The Other Boy Read online

  She felt as if the gathering dusk had smoothed her afternoon’s rough edges. Her face was still glowing from her shower, and a touch of sunburn tinged the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. Her shoulders shone smooth and brown as she zipped up the red pleated dress. It fit perfectly. The patterned silk slid against her skin and fluttered just above her knees. She decided to skip the jewelry and tucked her long hair behind her ears, letting it hang over her shoulders. Barefoot, she headed down the stairs to the kitchen, where Mom was pulling a giant rack of lamb studded with rosemary out of the oven. “Mmm! That smells great!”

  “Remember Mr. Jenkins who owns Jasper the pig? He brought over the lamb this morning. He feels bad that Jasper got out again.”

  “Oh. That was nice of him, I guess.” Apparently, in Napa, people apologized with animal parts. “What else are we having?”

  “Will you get the corn salad and bring it out back? We’re going to eat at the picnic table.” Mom’s face was flushed as she carved the lamb. She glanced at the clock. “Uh, we’re having cold cucumber soup and the tomato-corn salad, and Anthony brought a chocolate-almond torte for dessert.”

  “Yum.” Maddy loved cold cucumber soup. She hefted the big white bowl and balanced it on one arm as she stuck a wooden serving spoon in it. The screen door banged behind her and she stepped onto the back porch. The yard was dark, save for the flaring candles on the picnic table and some light spilling from the kitchen windows. After her eyes adjusted, she could see a little knot of people standing on the lawn with drinks in hand. She could see David’s rangy figure slouching off to one side. Everyone turned at the sound of the screen door.

  “Maddy!” Her father waved. “Come and meet Anthony and Rain!”

  Anthony and who? She hugged the heavy salad bowl as the cool grass slipped between her bare toes. She felt a little self-conscious with everyone watching as she approached.

  Bob announced, “This is my lovely daughter, Maddy.” He gave her a little one-armed squeeze.

  Fred smiled at her. David faked a look of surprise. “Wow! You’re here! I thought maybe you’d been kidnapped by grocery baggers or something,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest. “I was so worried.”

  Maddy ignored him. “Hello,” she said to the tall, skinny man standing next to her father. He had longish black hair that hung in his eyes.

  “Hello,” he replied quickly, his eyes darting somewhere over her shoulder.

  “And this is Rain,” Maddy’s father went on.

  “Hi,” the girl said casually. She was tall and lanky, with tan arms and sun-streaked light brown hair that hung over her shoulders in wind-tousled strands. She was wearing worn jeans and a white tank top with a couple of string bracelets looped around one wrist. She looked like a surfer or maybe a lifeguard. Maddy wished she hadn’t chosen the silk dress. It seemed fussy all of a sudden.

  “Maddy!” her mother’s voice called from the house.

  “Oh, sorry,” Maddy said. “I think I’d better—”

  “Go help your mom,” her dad said. “I was just going to show everyone the aging room before we eat.”

  The group trailed away across the grass. Anthony, Fred, and Bob talked animatedly in the front, with David and Rain side by side at the back. Their tall, lean figures matched somehow. They could pass for brother and sister, Maddy thought.

  She forced herself to stop staring and went over to the long trestle table at the very edge of the lawn, where the grass ended and the grapevines began. She placed the salad bowl at one end and stepped back to admire the surprisingly romantic setting. The table looked gorgeous. Maddy’s mother had used cream-colored linens and scattered flickering candles everywhere. The air was redolent with the scent of the big bunches of lavender arranged in ceramic vases at either end. Maddy couldn’t help tilting her head up, her mouth open like that of a little kid, and gazing at the stars flung like powder across the black velvet sky. The night sky always had sort of an orange cast from the city lights reflecting off the clouds in San Francisco. It never got this purely dark.

  Maddy’s mom came up next to her, balancing the giant platter of lamb. Fragrant steam curled up from the hot, pink meat. “Isn’t it just lovely out here?” she said, moving some of the candles around to make a place for the platter.

  “Yeah,” Maddy admitted. “I’ve never seen so many stars before.”

