No one on the beach notices and I gather my things and lead the way from the stairs. It's well into the afternoon and the beach is bustling with activity. There are a lot of college-age kids running up and down the shoreline, and groups of teenage girls gathered around the lifeguard towers, and a few clusters of children playing in the sand with their young, pretty nannies. I choose a spot that's well clear of all these people, checking behind me to see if we're in view of the house. We are. I shake out my beach towel and the others follow suit.
"What should we do first?" Dawn asks as we settle onto our towels.
Stacey looks up from her legs, where she's generously spreading sun tan lotion. "What do you mean?" she asks. "Isn't this what we're going to do?"
I take out my bottle of SPF 45 sunscreen and begin slathering it on my arms. I already feel the sun's rays violating my porcelain skin. "We're basking in the sun," I tell Dawn.
"Doesn't anyone want to get in the ocean?" Dawn asks.
Stacey wrinkles her nose. "No thanks," she says and pours sun tan lotion on her bare stomach.
"Maybe later," I add.
Dawn looks to Emily, who's also coating herself in sunscreen. Emily pretends to not notice Dawn's gaze for as long as possible, then finally says, "I'm not supposed to go in the water."
"What?" says Dawn.
"The undertow might get me. Or a shark."
"Your mother's beyond ridiculous," I inform Emily.
"Beaches scare her."
"I don't think there are any sharks around here," Dawn assures Emily.
Emily doesn't give in and Dawn finally gives up, flopping back onto her towel. I take out the new issue of People and catch up on the latest Skyllo gossip. He and the Insect's lead guitarist have been wreaking havoc down under in Australia, trashing at least four hotel rooms in the last week. Beside me, Stacey slips on her headphones and disappears behind my copy of Teen. I try to ignore the fact that Emily appears to be reading a Shakespearean play. On the beach. On vacation. I sigh, inwardly, and flip to the movie reviews.
After half an hour, Dawn's had enough. She pushes herself up, kicking sand onto my towel (which I kick back with gusto), and takes off toward the water. Emily and I watch her dive into the surf, disappearing beneath the salty water. Even Stacey, stretched out on her stomach, looks over her shoulder to watch Dawn.
"Okay, it's really hot," Emily announces.
"Maybe Fiona Fee has an umbrella in her garage," I suggest.
"Maybe," Emily agrees, hesitantly. Then just as hesitantly, puts down her book and stands. She drops her hat onto her towel. "Please don't hide my hat," she says before scampering off, down to the water's edge.
"Emily Elaine!" I call after her. "Listen to your mother!"
Emily ignores me, not even offering a nasty back glance. I watch her dip a tentative toe into the water then leap back with a yelp. Dawn spots her and wades through the water toward Emily, whooping and splashing at her. It almost looks fun. But cold.
"Stacey," I start when it doesn't look like Emily's coming back anytime soon.
Silence.
"Stace," I say again, jostling her arm.
Stacey rolls onto her side, removing her headphones. "What?" she asks.
"Let's talk."
"About what?" Stacey replies, propping herself onto her elbow.
"Look, I know you're in a difficult spot," I begin and the smile vanishes from Stacey's lips. Suddenly, she realizes why I've roused her. "Mary Anne's my friend, too," I plunge on. "I know you think I'm being unfair to her and I know Mary Anne thinks I'm trying to hurt her. I'm not and this has nothing to do with her. Mary Anne's my friend, but so is Dawn."
"I thought your grandmother was making you hang out with her."
Those words keep returning to haunt me. I recover quickly. "That was then, this is now. It took some effort and looking past her fashion flaws, but Dawn's my friend. She isn't an awful, horrible monster. She's…she's a lot like us. Just a normal girl." I pause and wait for Stacey to comment. She doesn't, so I add, "Now, I don't know exactly why Dawn and Mary Anne are fighting…" I draw it out and by the look on Stacey's face, I realize she doesn't know either.
"Mary Anne hasn't exactly told me either," she admits. "I mean, aside from annoying things Dawn's done around the house and rude comments she's made. They just don't get along anymore. You don't really know Dawn, Grace. I know Mary Anne. She doesn't keep secrets from me."
I watch Stacey's face. "She didn't mention an argument a few days ago?" I ask.
"No. She just said that Dawn lies."
Stacey doesn't lie. And her face doesn't lie now. She doesn't know about Dawn and Mr. Marshall. She doesn't know about Dawn's accusation and retraction. Mary Anne didn't tell her. Mary Anne's keeping secrets.
I feel sorry for Stacey. I feel sorry for her unshakable confidence in Mary Anne.
And deep down, I envy it.
"Dawn's still my friend, Stace. Can you try not to be such a bitch to her?"
"I wasn't trying to be a bitch!" Stacey protests. "I just…I'm in a tough spot, Grace. I'm sorry. I'll try harder. I don't want to spoil anyone's vacation."
"Thanks, Stacey," I say and settle back down onto my towel, signaling the end of our heart-to-heart. She might try to hug me or something.
"But Grace…"
I push up onto my elbows to regard Stacey again.
