20. Darcy
DARCY
Her parents were losing it that summer. All her mother could talk about was the Tree House property she couldn’t sell. Darcy had bigger issues and so did Adam. She was beginning to think her dad did, too.
She was still upset from what happened that afternoon. After camp she’d bumped into the Junior Golf Team. All summer Darcy had been strategic about avoiding them; camp ended at three-thirty and the team’s daily practice started at four.
Sometimes she saw one of them from a distance and she’d wave before ducking in the opposite direction. So far it had worked, until that afternoon when she’d run into Hallie Majors outside the locker room. Hallie was a former teammate, one division beneath her. Word was that with Darcy off the team, Hallie had moved into her spot. She was good, but she wasn’t that good.
“Hey, we miss you,” Hallie said, her big blue eyes searching Darcy’s face. Darcy knew they all wondered why she’d quit so suddenly.
“Yeah, I miss you, too,” Darcy lied. She was caught off guard by Hallie’s red-and-blue team visor, just like she used to wear. “I figured it’s time to play something new, you know, for college applications and all.”
Hallie regarded her curiously. Everyone who knew Darcy knew her golf ranking was enough to get her into a good school. “Oh, that’s cool. So, what’re you playing?”
“Playing?” Darcy stared blankly at her, instantly regretting what she’d said. “Um, I haven’t decided yet. Maybe tennis.” Then she’d abruptly excused herself, saying she had to go find a camper.
On her way out, she couldn’t help but glance over at the driving range. Practice was starting. Three carts were lined up at the edge of the range, ready to go. There was Vince talking with Hallie, and a couple of the other girls from the team. When Vince rested his hand on Hallie’s shoulder, the way he used to with her, Darcy pulled her gaze away and hurried for her car.
Now, she was stuck in her backyard pool listening to her parents argue about the club. All summer her father had complained that nobody was using the new pool. So what happened when she and Adam finally used it? Her parents burned dinner on the grill and fought. God, she could not wait for college.
The worst was they were pretending not to fight, which no parent anywhere could ever pull off. It was a joke, really. They’d already spent the last couple days arguing about Adam’s office job—which her father had sworn he’d get back—and so far hadn’t. Adam refused to go back to the club until he did.
Every night at dinner was the same monologue, “I have to finish the July billing with Jane. It has to be mailed out Friday!” And then, “There was a problem with the Brennans’ account. They were double-charged at the restaurant. I don’t know if Jane told them about it.” The kid was hyper focused on a job he didn’t realize he was probably never getting back. Her mother was mad at her father. The whole thing was a mess.
But today (good news!), there was something new to argue about. “So, the Crenshaws are in?” Her mother sounded amused, which seemed to bother her father even more.
“The Crenshaw-Creevys,” her father corrected her morosely. “And yes, they’re in.”
“I thought you said over your dead body…”
“I say a lot of things about my job, Ingrid,” her father said flatly. “In case you can’t tell, things aren’t exactly going as I’d planned.”
“What about my job?” Adam started.
In unison, both parents replied, “Dad is working on it!” Liars.
Darcy had only been half-listening until the mention of the neighbors’ new membership. It was the only interesting thing her parents had said in days.
She glanced across the fence at the neighbors’. They were kind of crazy, no doubt. From the RV to the scarecrow shooting to their loud parties and the pot smoke, they were nothing like the other families on Maple Drive. Which Darcy was beginning to think might not be such a bad thing.
Darcy had only ever seen Flick’s mom at a distance, but she was memorable. Mrs. Crenshaw was tiny with wild dark hair and tight bright-colored clothes. Vivid, compared to Ingrid with her shapeless dishwater wardrobe. But whatever—if you had it, flaunt it, as Lily always said. (Except when it came to Ashley Riley, who did nothing but flaunt it.) As for the stepdad, Darcy could understand her father’s angst. The guy was huge in all ways: huge vehicles, huge money (hello, orange Lamborghini), huge parties, and huge rudeness. Flick didn’t seem to like Stan much, was the vibe she’d gotten. But as different as the Crenshaw-Creevys may have been, at least they weren’t boring.
The same could not be said for the club. From the faded chintz curtains to the old people in their starched shirts to the tired chicken cordon bleu on the menu, Mayhaven was like a time capsule permanently frozen in the boring era. Nothing there ever changed. If the neighbors were going to be members then maybe, finally, things might get shaken up.