  “I thought the same thing the first time Dad and I came up here.” Across the yard, Maddy could see the shadowy forms of the group returning from their tour.

  “Oh my goodness, this looks wonderful, just wonderful,” Anthony said, flitting around the table like an excited child.

  “Well, we’re ready to eat. Have a seat,” Mom waved her hands over the table. Everyone shuffled around, pulling out chairs and shaking out their napkins.

  For a few minutes, the only sounds were of the clink of silverware and the rustle of the breeze in the vines just behind them as people concentrated on their food. David sat next to Maddy, and Rain sat across the table.

  “Debbie,” Anthony said, putting down his fork for a moment, “this is all wonderful—wonderful! I’ll take some more of the corn salad.”

  “Here, just pass me your plate.” Maddy’s mom smiled as she dished out a generous portion of salad.

  Fred and Bob were discussing oak versus metal fermenting tanks at one end of the table. David glanced over at Maddy. “Always business,” he said with a grin.

  Rain turned to David. “So, I know this sounds weird, but you look really familiar. Did you go to Redwood Lake Camp?”

  “Yeah, I did,” David replied, scooping up a forkful of corn salad. “I was actually thinking the same thing about you. I went there for years, and then I was a counselor the summer before last.”

  “Wait—me too!” Rain laughed. “That must be what I was thinking of.”

  Maddy concentrated on her plate. Perfect. Now she had to listen to these two bond? And how did that girl get her arms so toned? She looked around the table. Every face was relaxed and smiling in the soft candlelight as people ate and drank and chatted. She was the only one who wasn’t having a good time and, apparently, the only person on the planet who didn’t love, love, love Napa Valley. Maddy stuffed a bite of lamb into her mouth and chewed morosely.

  Next to her, David and Rain were still falling all over each other in the ecstasy of their shared memories of Camp Oak Tree or whatever it was called.

  “Remember that girl Miriam, the drama counselor?” David was saying. “I ran into her out in Colorado. She’s dating that Israeli guy—what was his name?”

  “Itai! Oh my God, I haven’t thought about him in forever!” Rain laughed.

  “Hey, do you remember that one canoe trip…” David dropped his voice. Rain erupted into giggles, putting her hands over her mouth.

  Maddy’s face was growing hot and she could feel her jaw clenching. It was actually really rude of them to be telling inside jokes right here at the table, she thought, twisting her napkin in her lap. Not that she cared, because she didn’t. But you’d think that if they wanted to have a freaking Camp Firewood orgy, they’d do it somewhere else.

  Rain must have sensed something, because she abruptly broke off her conversation with David and leaned toward Maddy. “So, when did you get here?” she asked.

  “Hmm?” Maddy pretended she hadn’t heard at first. “What? Oh, yesterday.” She offered a tight smile. There was an awkward little pause.

  Then Rain nodded. “Yeah, I just got in this morning.” More silence.

  Maddy felt like she should at least attempt conversation, even though this girl totally didn’t deserve it. “So, what are you up to this summer?” She tried to sound friendly.

  “I’m working for my aunt. She has a stable up here. I’m leading trail rides for the tourists, mostly.”

  “Oh, wow.” Maddy nodded sympathetically. “I had to work at the country club pool one summer. I hated it.”

  Rain looked confused. “That’s…too ba
d. But, um, my job is actually incredible. I love riding and, this way, I get to do it every day.”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Maddy pretended to pick up her napkin to cover her embarrassment. How was she supposed to know leading trail rides was a great job?

  “That’s cool,” David chimed in. “I’ve only been riding once or twice, but it was so fun. Do you guys get to gallop and things?”

  Maddy was quiet for the rest of the meal. All around her, the conversation flowed effortlessly, like water around a stone. Why should she bother being sociable when everyone was doing just fine without her help? She didn’t even have an appetite for the chocolate-almond torte, although she had to admit that it looked incredible. She just gazed at the vines, letting the breeze and the moonlight reflecting off the glossy grape leaves soothe her.

