Less Than Three

Chapter 22: Swashbuckled

That didn't mean Dave was his usual self that night. Nope. He was quiet at the coffee shop. I tried all the usual topics: music, video games, snack cakes, nothing worked. When he excused himself for the bathroom, I listened for the shrieking faucet, then developed a sudden urge to pee. As soon as he opened the door, I pushed him back inside the tiny room.

"Cat got your tongue?" I said. Gah. Why did I have to inherit my dad's bad cliché gene?

"Something like that."

"I can't believe you're acting this way. I mean, what is so terrible about talking to a beautiful girl? "

"It's not that," he said and frowned. "It's just ... It's hard to ... to pretend that I ... I ..."

I didn't want to go anywhere near what Dave might be pretending. But if I didn't, he might waste the best opportunity we had to set the world right again. I took a deep breath. "Look," I told him, "I'm not saying that I didn't ..." He held his hand up to stop me, "... feel anything the other night."

"I talked to my grandma today," he said.

Okay. Changing the subject could work too. "The one who taught you to golf?"

He flinched. For a second I still thought it was all about me, but then I read the sadness in his eyes and I knew it was something deeper. "Want to talk about it?"

Dave blinked hard and shook his head. Whatever it was, it mattered to him. A lot.

"You don't have to do this thing tonight," I said.

He swallowed and then his lips made that slow crawl over his teeth. His eyes found their target in mine. "Actually, Summer, I do," he said. That's when he winked, pushed open the door, and swaggered away. He turned back once to say, "Let's go play pirate."

Huh?

***

The air at the beach held a hot, expectant quality and dark clouds gathered on the other side of the lake. Madison sat cross-legged, lifting piles of sand and letting them slip through her fingers. Craig and Dave played a twisted form of tic tac toe. Me? I tried to be still and contemplate how to get the Secret Plan going before the storm rolled in.

Craig needed to step up. I leaned back and flicked pebbles at him to get his attention. "What?" he finally asked, but I couldn't say anything then because Madison turned her eyes in our direction. As promised, her swashbuckling sensors were on red alert.

Craig returned to his game and I went back to tossing pebbles. Every third one or so, he'd glance at me and I'd do my best to communicate with head bobs and neck twists until Madison looked over too, then I'd go all innocent. When I heard a rumble of thunder, I picked out a bigger stone and aimed for Craig's butt.

"You're askin' for it," he said, and crawled in my direction. I saw my chance, stood, and jogged a short way down the beach. Craig caught me, lifted me in the air, then dropped me back on the sand. He plopped down beside me and smiled. "Nice night," he said.

"It will be," I told him. Then I reminded him that pirating was more easily accomplished without an audience. He concurred. We stood again and tried sneaking away.

"Hey! Where you going?" Dave called.

The way I saw things, we had two options: Give up. Or. Run away. I grabbed Craig's hand and took off. We'd made it halfway across the beach when he jerked me to a halt. "Maybe we should try being honest," he said.

"Oh ... sure," I told him, between ragged breaths. Note to Self: Gymnastics camp will be here sooner than you think. Get on that running thing again. Soon.