23. Darcy
DARCY
He was the first thing she noticed. When she considered the crowd of members in their predictable summer outfits having their predictable conversations, Flick Creevy stole her gaze. He was outside on the deck, a straight drive from where she stood in the dining room. Darcy found herself moving toward him before she even realized it. But he wasn’t alone—he was talking with one of the servers, Wendy. Wendy was in her early twenties with curves as pronounced as her attitude. Darcy knew they worked together, but seeing them now made her wonder how closely. She paused in the doorway, waiting for him to notice her. When their eyes met, there was no mistake—he was glad to see her. They shared champagne and a few laughs, and Darcy couldn’t help but notice there was something different about the way he was looking at her that night. Different in a way that made her feel like she belonged in that slinky dress she’d almost been too afraid to wear, just as she belonged next to him under a sky glowing as pink as her cheeks felt. It wasn’t the champagne.
But then, Teagan, her old teammate from the golf team, showed up. Along with her sister, and with them, Spencer. Spencer, who had promised to talk to his father. When she crossed the deck to say hello to them, she realized too late that Flick hadn’t followed. Then her mother called her in for dinner, and Flick’s table was nowhere near hers. But Spencer—well, he was seated right next to her.
Darcy stole peeks at Flick’s table. He looked so handsome all dressed up. His mother and stepfather looked a little like fishes out of water, and she felt a pang of sympathy for them. Maybe she would go introduce herself. But then Spencer leaned in and started talking. To her disbelief, they talked all evening. Spencer told her he’d gone to bat for Adam, mentioning to his dad that he was a good kid. Maybe that claim seemed a little overstated, since to her knowledge Spencer barely knew Adam. But he seemed so genuine, and even more surprising, so interested in keeping the conversation going. All before telling her that her dress was unreal. Unreal . When she heard that, the rush was better than any champagne buzz.
Later, when a few of them ditched dessert and headed out to the course with a bottle of Tito’s that Spencer magically produced, Darcy couldn’t miss out. She tried to get Flick’s attention, but he was busy talking to his mother.
And then she found him: alone outside with Wendy. Wendy was crying, and there was a bottle of wine between the two of them, and Darcy didn’t know what to make of it. But she knew what it looked like. “I was looking for you,” she told him.
“Oh yeah?” he’d looked past her, at Spencer and Teagan and Blaine, who were already leaving her behind, and the look on his face made her feel like a door had been closed. Flick wasn’t coming with them. He was busy doing whatever he was doing with Wendy, and Darcy felt like an idiot for standing there. So she’d taken off with the others and they’d hung out down on the dock, dangling their feet in the water and passing the Tito’s up and down the line. Spencer sat right next to her. Eventually, Blaine had to leave. Then Teagan and her sister did, too, leaving her alone under the dark sky with Spencer. It was everything she’d wanted since the start of summer, and now she had no idea what to do with it.
Buzzed and overwhelmed, when Spencer leaned over and pressed his lips to hers Darcy didn’t just let him. She kissed him back. It was everything she’d dreamed of—happening right there on a starry summer night with the best-looking senior at school who had never even noticed her until that summer at Mayhaven. Lily would die. Two weeks ago, Darcy would have, too. But as Spencer Delancey slipped his tongue in her mouth, it was Flick she thought of. When Spencer ran his hand across the front of her chest, brushing one breast and then the other, Darcy’s breath caught. When he tried to lower her onto the dock, she went with it. As Spencer moved over her, Darcy looked up. The sky swirled and blurred, each point of light fading in and out of focus. You wanted this, she told herself. But when Spencer slipped his hand up the skirt of her dress and the length of her leg, she sat up. “I’m sorry,” she said, heart pounding. “I can’t.”
Spencer sat back on his haunches. “Can’t or won’t?”
Darcy slipped her spaghetti strap back over her shoulder, feeling the heat between them instantly chill. “What’s the difference?”
He didn’t say anything, just shook his head. “Whatever.”
Darcy felt like a fool. Like the little girl Ashley Riley had called her at the party.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, standing.
She rearranged her dress, wishing she could rearrange the last few minutes as easily. “Hey,” she said, trying to salvage some small thing from the night, “thanks again for talking to your father about Adam.”
“Who?”
As they trudged back up the hill to the clubhouse, the scent of pine sharp in her nostrils, Darcy trailed a few paces behind. Spencer didn’t wait for her.
There was no text from Spencer the next morning. Or from Flick. It was everything she’d expected, but still it stung. It was Sunday, which meant no camp and no organic opportunity to run into either of them and nothing to distract herself with. She weighed herself and saw she was up a pound. Her head throbbed from the Tito’s and her stomach roiled, but she couldn’t let herself eat breakfast. Two diet pills later she went for a run. It was scorching outside, and her body ached with effort as she ran down Maple and onto Woodside Drive. By the second mile she barely had the energy to turn back and walk home. Throughout the afternoon, she checked her phone, and after a lunch of iceberg lettuce and a handful of tomatoes (she was starving by then), the scale again. When there was no change on either, Darcy threw her phone across her room. It hit the far wall with a deadening thud . She was almost disappointed when she picked it up and realized there wasn’t a single scratch or dent. It was just kissing and touching, she told herself, recounting the details of the night before for the hundredth time. But then why did she feel so tired and used up?
