Chapter 6 Spring Break #4
Hannah says nothing. Baker brushes the sand off her towel. The seagulls fly above them, filling the silence with their high-pitched squawks.
“Can we go back to pretending we have a lot of time left?” Baker asks.
Hannah clears her throat. “Yeah. Did you bring a book?”
“Always.”
“Do you want to have a reading party?”
Baker smiles like Hannah has said the most wonderful thing in the world.
They drink by the pool again that night. Clay starts them in a game of truth-or-dare, which then evolves into a game of dares, which then evolves into anonymously calling their teachers to say increasingly ridiculous things.
“Hi, yes, hello,” Luke says, affecting a high, squeaky voice as he speaks into Clay’s cell phone. “I’d like a large pizza. A very large pizza. The largest pizza you have. Pronto.”
Mr. Manceau’s agitated voice crackles through the speakerphone. “This isn’t a pizza company. You have the wrong number.”
“What? Oh, my good sir, I am so sorry! I seem to make this mistake frequently—if you only knew the extent of my ignorance! But hey, while I have you, could you recommend a good pizza place?”
“Goodbye,” Mr. Manceau says.
“NO! Wait! I need my pizza!”
They hear the dial tone through the speaker, but before they can regroup, Luke dials the number again.
“Okay, fine, if you can’t give me a large pizza, I’ll just take a medium—”
“Stop calling me!” Mr. Manceau yells. “This is a personal cell phone number!”
“Then why is it listed online as the number for Small Dick’s Pizza Palace?”
“Ex-cuse me? Is this a prank call? Who is this?!”
“Catch you later, Dick,” Luke says crisply, hanging up the phone. Clay and Wally wheeze with laughter, and Joanie leans her head into her hand with a fond look in her eyes.
“All right, I’ve gotta go to bed,” Luke says. “I’m exhausted from Mass this morning.”
“Yeah, me too,” Joanie says, standing up with him.
“Right, so the rest of us will just stay here and pretend like you two aren’t hooking up inside,” Clay says.
“Thanks,” Luke says, taking hold of Joanie’s hand. “We appreciate it.”
Clay pours another round of whiskey after Joanie and Luke go inside. He holds up his glass for a toast, and Hannah, Baker, and Wally oblige him. “Cheers to the spring break organizer,” Wally says, nodding at Clay, and the rest of them echo the sentiment.
“Let’s keep this game going,” Clay says as he settles back on his chair. “I love truth-or-dare.”
“You just like to talk about sex,” Hannah says, kicking her foot into his armpit.
Clay smacks her foot aside, but he’s grinning. “Yes I do. Even though it’s not very fun with you all, since none of you can talk about it with me.”
“Hey,” Wally says, and in the dim porch lights, Hannah can see his blush. “You need to stop bringing that up.”
“I’m just messing with you, man.”
“All right, Clay, I’ve got a truth-or-dare for you,” Hannah says.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to tell us what song was playing when you lost your virginity.”
“I—” Clay falters. He shakes his whiskey glass and smirks at the patio stones, almost in amusement at himself. “I told you that in confidence, Han.”
“Funny how ‘in confidence’ works, huh, asshole?” Wally says, but there is no bite in his voice.
“Wally makes a good point,” Baker says. “You owe him.”
Clay narrows his eyes teasingly. Baker stares him down until he relents.
“All right, fine. So … when it happened, Michele told me to put some music on, so I just hit play on my phone, and the last song that had been playing was ‘Colorblind’ by Counting Crows. I didn’t really care what we listened to, so I just started going for it, you know, but then the song ended and replayed, and I realized I’d somehow put it on repeat. ”
“Are you serious?” Baker smiles.
“I’m serious.”
“Why the hell had you been listening to ‘Colorblind’?” Wally asks.
“Dude, I don’t know, I just was.”
“So you never took a break to change the song?” Baker asks, her voice becoming increasingly amused.
“I was busy,” Clay says emphatically, leaning forward in his chair. “And besides, it ended up being kind of nice. Kind of, you know, emo-romantic.”
Wally snorts into his hand. “Oh man, I can’t believe you never told me that story.”
“Well, now you can thank Hannah for bringing it up.”
“Hey, you were making fun of the three of us,” Hannah says. “All I did was put it back on you.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Clay says, taking a long pull from his whiskey glass. “I made love beautifully that night.”
“Do you have the song on your phone right now?” Wally asks.
“Probably.”
“Play it,” Hannah goads.
“No chance.”
“Play it,” Baker says, nudging him with her foot.
Clay fixes her with a look; her teasing smile grows bigger until Clay smiles in turn. “Fine,” he says, making a show of fishing his phone out of his pocket. “But y’all are not allowed to laugh.”
“Why would we laugh?” Hannah asks innocently.