Her eyes were drawn to a flutter of movement in one of the second floor windows. Darcy looked up and saw Flick. Was he spying on her? She sucked in her stomach and waved. And then—because everything else was already going wrong—she decided to text him.
Just after midnight, Darcy slipped downstairs and out the back door. The pool surface danced as clouds drifted across the face of the moon, and she hurried barefoot through the back gate. Her heart pounded as she approached the RV. It was almost too dark to see, but every now and then the moonlight on the ground shifted with the sky.
“Flick?” she called softly.
“Over here.”
Her eyes darted to the side of the RV where a person took shape in the shadows, and she exhaled. It had been her idea to meet up, but now she wondered if it was a mistake. Too late, she told herself as she took a deep breath and walked up to where he stood.
“Hi,” she said, hoping her shaky voice didn’t betray her.
“You showed.”
He sounded like he’d been unsure, and it emboldened her. “So, are you giving me a tour or what?”
The RV, the source of her father’s consternation, was also a source of mystery. If Stan Crenshaw wasn’t going to move it, then Darcy figured she had a right to at least see what was inside.
Flick dangled the keys between them. “Okay, but we can’t turn on any lights or make any noise, got it?”
“Got it.”
“And you should probably take your shoes off,” Flick said. “If Stan finds out we’ve been in there…”
She raised a bare foot in the moonlight and he shook his head in exasperation.
“Relax, I’ll wipe them off,” she said, clapping him on the back like an old friend. Already, this was fun.
Flick unlocked the door and held it open. As she climbed the steps, the synthetic smell of new leather and carpeting hit her. “Wow, have you guys even used this thing yet?”
“Stan and my mom are supposed to take it to Maine later this summer.”
Darcy walked down the narrow aisle, feeling like she was in a high-end kiddie clubhouse. “I think even my dad would appreciate this,” she joked, running her hands over the burnished wood tabletop in the kitchen.
Flick made a noise. “Probably not.”
“No. Probably not.”
Beyond the kitchen and dinette was a sitting area with a long leather sofa, two side chairs and an overhead TV. “What’s in the back?” she asked.
“The master bedroom.”
“Oh.” Darcy sat down on the sofa. No need to give him any ideas.
Flick took a seat next to her.
It was so quiet in the dark RV, with the door closed, the peepers and all the night noises shut out. Suddenly she had no idea what to say. Her palms started to sweat on the leather sofa. “So…”
“So, did Adam get his job back?”
She was touched that Adam was the first thing he wanted to talk about.
“No. My parents are butting heads over it. My dad is still trying, but I guess the board has to meet about it or some-thing.”
“That’s stupid.”
“I know I said it already, but it was nice of you to check on Adam like that. He doesn’t usually like talking to new people.”
Flick laughed softly. “I don’t think he did.”
“No,” Darcy assured him. “Believe me, that was Adam not minding.”
“Well, it was no big deal. I felt bad.”
“I talked to Spencer about it, after. I’m hoping he’ll say something to his dad.”
Even in the shadows she could see Flick tilt his head back and smile. “I’m sure that will solve everything.”
She was reminded of the night in the golf cart. “Why do you hate him so much?”
Flick looked over at her. “Why did you ask me out here tonight?”
He had her. If she were completely honest, she’d admit that she didn’t know herself. That she’d hoped on some level that seeing him might answer that very question, among others. Like why she thought about him. And why she felt safe enough with him to talk about Adam and her parents fighting. “I heard you guys joined the club,” she said instead.
“My mom and Stan did, yeah.”
“Not you?” She was surprised at his lack of enthusiasm. “I thought that would be a big deal.”
“A big deal?” He snorted. “Like, I’m lucky I got in?”
That was a low blow, but she could send it back to his court. “Lucky how?”
“Come on, Darcy. I’m not some preppy rich kid.”
“Neither am I.”
But she’d hit a nerve and Flick was on a roll. “I’m from Queens. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I’m not white.”
“You need to relax. I meant it would be a big deal because you seemed to like it there. And you’re new in town.” Why was it they seemed to argue every time they talked? She couldn’t imagine a single thing she’d argue with Spencer about, besides what his dad did to Adam.
“I don’t care about belonging to the club,” he said, finally. “I know you think I should.”
“I don’t think that at all. I don’t belong.”
