Dragonfly

Chapter 15

I loved working at the city paper. Even if I was only an intern, it made me feel like I was doing something important, moving into my profession, becoming a newswoman. It helped me forget about my ridiculous personal life. Here, I was doing something important, finding the truth, helping creating a historical record.

Nancy Riggs, my editor, was a cool boss—very laid-back and easy to work with. The county bicentennial was coming up, and she wanted me to help her collect photographs and old clippings for a big tabloid insert she was planning. She also wanted me to help her with regular flashback features leading up to the event, so part of my job was combing through the archives and pulling old images and stories about South County when there was nothing but farms and dirt roads everywhere. It was amazing to see familiar places looking so primitive, and I was usually in the office way later than I was scheduled to work digging through the dusty old files.

The week passed quickly, and I did my best to avoid bumping into Julian at school. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him after what had happened at the birthday party. Not that I was embarrassed, more I felt the need to put some distance between us for now.

Lucy was thrilled with the ring he’d made her, and she was smiling a little more in class every day. Her meetings with the counselor were helping, she said, and on Saturday, when I arrived for my sailing lesson, she was running around her kitchen buzzy and excited. I was pretty buzzy and excited myself as I put my bag on the counter top. Then I saw she was packing a lunch.

“What’s up with the brown bag?” I asked.

“Well, you’ll be glad to hear your little speech about volunteering had some unexpected benefits!”

“You’re volunteering?” My eyebrows rose. “Where?”

“Months Bay,” she said. “They have this program where you can help with dune restoration and get credit. But they do other things—monitoring sea turtle nests, stuff like that. For conservation. I volunteered to help find and label nests.”

“Hey, that’s cool, and it sounds like fun.”

“It is, and guess who else is there earning college credit?” She grinned.

“I have no idea.”

“B.J.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “You found him?”

“It was a total coincidence,” she leaned on the bar looking so much like her old self. “He’s majoring in marine biology or coastal restoration or something, and he’s getting credit for working at the reserve. He’s also helping me learn the ropes, and of course I need lots of additional assistance because I’m just having the hardest time remembering directions.”

We giggled, but she stopped and frowned, looking at my navy tank, cargo capris, and Chucks.

“What? What’s wrong?” I asked.

“First, Skipper, you can’t wear those shoes. Only light-colored soles on the boat. And you’re going to freeze to death in that tank. I’ll loan you one of my windbreakers.”

“Thanks, Barbie.”

She ran up the stairs and returned with a pair of boat shoes and a nylon hooded jacket.

“See if these fit, and if they do, you can have them. I don’t care if I ever sail again.”

“Why not?”

She poked out her tongue. “Makes me nauseous. And don’t let Jack show off the whole time. Just because he was born on a boat doesn’t mean he has the right to annoy you to death with it.”