  Eventually, Bob pushed back his chair. “Anyone up for a moonlight stroll?” he asked. “I think we could all use a little exercise after that wonderful meal.” He looked over at his wife.

  “You all go ahead,” she said. “I’ll just clean up a little.” The group rose from the table slowly and gathered wraps and wineglasses. Debbie started stacking plates.

  “I’ll help you clean up, Mom,” Maddy volunteered. Her mother looked up, a little startled.

  “Don’t you want to—?”

  “No. I want to help you.” There was no way she wanted to spend one more minute with these people. Besides, if she could get her mom alone, it would be the perfect chance to ask about her birthday.

  “Okay, honey. Let’s get all the dishes in first.”

  Maddy gathered up the used silverware and dumped it into an empty serving dish. Then she made her way across the cool, dark grass toward the warm glow of the kitchen.

  Inside, Debbie started filling the sink with soapy water for the dishes. Maddy wrapped up some leftover cake. “Well, I think that went well,” Mom chattered, splashing around with the sponge. “I love that corn salad recipe, but what do you think about white corn, Maddy?”

  “Mom,” Maddy interrupted. Her mother stopped talking and looked over. Maddy took a deep breath. She would have to approach this carefully. “You know, my birthday’s next month….”

  “I think I just might remember that.” Maddy’s mom gave her a little smile as she scraped cucumber scraps into the compost bucket.

  Maddy took a deep breath. “I was thinking that maybe I could go down to the city just for that weekend, to celebrate.” Her mom’s back tensed, but Maddy rushed ahead. “I could stay with Kirsten—”

  “We’ll see,” Maddy’s mother cut her off. “Let’s see how it goes here before we talk about any privileges.”

  Maddy’s plan was teetering on a very dangerous ledge. “I know, but I was thinking that if I stayed…”

  “I heard that part. I also heard you tell Dad and me that you would be completely responsible if we left you alone all summer. And I seem to remember seeing patio furniture floating in my swimming pool and a roomful of underage teenagers spilling beer on my leather sofa. Let me talk to your father.”

  Bam. The plan fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. Her dad would never let her go. Maddy’s mother heaved the big roasting pan into the soapy water. “Would you go out to the porch?” she said, raising her voice over the sound of the taps. “I think there are still some empty glasses out there—everyone was sitting out front before dinner.”

  Maddy nodded and trailed slowly through the darkened living room and foyer out to the front door. She struggled to contain her disappointment. She’d known any chance of celebrating her birthday in San Fran was iffy, but there was always a chance. Maybe she should have waited longer. That was it—she’d just ask later, after they saw that she’d been on her best behavior.

  The front porch was unlit, but as her eyes adjusted, she could see well enough to gather the scattered wineglasses onto a tray. She padded down the porch steps and had just rounded the side of the house when she heard someone talking. It sounded like the voice was coming from the front, where she had just been. She stopped, listened, and realized the voice was David’s. He must have just come back from the stroll through the vines and hadn’t noticed her in the dark on the porch. He was talking to someone standing in the yard, near the parked truck. The cicadas and crickets were making a giant racket in the trees, but when she held her breath, she could make out his words.

  “…stuck here the whole summer,” he was saying.

  “Well, I don’t know what you guys are going to talk about all day. You’re really different.” Maddy inhaled sharply. He was talking about her—and with that bitchy Rain!

  “I don’t know—my mom always said I could talk to a potato if I had to. I mean, come on. We can talk about…” David trailed off.

  Maddy cringed as Rain laughed. “See? You can’t think of anything. You might as well just face it—she’s a spoiled suburban brat. I mean, she practically gagged at dinner when I told her what I was doing this summer.”

  I did not, Maddy thought.

  David laughed a little. “She’s definitely nothing like I expected she’d be, that’s for sure.”

  Maddy had had enough. She couldn’t believe they would talk about her this way. As she backed away, her toe caught the edge of a wicker rocker and sent her stumbling forward, almost off the porch steps. Crash! The tray fell, shattering the glasses all over the porch. David stopped talking. Overwhelming silence was broken only by the constant cheeping of the crickets. Maddy stood rooted in place. Slowly, David’s figure turned and peered up at the porch. As soon as he saw Maddy, his eyes went wide. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Maddy shot him her most scornful glare and turned her back, walking into the house with slow deliberation. She could feel his eyes burning into her back until the door shut behind her with a bang.