“Your dad is the president.”
She laughed. “It’s just his job.” She let this sink in. “My dad works there, I work there. Until a few days ago, Adam worked there, too. We’re the staff, you’re the member. So, now who’s the rich kid?”
Flick grew quiet. “Sorry, I guess I assumed it was different for you. President is a step up from kitchen help. You guys live in the same neighborhood as I do, and you’re always at the club, so it seemed like…”
“Yeah, well, a lot of things seem other than they are.”
“You don’t seem to like the club,” Flick said. “And you quit golf. So why do you work there?”
Where to begin? Sure, she hated Mayhaven, but not for the reasons he seemed to. “I needed a summer job.”
“There are lots of places you could work.” Flick studied her in the dark. “I don’t think you hate it as much as you say you do.”
“Oh, I do.” But even as she said it, Darcy felt the effort it took. It was the hating part that took the most out of her. Because the truth was that mixed in with all that anger was so much of her history, so much of it good. And hating your history required you to hate a part of yourself. “But I didn’t always,” she admitted softly. “Did you ever try to forget something bad from the past?”
Flick leaned in. “Tell me more.”
Darcy didn’t have the words at first, but they came to her like rainfall on a summer night: a gentle pitter-patter, followed by a storm surge. She told Flick how all her childhood birthday parties were held at the club beach, and how Mossimo made her a three-layer princess cake at least five years in a row, even though he said he didn’t bake cakes for anyone, ever. That when she was eight years old she’d learned to waltz at the Fourth of July dinner dance when grumpy old Neiman Shrive, who was much less grumpy then, held her hands and let her place her feet atop his and sailed her around the dance floor. She told Flick about the time she was learning to drive and her mother gave her a parking lesson in the club lot, but she accidentally hit the gas instead of the brakes and ran over an entire stand of golf bags. And how last summer she and Lily snuck a bottle of wine and got drunk for the first time and Lily dared her to jump naked off the docks. And how some of the caddies came down to get stoned and she had to run into the woods naked while Lily snuck back for her clothes. As the stories spilled from her mouth, Darcy told Flick that it was impossible to untangle the good stuff from the bad stuff, and if she couldn’t do that, she feared she’d be carrying all this hate around with her for the rest of her life.
Flick listened hard to all of it. She could feel it in the way he leaned forward as she spoke. She could sense it in the weight of his gaze. And though she could only imagine what he was thinking of her now, what a relief it was to hold it out there between them, and know that he saw it. He saw all of it. Which meant he saw her.
When she was done, she collapsed back against the sofa, waiting for him to say something.
“Darcy, those are all good memories.”
She shook her head. She hadn’t told him all of them.
“You know what I think?”
“What?” She was almost too scared to know.
“Your family belongs to that place more than the members. You’re kind of like lifers.”
“Lifers,” she repeated. He’d gotten that part right.
“So where’s the bad?”
“Golf,” she said, softly. “Golf was where it went bad.” Suddenly she was so tired, and the hour so late.
“Was the pressure too much?” She could tell he was struggling to make sense of it. It wasn’t his fault. She was giving him dots to connect, but not all of them.
“It was too much,” she admitted. What she didn’t admit was that they were talking about two very different kinds of pressure.
Flick edged closer on the sofa. It was chilly inside the RV. She could feel the warmth of Flick’s skin bridging the space between their bodies. This close, he smelled faintly of soap and citrus. She had the inexplicable urge to rest her head on his shoulder. She had the feeling he wouldn’t mind.
Did Flick want more? she wondered. Or had she used up his patience with all of her talking? Teenage boys were like a hot flame with a short burn time; by the time you figured out if they even liked you, they’d already lost interest. She wanted to think Flick was different.
Flick wrapped his fingers gently around hers, and a current passed through her fingertips. For a second she wished he’d pull her to him. She felt like this was just one conversation of many she wanted to have with Flick Creevy.
“Darcy, I like you.”
She smiled in the darkness but didn’t say anything. She was out of words.
“Last week you asked me to steal a golf cart with you, but then it seemed like I made you mad. Just the other day you accused me of upsetting Adam, but then you kissed my cheek.” His voice was somewhere between whisper and song, like the state between drifting and sleep. She felt her eyelids flutter.
“I like you, too,” she said.
“It doesn’t always seem like it.” It was a fair thing to say. She was all over the place this summer, and she knew why even if she couldn’t tell him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not really myself, lately.”
