Chapter 3
Heath
Life goes on at Wainscott Hollow, with Henry and I avoiding each other whenever possible.
Poor Mr. Shaw never gives up the dream that he can save his maid’s son and integrate him into his family.
I live on the periphery of the Shaw’s and keep a low profile, only purposefully coming into contact with Kat and avoiding Henry like the plague that he is.
Of course there are certain events, traditions, and such that I can’t skirt or get out of.
Shaw might be a non-traditional Montauk resident, but society dictates norms even he can’t opt out of.
Graduation at Fairmont, for example. And why would you want to when you’re paying nearly a quarter of a million dollars a year to send your three kids to school there?
I stand corrected, two kids and one foundling, but standard rates apply even when you come without the pedigree.
I’d never step foot in an institution like Fairmont if it weren’t for Shaw and his generosity, so I take full advantage of my education and let the teachers and student body alike know I’m in it to win.
Shaw won’t live forever, and if the only thing I get out of my time at Wainscott Hollow is grief and an education, then I’ll get a fucking education that might save me someday.
I’ll make something of my life and show Henry and the rest of the doubters that Shaw made an investment when he put his good faith in me.
The suit I’m wearing is a hand-me-down from Mr. Shaw. I’d maybe wear Henry’s, but as genetics go, I’ve got my birth-father’s height, and Henry’s clothes are too small for me. But Shaw’s got impeccable taste, and I’m decked out head to toe in Burberry.
Kat comes down the staircase in cornflower blue to match her eyes, and she’s the most electrifying scenery on this whole estate.
“Ready for official Fairmont high, Mr. Clifton?” she asks, smiling.
I march to the base of the grand staircase and offer her my elbow like we’re cultured royalty. But Kat and I are the anomaly in this whole fucking town. We share a hybrid hatchback when Shaw, with a little encouragement, would have sprung for a luxury car for each of us if that’s what we’d wanted.
“Who’s driving?” she asks as she takes my arm.
Henry has already left as it’s his last year, and he’s walking the stage today to accept his diploma (and hopefully enlisting and moving far, far away.) Henry drives an Audi because, of course, he does. Henry is not an anomaly.
“Can you drive in heels?” I ask Kat. I also want to ask her if she can walk in them as I’ve never seen her wear anything besides Wellies, beat-up converse, waders, or flip-flops and barefoot during the summer months.
She kicks them off, picks up the white heels, and shrugs. “Barely, so I’ll put them on for pictures to please Dad.
I wouldn’t have Katelyn any other way. She’s as wild as the switchgrass and pinweed down by the beach.
She’s had her long brown waves blown out and doesn’t have a single hair out of place.
Different from her floppy ponytails and wisps escaping every which way.
But Kat is striking in an evening gown or waders. The girl is a natural, wild beauty.
We hold hands on our way to the car. Freshman year is in the books, and officially Fairmont Sophomores. Katelyn will finally be the only Shaw at school.
We’re both moving up with honors, whereas Henry’s diploma was probably a favor phoned in to the dean from a desperate Mr. Shaw.
“At least he’s graduating,” Kat hums as she fastens her seat belt.
“What are the chances he’ll leave Wainscott Hollow? Or Montauk, for that matter?” My wishful thinking isn’t so hidden in my voice.
Kat looks at me across the car roof before she chucks her heels on the console and climbs into the driver’s seat.
“He’ll never leave, Heath. Henry will stay and leech off my father until the day he dies.
Who’d hire Henry? His work ethic is abysmal, his skillset is below basic, and his entitlement complex is out of this world because he’s so disconnected from reality.
He’ll stick around and party like a college kid who never got into any colleges, sleep like a teenager, and suck his inheritance from my father bit by bit until Dad’s wealth runs dry.
Henry will never grow up, and he’ll never move out on his own. ”
I’ve got a mind to punch my fist through the window, but I nod my head instead because it’s obvious she’s right.
“He might graduate out of Fairmont today, so we won’t see him at school, but he’ll never graduate Wainscott Hollow. We’ve got three more years before we make our escape and get the fuck away from him.”
Kat drives aggressively through the village, which is already showing signs of summer tourists descending.
Life would be idyllic if it weren’t for Henry and his constant threat of sabotage.
Even when we don’t see him for days, I stop and remind myself that Henry is violent and dangerous so I don’t let my guard down.
We make it to the Fairmont auditorium just a few minutes before the awards, and graduation ceremony starts.
Kat accidentally leaves her heels in the car, so we detour to her locker on arrival to salvage a pair of flip flops.
Attempting to cross the stage in heels may have been a bit too ambitious for Katelyn Shaw, anyhow.
I get called to the podium to receive an award for highest honors, and Shaw claps and bellows from his seat with tears in his eyes.
Kat gets called later, another prize for her science project on tadpoles in brackish water bogs on the sound taking first place.