Sometime that afternoon, her mother banged on the door and poked her head in. God, Darcy wanted a lock. “Are you feeling okay?” Ingrid asked, her face clouded with the usual surplus of concern and suspicion. “You didn’t come down for breakfast or lunch.”
“I ate lunch,” Darcy insisted.
“That tiny salad? Is that all you’ve eaten today?” The woman was a criminal investigator; she hadn’t even been in the kitchen when Darcy had made it.
“Fine,” Darcy said, hopping out of bed and whisking past her. “I’ll eat.” In the kitchen, she feigned making a turkey sandwich while Ingrid watched and tried to make small talk. She knew what her mother was doing. Well, Darcy could play that game, too. She took a big bite of the sandwich, and then another. The texture was like sand and the weight of it lead, sitting in the pouch of her cheek. When her mother was finally satisfied and left her alone, Darcy spit the mouthful into the trash bin and handed the rest to Fritzy. She waited until the dog consumed every crumb. “Good boy,” Darcy whispered, pointing out a piece he’d dropped on the tile floor. Evidence was everything.
Back in her room, she fell into a fitful sleep. She awoke to her phone buzzing. It was just Lily. Tired of evading her, Darcy answered, but she didn’t mention the vodka or Spencer or the dock. She’d been made a fool and her life was a joke. What else was there to tell?
Monday morning it took everything to drag herself to work. God knew what people would be saying about her. Blaine had a big mouth and even though it was clear she was dead to Spencer, people would talk. Darcy wasn’t stupid; as the girl, it would all reflect badly on her. Spencer was just being a guy; blameless and untouchable. As for Flick, he’d made his choice. So when she trudged into the clubhouse steeling herself for the onslaught of whispers and looks, she was jolted by a different frenzied buzz among the counselors. Someone had been caught stealing from the bar. A new member. A kitchen worker. That new kid, what’s his name?
Flick Creevy.
“There’s no way,” she told Lily, in hushed tones as they waited outside for their campers to arrive. “He likes his job, and his parents just joined. He wouldn’t upset his mom like that.”
Lily eyed her suspiciously. “Do you have a thing for him you haven’t told me about?”
Darcy scoffed. “What? No!” She’d barely mentioned Flick to Lily, not the texts or the long talk in the golf cart or their night in the RV—none of it. There were a few times she’d started to, and even more times she wanted to, but something always stopped her. Like the diet pills. Like the weight loss. That summer, Darcy needed to keep certain details to herself. It had become a mason jar full of summer insects, like the fireflies she used to collect on the clubhouse beach at night, with her brother when they were little. Only these weren’t fat, perky fireflies who jazzed up a dark night. These insects were different, fast and dangerous, with razor-sharp stingers. Even though it took all her concentration, she had to keep the lid on tight; if she let even just one go, they’d hurt everyone she cared about.
But it was getting harder to keep things from her best friend. Lily was starting to look at her the same way her parents did, like she was holding something back from them that they needed. And now Lily was asking about Flick, which bothered her more than what happened with Spencer, somehow. Darcy couldn’t withstand much more, so maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she threw Lily a morsel. A tidbit. Just to get her off her back.
“Spencer and I fooled around the other night,” she blurted out.
Lily’s face fell. “And you’re just telling me now?” She grabbed Darcy’s hand and tugged her under the deck, out of earshot, the exact spot where Flick and Wendy had stood the other night.
“I’m sorry,” Darcy said. “I wanted to tell you, but I’m still trying to make sense of it.”
“I don’t even know where to start. What happened exactly? Are you guys a thing?”
Darcy laughed bitterly. “No chance. He hasn’t even looked at me today.”
Spencer was over by the picnic tables, talking with the other lifeguards without a care in the world. Ashley Riley was with them. When she looked over at them, Darcy shuddered.
“Tell me everything,” Lily insisted.
“Our families sat together at the party. At first I thought he was just being polite in front of the adults, but he kept talking to me: about Adam, about camp.” Darcy paused. “I know it sounds crazy, but he seemed really interested. In me.
“Later, a bunch of us went down to the beach. Spencer and Blaine had a bottle of Tito’s, and we shared it. I got pretty buzzed. Eventually it was just the two of us left.”
“And…?”
“And we kissed. It felt nice, at first. Really nice.”
“Then what?”
This was the part that embarrassed her the most, even in front of her best friend. “It went from kissing to groping fast. It became clear he wasn’t interested in me as much as he was that. ” Darcy glanced around warily. Campers were starting to trickle in. This was not the time.
Lily was still staring at her in disbelief. “C’mere.” She gave Darcy a long, hard hug. “Boys suck,” she said, into her hair. “Tell me the rest later, but don’t let him get in your head today. It’s prime real estate. He can’t afford the rent.”
