Chapter 10
Journal
Fantasy.
A fantasy.
That’s what everyone says: this a story I’m writing in my head, and in my diary…
A boy who doesn’t exist, and a girl who is just pretending.
Well, the boy is waiting for the girl when she returns with a big grin and outstretched arms. He tells her he has a surprise. She’s never liked surprises, so she—
I
she suggests a game instead.
“8, 9, 10! Ready or not, here I come!” he shouts, and lost in thought, she scrambles into hiding. She dips low into the water, under cover of a mangrove tree.
“I’m gonna find you!” he says, but his voice is distant. It takes everything in her not to giggle when he draws close, swims away, draws close and swims away, again and again.
Something paddles in the water toward her, but it’s not Gale. The girl lifts her leaf cover to see a pair of pink reptile eyes blinking at her.
A gator.
A very tiny, cloud-white gator.
It opens its small jaw as if to smile, and she I freeze, paralyzed by the very real danger.
If there’s a baby gator, that means there’s a mom somewhere, right?
“Gale,” I whisper, “Gale!” I call for him, still hushed but louder this time, hoping my quiet tone will make him approach with the same level of caution.
Instead, he splashes through the water with a loud, “Found ya!” He doesn’t even blink at the swamp critter swimming in circles around him.
“Gale!” I hiss. “What do we do?”
“Well,” he hums, always so thoughtful and patient. “You can have a turn next, or you can let me give you your surprise.”
“No—about that!” I say, pointing at the gator, who is now ramming its snoot into Gil’s side until he pets it like a stray cat.
“Oh, Clawrece?” he says, barely looking up.
“Clawrece?” I echo.
“Well, she’s been following me since yesterday. I had to call her something,” he says with a shrug. “She’s small, huh? I think maybe the runt of the litter—hey, come on!”
He tugs at my hand, like there isn’t a small gator trailing behind us, and leads me to our place on the shoreline. He tells me to close my eyes, and with a loud ‘ta-da!’, I open them.
Gale is holding a clam.
“I already took a peek inside,” he says with a sly grin. He tosses the slimy part to Clawrece, who jumps up and wags her tail like a puppy waiting for a treat. Gale opens my hand and drops the pearl on my palm.
“What’s this for?”
“I’m supposed to give you a shiny thing—if we’re getting married.”
“Married?” How am I supposed to tell him that’s scary? All married people do is argue.
“That’s what you’re supposed to do if you want to spend forever with your best friend, right?” he asks.
I don’t know about that.
Grams says she was my mom’s best friend.
Uncle Orson and Aunt Andrea don’t act at all like best friends. And the last thing I want is to be like them. I don’t want to argue with Gale—not now, not ever.
“Aw, she could be our baby!” Gale says, happily scooping up the gator in his arms. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve played house, but today, it feels different. A bad kind of different. I don’t mean to yell at him, I really don’t, but all I can get out is a harsh, “No!”
He stops dead in his tracks and stares at me.
I’ve done it again—said the most perfectly wrong thing that will make him stop wanting to see me. Instead, he tilts his head, his eyes blinking one by one.
“Why not?” he asks. “We would be good at being moms and dads, I think. I can make a house, and you can—”
“I don’t want to!” I shout, but I’m not mad at Gale. I don’t know why I’m mad at all.
The pearl feels heavy all of a sudden.
He waits patiently until I’m ready to explain.
I didn’t know people did that.
“What about the gator?” I say, handing him back the pearl.
“She might already have a family,” he says with a frown. “If we’re playing pretend, then of course she can be, but—”
“I’m not playing pretend anymore. What if she doesn’t have a family?” I ask, studying Clawrece. She’s pushing her snoot against Gil’s leg affectionately. “What if they’re gone…”
“Then my family will take good care of her,” he says. “I will too.”
It’s not that easy.
“Mine wouldn’t, I don’t think,” I say, shaking my head. They didn’t want me—they’d never let me take care of a gator.
“My cousin doesn’t even like it here. She was complaining she wants to find a new camp, even though her wrist is covered in friendship bracelets and everyone likes her,” I tell him, not meaning to ramble, but with Gale, I can’t help it.
“Where are yours?” he asks, taking my hand and turning it over.
To keep from lying, I pinch my mouth shut. If I tell him no one out there wants to be my friend, maybe he won’t either.
“I’ll make a special one for you,” he says. “I’ll use the pearl and everything. Dozens of ’em! And this gator? I’ll find her family, or she’s part of ours. I promise.”
Our family.
“You really mean it?” I say, reaching down and giving the small creature a tentative pat. She closes her eyes and nuzzles into my hand.
“My mom said you give something shiny to the person you want forever with,” he says, holding my hand. “Can’t it be you, Marina?”
I nod, hoping one day summers like this will last forever.