s
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the Land Rover.
Where are we going? Sydney asks.
I know some places, Jeff says, his answer hinting at years of
clandestine sex and drinking as a teenager. It must have been,
Sydney decides, a glorious adolescence.
Jeff parks at the end of a lane similar to the one on which the
tennis court was located. He leads Sydney to a small beach
she did not know existed. She has a sense of trespassing. Away
from the sea breezes, the mosquitoes are ferocious. Jeff calls
his sister s name softly, as if not wishing to disturb any lovers
who might also be on the beach. He does not receive a reply.
The beach is only fifty feet across, and once Sydney s eyes adjust,
she can see that there is nothing on it but clumps of dried
seaweed.
79
Anita Shreve
* * *
The car travels slowly down another quiet street. Sydney can
hear a fan from an open window. Jeff, both hands on the wheel,
is bent slightly forward. Sydney has her arms crossed over her
chest.
There doesn t seem to be much happening here, she says.
What are we looking for?
A party, Jeff says tightly.
Sydney s mild fear seems to have morphed into something like
full-blown panic in Jeff, the way a virus will jump to a new host
and mutate into a stronger and more lethal strain.
Sydney peers into the lighted windows of the cottages, hoping
for a glimpse of Julie, and is intrigued to see how people live
their lives on vacation on the coast of New Hampshire. The lack
of blue flickering TV screens is heartening, as are the surprising
number of round tables with playing cards on them.
Are you sure she didn t mention any plans? Jeff says.
Earlier, we met two boys. Joe and Nick. They were headed to
play golf and stopped to say hello to Julie. One of the boys, Joe,
seemed interested in her and even mentioned getting together
sometime.
Why didn t you tell me this earlier? Jeff asks.
Sydney feels the slight sting of having been scolded. Do the
names mean anything to you? she asks.
Jeff narrows his eyes. No. Did you catch a last name?
Sydney shakes her head. She could be at a friend s house. A
girlfriend.
Are you aware of any friends Julie has?
80
Body Surfing
No.
Another car approaches them, and both Sydney and Jeff stare
at the passengers.
She s such a sweet girl, Sydney says.
That s what s worrying me.
I m not sure she s been out at night by herself the whole time
I ve been here, Sydney points out.
We haven t had to deal with this much. I don t know if
she s even had the curfew discussion yet. Or the cell-phone
discussion.
Sydney wonders, but does not ask, about the never-have-
unprotected-sex discussion.
I m sure she s fine, she says instead.
They drive to a spot near a lighthouse that Jeff knows about.
They do not speak much, in the way of people who are preoc-
cupied. They drive along an uneven road that leads to acres of
scrub brush. They stop at a parking lot in the middle of the long
crescent beach on which the Edwardses house is located. They
walk a few hundred yards along the sand in opposite directions.
They meet back at the car.
This is stupid, Jeff says. He checks his cell phone again to
make sure he didn t receive a call.
Julie and I went somewhere this afternoon that she might
have returned to, Sydney says, thinking.
Where?
The rocks at the end of the beach.
You re kidding, he says, putting the cell phone in his
pocket.
Sydney is silent.
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Anita Shreve
Jesus, Sydney. The gravel lot is dark, and she can t make out
his face.
But no one would go there at night, Sydney adds quickly.
Yet each of them knows that Julie might be pleased to suggest
to a boy a destination of her own making. And each of them
understands as well that, having been invited, few would decline
to follow her.
Watch your footing, Jeff advises. He holds the flashlight
straight down so that Sydney can see where his feet are and put
hers in his footsteps. Though she cannot see the surf, she can
hear it.
Jeff yells, Julie! again and again, but each time, the name is
blown back at him. The rocks are slippery underfoot. Sydney
resists the impulse to lower herself to a crouch.
Sydney thinks about the way Julie tugged at her hand earlier in
the day. I don t believe she s here, she says to Jeff.
She loses her footing on a slippery bit of seaweed. Jeff reaches
out a quick hand, and Sydney grabs it.
Watch it, he says.
Thanks.
This is nuts. We should head back.
But for a number of seconds, perhaps even seven or eight, Jeff
continues to hold Sydney s hand. Neither of them turns to the
other. Neither of them moves.
His fingers barely clasp hers.
The touch is not a promise, and it is certainly not a pass. It
is indeed, if it is anything at all the merest suggestion of a
possibility.
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Body Surfing
Jeff s fingers are distinctly palpable. Insistently there.
A computerized tune erupts from Jeff s pocket. He lets go of
Sydney s hand and opens his cell phone. The voice on the other
end is so loud that even she can hear it.
You d better get back here, Ben is saying.
83
Julie sits on one of the two white sofas, her hand poised on its
arm, her body pointed in the direction of the bathroom, which, it
would appear, she has already visited, to judge from the spill of
what can only be vomit on her tank top. But it is not that detail
that briefly causes Sydney to shut her eyes with a mixture of
heartache and dread. She wonders if anyone else has noticed the
small tear at the place where the pale blue strap meets the neck-
line. Three, four, five tiny stitches have been ripped apart.
Ben, hands in pockets, is pacing. Someone dropped her off, and
she came in like this.
Who dropped her off? Jeff wants to know.
She won t say. She can t say.
Sydney sits down beside Julie, but something in the motion
upsets Julie s fragile physical equilibrium. The girl puts a hand to
her mouth and concentrates.
Julie, Sydney says softly, bending toward the girl.
Julie shakes her head once quickly, and Sydney withdraws.
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Body Surfing
* * *
She can t drink, Ben says. She just can t.
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