“Can you do a reenactment in time with the song?” Baker says.
“I don’t know why I’m listening to you,” Clay says as he sets his phone on the table and hits play.
Within the first three sad, somber notes, Baker starts to giggle.
She holds her hand over her mouth, much like she did in church that morning, and shakes with barely restrained laughter.
Her laughter is contagious, so that Hannah starts to giggle, too, and then Wally starts to outright cackle, slumping back in his chair with his hands on his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” Baker gasps, seeing Clay’s fake-wounded face, “it’s just, like, the depressing sound of this song, and the lyrics—”
“How did you not pause it?” Hannah says. “What did Michele say?”
“She didn’t say anything,” Clay says, grabbing his phone off the table to stop the music. “She was too busy moaning.”
“Oh, gross,” Hannah says, at the same time that Baker says, “Okay, ew.”
“Dude,” Wally says, shaking his head.
“What? It’s true. Someday soon you’ll all get laid, and then we’ll be able to have a real conversation about this. But anyway, it’s my turn to ask truth-or-dare.”
“Can we veto that?” Hannah asks. “I have a feeling you’re going to punish us.”
“I’ll be nice,” Clay says. He shakes his whiskey glass back and forth, and they all wait.
“Baker,” he says.
“I knew I shouldn’t have laughed,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” Clay grins. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth, obviously.”
“What’s the best make out you’ve ever had? More specifically, who was the best make out you’ve ever had?”
Baker freezes, her mouth falling open in surprise. Hannah’s whole body goes rigid, her heart sprinting away in her chest. She clutches her whiskey glass in both hands, telling herself to take a drink, to act nonchalant, but she feels unable to do anything other than wait for Baker’s answer.
“I should probably add that you are allowed to name someone here,” Clay says haughtily, raising his eyebrows.
Color floods Baker’s cheeks, and Hannah realizes that Baker feels trapped by the implication, as she never told Hannah about making out with Clay.
“Come on, really?” Clay says, his shoulders slumping.
“I—” Baker says.
“Damn.” Clay falls back against his chair. “Who was better than me?”
Now Baker looks absolutely mortified: Her cheeks are tinged dark, and her expression is completely helpless. But there’s something else in her reluctance, too: that ruptured look Hannah has noticed more and more lately, like she’s warring internally with herself.
“It was you,” Baker tells him finally, with an air of shoving the words out just to keep breathing. She makes fleeting eye contact with Clay before looking down at the patio stones, clearly bracing to say something she doesn’t want to. “I hadn’t told Hannah yet.”
“Oh,” Clay says, his eyes shifting uncomfortably from Baker to Hannah. Hannah doesn’t look at him. “Sorry. I told Wally, and I just assumed you had told Hannah—”
“Sorry,” Baker whispers, turning her head toward Hannah. She meets Hannah’s eyes for only a flickering second.
“It’s cool,” Hannah says.
There’s a long, awkward pause, and then Clay reaches for the whiskey bottle again. “Well,” he says, his voice embarrassingly hearty, “at least I know I was your best.”
The next day, they sleep late and finally get to the beach around noon.
Wally and Clay convince Hannah to swim in the ocean with them, and even though Hannah feels irrationally sore at Clay, she agrees to go with them, mostly to avoid sitting awkwardly on the beach with Baker.
They bob in the waves, scraping their toes against the mushy bottom sand, and Hannah’s senses turn themselves over to everything salt water: salt water on her tongue, salt water in her nose, salt water stinging a half-healed blister on her ankle.
“I have to take a piss,” Clay says, sweeping a hand through his dark wet hair. He swims away toward an open spot in the ocean, leaving Hannah and Wally to themselves.
“Is he just gonna go in the water?” Hannah asks incredulously, straining her eyes against the sunlight.
“He’s been doing it all week,” Wally laughs. “Luke, too.”
“Please tell me you haven’t been doing that.”
“I’m not saying anything either way.”
“Ew.”
“Everyone pees in the ocean, Han.”
Something moves against Hannah’s calf, startling her. She looks down but can’t see anything past the surface of the water. Then Wally starts to laugh in that small, shy way he has.
“It was just me,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
Hannah winds up her arm and sweeps water into Wally’s face. He sputters and throws his arms up to shield himself, and Hannah starts to laugh.
“It was just me,” she says. “Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, I see that,” Wally says, his mouth curved into a smile, his eyes large and bright and vividly green in the absence of his glasses.
“Yo,” Clay says, swimming back toward them. “Pretty sure I just unleashed about a liter of Jack Daniel’s into this ocean.”
“You’re disgusting,” Hannah tells him.
“So, Han,” Clay continues, as if she hadn’t said anything, “now that you know about Baker and me—”
Hannah’s stomach knots in on itself.