"You really don't know Dawn."
I don't have time to think of a sharp response.
"Heads up!"
A volleyball smacks down in the middle of our towels, knocking over my thermos of ice water and toppling our pillar of magazines. After the volleyball, a body dives in, a body with a messy tangle of dark, curly hair. Stacey and I shriek as we're sprayed with a shower of sand. The volleyball within her grip, the curly head turns to us and Abby Stevenson spits out a mouthful of sand.
"I know how to make an entrance."
"Abby Stevenson, get off my legs!" I shriek and kick her in the boob. (Or where her boob would be if she had any).
"God," Stacey curses, frantically brushing the sand off her towel.
"No, sorry, just Abby," quips Abby.
I roll my eyes and resist the urge to hurl her volleyball into the ocean.
Abby jumps to her feet and brushes the sand off her teal tankini. She manages to keep her mouth shut long enough to help Stacey and I shake out our towels. By then, Abby's twin, Anna, and Kristy Thomas are jogging toward us, both is tankinis that match Abby's, except in indigo and navy, respectively. Seeing them, Dawn jogs in from the water with Emily trudging behind her, waving an arm in the air, calling, "Hi, Anna!"
"Hey guys," Kristy greets us, stopping beside Stacey. "What are you doing here?"
"We were enjoying a gorgeous day at the beach before Gabrielle Reece interrupted," I reply.
"Now, now," says Abby. "Gabrielle Reece only wishes she were as good as me."
"Ignore my sister, please," Anna says.
Kristy does just that, probably out of habit. "I can't believe you guys are here. What a weird coincidence. Did you just get here today?" she asks and without waiting for confirmation, looks over at Dawn, registering her presence for the first time. "Hey, Dawn," she says. "It's been a long time." Kristy steps forward and wraps her arms around Dawn, pulling her into a hug. Dawn hugs her back, smiling over Kristy's shoulder.
When they pull apart, Dawn tells Kristy, "We just got in a few hours ago. Grace's parents brought us. We're staying right up there, in Fiona Fee's beach house. Grace's parents shill her underwear."
I roll my eyes.
"It's so cool that you guys are here," Abby informs us. "We've been here since Wednesday and quite frankly – " Abby drops her voice and points to Kristy and Anna, "these two are getting a little boring."
"Shut up, Abby," Kristy responds. "Hey, if you're all done laying around and baking, want to join our volleyball game? We've been playing two-on-Abby. It'll be more fun with actual teams."
Abby's arm shoots into the air. "I call Grace and her giraffe legs!" she shouts.
"Volleyball's not my game," I say. As a general rule, I dislike team sports. Tennis and swimming are different. When I'm out there, it's all me. Abby and Kristy play volleyball at Stoneybrook Day, where they go to school. Volleyball's an odd game for Kristy, who's smaller even than Emily. But I've seen her play. She's little but mighty.
"I have an idea," Dawn pipes up. "Let's go back to the house and use the swimming pool! We're already in our swimsuits. How about that?" Dawn looks over at me. "Your parents won't mind, will they?" she asks.
"Yeah!" cheers Abby.
I hesitate and glance over at Kristy. Stacey thinks I'm looking at her and makes a face. But Kristy sees me and hesitates, too.
"I don't know, Ab," she says, "we told your grandparents we'd be down here."
"That's okay. I can run back and tell them."
"We shouldn't intrude on the Blumes," Kristy says, emphasizing the name.
"They won't mind. They're cool," Dawn insists. She's eager. I have to wonder if it's because Kristy's one of the few who's been happy to see her.
"We'll stay outside. They won't even know we're there," Abby adds, not getting it. She doesn't notice the silent look that passes between Kristy and I. Kristy and I are thinking of the same thing, the same thing we've probably been thinking since first laying eyes on each other. It's what runs through our minds, always, when we are together. We see each other every so often, every now and then, around town throughout the year and in September, at Mary Anne's birthday parties. We don't talk. We pass each other silently. And in that silence, we speak all the things we cannot say.
Three years ago, on a warm August night, we did a very, very bad thing. Kristy, Abby, and I. And Cokie. Cokie, my then best friend. And afterward, we parted. Kristy and Abby's parents sent them to Stoneybrook Day to save them. And my parents said no more Cokie. No more Cokie, and stay away from Kristy and Abby, too.
It was a very, very bad thing.
We think of it, Kristy and I, on the sunny Westhampton Beach today. We think it and no one hears, not even Abby. And our unspoken protests fall on deaf ears as Anna Stevenson helps Dawn and Emily gather our things while Abby sprints off to find her grandparents.
I am reluctantly pulled along.
Kristy and Anna leave us, to haul their own belongings back to their own beach house. Our towels and swimsuits covered in sand, Dawn, Stacey, Emily, and I head up Fiona Fee's private staircase. It's a harder climb going up and Emily whines most of the way. Mom meets us on the back porch and when she learns we intend to swim, makes us hose off our feet and legs. We mustn't leave sand in Fiona Fee's swimming pool. We climb up to the balcony and drop our stuff there, then go back downstairs and into the kitchen. We track in some sand, but Mom doesn't notice. The four of us sit around the kitchen table, drinking sodas (except Dawn, who opts for water) and snacking of fresh pineapple and papaya. I hope that the others change their minds.