Old man Shaw seems beside himself with emotion and claps us both on the back when we return to our seats.
“I couldn’t be prouder. I got two of the greatest kids this school has ever seen,” he gushes. It’s obvious Shaw is talking about Katelyn and me and leaving Henry out of the equation.
Henry walks the stage to receive his diploma toward the end of the alphabet when our hands are already sore from clapping for douchebags. Henry jumps and yanks down the overhead banner that reads “Congratulations, Graduates.”
Kat and I steal a look of disapproval, but Henry’s shenanigans don’t dampen Shaw’s pride in getting his son through high school. He barely made it, so the diploma is a sacred accomplishment.
Hours later, we attend a white tablecloth dinner for the graduating class, where Henry shows up so impaired that it’s obvious he drank, snorted, or smoked something potent in the parking lot—likely all of the above.
Kat and I eat our salads dutifully while Shaw verbally berates Henry for always causing a scene.
“I’m fucking done with the bullshit,” Henry exclaims, slamming his drink down on the table. “They’re lucky I didn’t let them know how I really felt.”
Most people know Henry Shaw is a lot of bark compared to his relatively small bite. But people stare anyway and Kat looks uncomfortable.
Shaw continues to lecture his only real son as the band begins to play and a few people make their way to the area in front of the small stage to dance.
“Would you do me the honor?” I say half-jokingly to Kat. I’d do anything to exit this scene.
I offer her my hand, and she jumps at the chance. “Hell yeah, get me out of here,” she says through clenched teeth.
I stand and pull her to the dance floor, away from the dark energy that’s ruined our dinner before it’s even arrived.
“Henry’s a fucking pariah. He destroys everything he touches,” Kat spits.
She says it with such emotion that it doesn’t sit well with me. What was Henry’s relationship like with their mother before she passed away? What was his relationship like with my mother before she passed away?
The band strikes up “Summertime,” and the crooner, likely brought in from the city, does her best Billie Holiday impression.
I grab Kat around the waist and pull her to me.
We’ve danced before. On the beach, in the kitchen, hell, even in the garage a couple of times, when the music is right, and the mood hits us. I’ve never danced with anyone else.
“Congrats to the queen of tadpoles and the empress of my heart,” I say to her.
She does a curtsey which looks slightly ridiculous on her. Katelyn is many things, but perhaps physically graceful is not one of them. I grab her and lead her right into a dip where she closes her eyes and hangs on for dear life like I might drop her on the floor.
“Is she your girlfriend?” a young boy asks. He’s got his hair slicked back with a careful side part and is wearing a tie.
“She’s my boss,” I tell the young boy.
“Oh,” he says. “Is she nice to you?”
Katelyn can barely contain her wild smile.
“Sometimes,” I tell him frankly. “She makes me scratch her back and wash the dirt off her feet.”
The boy glances down at Kat’s flip-flop-clad feet, which are already dirty, and his eyes widen in surprise. Kat covers her mouth, and her eyes water with tears as she holds in her giggles.
The boy shrugs. “Does she pay you good, at least?”
I spin Kat and then yank her back into my chest. Can she feel the fervent beating of my heart against her back?
“She pays me in tadpoles. Sometimes shells or pond fish,” I tell him casually. “Stuff like that.”
“Why’d you want those things?” the boy asks. He squints up at Kat like she’s some sort of fairy witch.
“I’m a frog prince,” I tell him. “I don’t ask for much. Just some flies or some mealworms, and I’m happy enough.”
This time Kat’s eyes are truly tearing up. She covers her smile with her hand, and I take her other and offer it to the young boy.
“No thanks!” he says emphatically. “You guys are weird. Do you turn into a frog when she kisses you?”
Katelyn is smiling as she grabs my head with both hands and plants a kiss on my lips.
The world stops. It freezes in a kind of magical dream state.
Kat’s lips on mine are playful and light, but the way my heart careens out of control in my chest is anything but.
The earth moves with her touch, and I spiral through all our special moments together.
A cloudy gray day on the beach.
Running in the dunes hand in hand.
Slipping through tide pools.
Stepping through the creek and catching eels with our bare hands.
Watching the sunset over the sound while the lightning bugs hover and dot the sky in fairy lights.
The sun in her hair and salt on her skin.
The sound of her laugh echoing through me like therapy for my soul.
Her touch. Her lips on mine, and my fucking heart in my throat.
“Ewww, gross!” the little squirt says and disappears between the party goers’ legs. Kat gently separates from me and a pink blush rises to her cheeks as she looks into my eyes.
“You’re still a dude,” she says cheerily. “Unfortunately.”
“I am craving flies,” I tell her with a smile. “Maybe you didn’t kiss me enough.”
I want to kiss her again, pull her into my arms, and wrap her up safe and close to my heart forever. I’ll weather the gloom of Wainscott Hollow if it means we can stay together.