“So why did you ask me out here tonight?”
Darcy could not explain why she kept coming back to Flick Creevy. Despite her crush on Spencer. Despite the fact she and Flick were so different. It was a feeling she could not put words to, but in it was a simple truth. “Because you listen to me.”
Flick nodded as though this was enough. He squeezed her hand. “Alright. Then let’s keep talking.”
When she woke up, early light dappled them as gently as the memory of the night before. And then she realized where she was.
Stretched beside her on the RV sofa was Flick, his eyes still closed with slumber. One arm rested across her. How she wanted to close her eyes and sink into him. But she couldn’t.
“Flick,” she said, shaking him. “What time is it?”
Flick stretched and looked around. “Oh, man.”
“I have to go!” Darcy rolled away from him and hopped up. All the things she’d said the night before came tumbling back and she felt suddenly exposed in the light of the new day.
Outside the air was cold and the grass wet when she stepped down into the yard. She glanced around warily, then back at Flick. “I’ll see you later.”
“Wait,” he said, closing the door quietly behind them.
“What? We have to hurry.” She did not want to get caught. Just as much, she did not want him looking at her like this, rumpled and exhausted.
Flick did not seem bothered. He smiled. “That was nice, last night.”
Darcy stared back at him, a knot of nerves. “All we did was talk,” she blurted out.
“I know. I was there.” Flick placed his hands very gently on either side of her face. Darcy inhaled. His eyes were large and brown, and despite the fear of being found out and her haggard appearance and her racing head, Darcy felt her heart slow. When Flick Creevy pressed his lips to hers, she stilled. The yard quieted. Flick’s lips were full and warm and behind her closed eyes the sun burned. Darcy kissed him back. And just like that they parted.
“Was that okay?” he asked.
Unable to speak, Darcy nodded.
A bird erupted in song. Across the street a door slammed and a car started. Darcy turned. When she turned back, Flick Creevy was already sprinting across his yard.
All morning at work, Lily stared. “You sure you’re okay? You seem out of it today.”
“Just tired,” Darcy lied. She didn’t want to tell Lily yet. It felt like a secret made sweeter by keeping it to herself.
She’d managed to sneak back in her house, undetected, and she wondered if Flick had, too. At breakfast her parents were so distracted trying to figure out plans for Adam that no one noticed how exhausted she looked. For once her mother didn’t nag her to eat more scrambled eggs or comment that she looked thin.
All day she kept her eyes peeled for Flick. When camp got out, she was wiped out but the thought of seeing him boosted her, so she ran up to the clubhouse. She was so distracted by the replay in her head from the night before, that when she entered the back door of the clubhouse, she walked straight into the pro shop without thinking.
Vince popped up from behind a clothing rack. “There she is.” If he was surprised to see her, he recovered quickly. “Have you seen our new inventory? We just got a new delivery of golf attire.”
Darcy froze. How was it that someone she used to spend so much time with she could now barely look at?
“I’m looking for my dad,” she sputtered.
“Once upon a time, you used to rush in and pore over every new shipment.” Vince held up a peach-colored golf skirt on a hanger. Its ruffled edge rippled in the air between them. “You know, the team could really use you this season… if you change your mind.”
Darcy stared wordlessly at the ruffled edge of the skirt.
“Any chance you’ll get back in the game?”
“My dad’s waiting for me,” she lied, turning on her heel. Darcy rushed out the door, past her dad’s office and around the corner. There, she propped herself up against the wall, heart thundering.
She did not hear the sound of footfalls coming up behind her. “Hey.” A hand landed on her shoulder and reflexively Darcy swatted it away.
She turned to see Flick. He held up both hands. “Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Sorry,” she gasped.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced over his shoulder at the pro shop doorway. Thankfully Vince had not come after her. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Flick followed her gaze. “You don’t look fine. Darcy, what just happened?”
The concern in Flick’s eyes was too much. Just as what she’d told him last night was too much.
“Darcy?” he pressed.
“Just mind your business!” she snapped.
The hurt in his eyes rooted her to the ground. What was it he’d said just after she’d told him she liked him? It doesn’t always seem like it.
Before he could say anything, Darcy pushed past him, and through the front doors. She didn’t look back. She already knew the look on Flick Creevy’s face, and it just made her cry harder.