  Forgetting about the mess of broken glass, Maddy tore up the stairs to her room and slammed the door. Her heart pounded under her ribs, and her breath whistled through her nose with anger. With fists clenched, Maddy threw herself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, where a small spider was peacefully spinning a web in one corner. Everything was quiet and then…cheep, cheep, cheep!

  “Shut up!” Maddy shouted, and bolted from the bed. Furiously, she yanked open the porch doors. The cheeping stopped. Silence again. She stood still for a second and then turned and slowly went back into the room. She laid down and reached for her BlackBerry to call Kirsten. CHEEP, CHEEP! CHEEP, CHEEP! It was never-ending. Maddy threw the phone on the bedside table and rolled over, pulling a pillow over her head. Forget it. Why was everything going wrong? She had never felt so out of place. No wonder David liked Rain better. At least she wasn’t a spoiled suburban brat.

  Chapter Nine

  Maddy woke up at six and lay in bed for fifteen minutes, convincing herself that she was going back to sleep. The morning had dawned clear and cool, the sun burning the dew off of the sagebrush as it climbed higher in the sky. Her porch cricket had long since quieted down—or gone to do whatever crickets do during the day—and the room was as peaceful and silent as a church. The pale sunlight painted patterns on the sheets, and the fresh breeze blew across her cheeks from the open porch doors.

  She dreaded having to see David again. It was going to be humiliating. But there wasn’t any way around it. It wasn’t like she had a whole lot of other options or a choice about whom she’d be spending her days with. Maddy got up, leaving the sheets in a wad at the end of the bed, and pulled on a pair of Sevens and her favorite American Apparel scoop-neck tee. She braided her hair, letting the end hang over her shoulder before tiptoeing down the stairs to the silent early-morning kitchen.

  The room had a tidy, expectant feeling. Debbie’s collection of pottery vases on the windowsill stood in the sun like a still life. Maddy dumped coffee into the coffeemaker and leaned her elbows on the counter, listening to the burbling and watching dark brown droplets stream into the glittering glass carafe. It felt good to be up. She realized that she was humming under
her breath.

  When the coffee was ready, Maddy poured it into a thick blue ceramic mug and wrapped a roll from last night in a napkin. She pushed through the screen door and paused a moment on the porch, sipping her coffee and looking at the mist shrouding the grapevines before making her away across the grass to a path through the fields. The sandy soil felt soft under her feet, and the grape leaves brushed her bare arms, leaving little streaks of wet on her smooth, tanned skin. In front of her, birds took flight at her approach, calling into the cool morning air above the vines before wheeling back around to perch on the trellises.

  Maddy reached the edge of the field and approached the shed in the clearing. But instead of going in, she wandered over to the stream and climbed onto a rock, still cool from the night. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her coffee mug against her leg. Taking a giant bite of her roll, she stared idly at the tangled field in front of her and the mountains beyond, draped in the last strands of the morning fog. The warming sun baked the top of her head.

  “Hi,” said a voice behind her. “You’re up early.”

  Maddy started, nearly falling off her rock into the stream. She turned around, her mouth still full of bread. David’s curly hair looked like he had combed it with a fork, and he was wearing baggy khaki shorts and one of his apparently endless supply of holey T-shirts. He held a foil-wrapped plate in his hand.

  “Hello,” Maddy said, trying not to spray crumbs. She pointedly looked away and swallowed.

  “I made you some cookies.”

  What? She whipped her head around, trying not to betray her surprise.

  “Chocolate-chip apricot. Your mom said you were a chocolate girl.”

  She couldn’t help it. “You talked to my mom?”

  “Well, I had to find out what you like.” He widened his eyes innocently and took the foil off the plate. Big, beautiful cookies studded with dark chunks of chocolate and bits of orange apricot were arranged in a pile.