That hope is dashed a few minutes later when we hear Abby on the porch, calling our names.
"Who is that shrieking out there?" Mom demands coming into the kitchen.
"It's just Abby Stevenson," I reply, as we stand from the table. "We ran into her on the beach."
"Who?" Mom asks.
"Abby Stevenson, Mom." I raise my eyebrows at her in a meaningful way. "She's outside with her sister and Kristy Thomas."
"They're coming over to swim," explains Dawn. "We hope that's okay."
Recognition has set in for Mom. Her hands go to her throat and she stares out the window at Abby's curly head bobbing past and then back at me. "I don't…I can't be held responsible…Grace," Mom says my name sharply and walks out of the kitchen. She means for me to follow her.
Dawn, Stacey, and Emily exchange worried looks.
"Are you in trouble?" Emily asks.
"I'm sorry," Dawn apologizes. "I didn't think…."
"No, you didn't," Stacey says. "You should have asked Grace first."
"Knock it off," I snap. "I'm not in trouble." I walk briskly out of the room, following after my mother.
Mom's in the foyer, waiting. She doesn't question me. She simply waits.
"We ran into them on the beach," I start my explanation. "Stacey, Dawn, Kristy, and Abby used to be good friends. Dawn and Stacey don't know how you feel about…" I jerk my head back toward the kitchen. I drop Stacey's name in there, so all is not on Dawn. Dawn doesn't know how Mom feels about her either. "I didn't invite them. It just sort of happened."
"Grace, you know your father and I want you to stay away from those girls," Mom tells me. She lowers her voice. "You know what happened last time. They'll get you in trouble again."
Sometimes, it's like my mother doesn't think I have a mind of my own.
"I thought you said it was Cokie's fault," I say to Mom.
"I don't like it, Grace."
"I've not done anything since then."
"Two weeks ago, you drove into a tree."
"That was an accident."
"It was an accident three years ago, too."
This is the most my mother and I have talked about it since it happened. Usually, it's all for me and my memory.
"They aren't my friends, Mom."
Mom regards me with a blank face. Finally, she says, "Just go swim. We'll talk about it later."
But we never will.
Dawn, Stacey, and Emily are on the back porch with Kristy, Abby, and Anna. I join them and my friends shoot me inquisitive looks, which I brush aside, charging past toward the staircase. The swimming pool overlooks the beach below and everyone gasps in awe, even though my friends have already seen it. Stacey slides onto a chaise lounge and motions for me to join her, but I pretend I don't see and instead, jump feet first into the pool, so I don't have to answer her questions.
When I resurface, Kristy and Abby cannonball on either side of me, sending a huge wave out of the pool and drenching Stacey. Stacey shrieks and waves her soaked copy of #1 Fan in the air.
"Is everything okay with your mom?" Emily asks me, swimming over from the steps.
"She was just worried about our dinner plans," I lie and swim away.
I manage to dodge any other questions.
It takes thirty minutes of coaxing, but Stacey finally gets in the swimming pool. In spite of herself, she starts to have fun, forgetting Mary Anne and her loyalties. Or maybe those thoughts are always there, drifting at the back of her mind. I know those kinds of thoughts. But for all appearances, Stacey changes, changes back into the Stacey I know. The warm, familiar Stacey. She is a Stacey to like.
After an hour, Emily and I leave the pool, retiring to chaise lounges. Emily plops her silly hat back on her head and when our skin dries, we reapply our sunscreen. I can already see that Emily's nose and shoulders are red. I worry silently over my own skin.
Kristy, Abby, and Anna leave when my father comes out to check on us. He doesn't run them off, but his presence reminds them of the time and other obligations. We say our goodbyes and Dawn walks them back around to the front porch. It wasn't so bad, considering.
We lay on chaise lounges until Stacey and Dawn are as dry as Emily and I. Then, after far too much sun, we return to the house. Inside, Dad mentions dinner and we head upstairs. I'm feeling charitable, so I allow Dawn to shower first. I'm also feeling sleepy from the sun, so I lay on the bed, eyes closed, listening to the crashing waves through the open window, mixing with the sounds of Dawn in the shower. I don't sleep. There's something keeping me awake.
I'm brushing out my hair when Dawn slips into my bedroom, dressed in an oversized t-shirt with a towel wrapped around her head. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm out," she tells me.
"All right, thanks."
Dawn hesitates. "And…and I wanted to tell you that Stacey was right. I should have asked first before inviting Kristy and the others over. Sometimes I don't think."
"It's not a big deal."
Dawn gasps. "Where has your bite gone, Grace Blume?"
I growl at her.
Dawn chuckles and returns to her room.
I set my hairbrush down on the vanity. I stop. I look down at my hands. My heart skips. The garnet ring is missing.