Darcy hugged Lily back. It was a relief to share some of it, even if it was ugly. Even if it was just the tip of the iceberg.
As they collected their campers and headed to the courts, Darcy’s worries turned to Flick. People would be quick to blame all the liquor thefts on him, which was so unfair, especially when she’d been with Teagan, Blaine, and Spencer who had stolen a bottle of vodka. If Flick was even drinking that bottle of wine she’d seen that night, she was pretty sure it had more to do with Wendy.
Mondays were Flick’s day off, but she found herself looking for him anyway. Unable to stand not knowing, she texted him: You okay? I heard about what happened Saturday night.
There was no reply. She tried to focus on the kids through tennis lessons and a messy clay project at the craft barn. Finally, she and Spencer were thrown into one another’s path. Darcy was helping her campers wash the clay off their hands at the outdoor spigot, when he walked by with another guard. He looked right at her. “Hey.” No meaningful look. Not even a smile. It was about as personal as the weekly grocery-store fliers that the postal lady shoved in their mailbox—addressed to current resident.
“Hey,” she said back. She wouldn’t give him the silent treat ment, but she also wouldn’t say his name. Spencer Delancey had stung her.
By the time she checked her phone again, she had three texts, all from Flick.
I’m fine.
How about you?
Looks like you had fun Saturday.
Had fun ? They were talking about him, not her. And no, she had not had fun. But reading his texts buoyed her. Flick cared.
She left Lily with the campers and went to find her dad, not even stopping to knock on his office door. “Dad, I heard about Flick.”
Her father looked as unhappy as she did. “Honey, you know I can’t discuss employee issues with family.”
“Dad.” She sat on the couch. “It’s me. And Flick is… a friend. Besides, I know you like him, too. Just tell me—is he going to lose his job?” Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of Mayhaven without Flick.
Her father sighed and pushed his chair away from his desk. “Honey, Flick admitted to it.”
“To all of it—the kayaks, the silver, the missing alcohol? I don’t believe that.”
“To the wine, at least. But I really can’t discuss this, you know that.”
She had to tell him the truth. “Dad, I was with a bunch of members Saturday night, and they stole alcohol, too.”
“What?” Her father looked so disappointed. But he needed to know, even if it got her in trouble, too. “You were involved?”
“Dad, I’m almost seventeen. Kids drink. But no, I didn’t steal anything. And I didn’t realize they had until we were down at the beach.”
“Did you drink, too?”
Darcy stared at her sneakers. “Yeah.” Then, “I’m sorry. I would never do anything to jeopardize your job. We were all the way down at the lake and it was a big group and…”
When she looked up she was shocked to see his expression had softened. “Is that the first thing you think I worry about when you mention drinking—my job? It’s you I worry about.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, again. “I just wanted you to have all the facts.”
He didn’t answer, but instead stared out the window at the golf course. Before, whenever they had to talk about something difficult, they would save it for out there. Out there they could walk side by side, eyes on the fairway, and talk about anything. Somehow it was easier. Their hands were occupied with their clubs, their minds with the intricacies of the swing. Words would find their way around the edges of all that. And whatever was said they would play through it—so that by the ninth hole, when they made the turn, feelings had been aired.
“It used to be easier when you and Adam were little,” her dad said, a wistful look in his eyes. “I thought the late nights and the feedings and the physicality of it all was hard, but the truth is those were the easy days.”
Darcy didn’t know about all that, but being a teenager was hard, too. “What about Flick? We both know he didn’t steal all that stuff.”
“I don’t know what I know anymore.” Her father’s expression shifted from reminiscent to pained. It was how he looked a lot, lately. “All I know for sure is that Flick said he took the wine. And that’s going to make people ask questions.”
What people didn’t know was what kind of kid Flick was. Her whole summer Darcy had been watching Spencer and Ashley and their crowd, wanting to be like them, wanting to be around them. Flick was different from them, and different from her, too. Darcy would never have admitted to taking the bottle of wine. Not because of her father’s job—but because she was too cowardly. Flick was not a coward.
“I hope he gets to keep his job.”
Her father nodded. “I know you do.” Then, “I’ll do what I can.”
There were no guarantees, but what was left was hope. Before she left, she went and kissed her father on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”
His face lit up. “You haven’t called me that in ages.”
It was true. Maybe she’d try to do that more often.
She was halfway to the door when he called her back. “Hang on. With all the chaos, I almost forgot. Tomorrow is the golf clinic for your group of campers, but Danny is out sick. Think you can help Vince teach it?”
She froze. Danny usually handled the younger golfers. “Vince is teaching the little kids?”
“You know how great he is. I’m sure he can adjust his teaching for little ones, too. It’s just for one day, okay?”
It was not okay. But her overwhelmed father was asking. And he’d promised to look out for Flick. “I’ll try,” she said, and she hurried out the door before he could get a good look at her.