“I didn’t realize I hadn’t told you my last name. I guess it never came up. I can try again. Hi, I’m Remi Moore. Nice to meet you.” Remi smiled at Julianne, waiting for her response.
Julianne just shook her head from side to side, mute.
“Okay,” Remi said, trying again. “Remi is short for Remington, but no one other than my folks ever uses the full name. My full, full name is Remington Justin Moore. When I was in third grade the other kids teased me because they thought Remington sounded like the name of a British butler. My cousin Sophie also said that the Remington is a type of razor or something, but I’d never heard of it.” He continued to smile weakly in Julianne’s direction. When Julianne still didn’t answer, his face slumped a little. “Jules,” he said quietly, his big brown eyes begging. “I really don’t understand. What’s wrong?”
Her frustration boiling inside, Julianne finally spat out, “Your parents’ house! That’s what’s wrong!” Remi looked at her as though she were arguing her case in ancient Mayan or something. “Why do you care about my parents’ house? I really don’t understand.”
“It’s destroying the beach!” Julianne nearly wailed.
“You know, the beach where I grew up? Where I live 77
Hailey Abbott
now? With my family? The beach where we hung out the other day?”
“Julianne, this doesn’t make any sense,” Remi protested. “Listen, I’m really sorry that you don’t like the house, but it’s my parents’ house. Not mine. I didn’t design it. I didn’t build it. And, last time I checked, my parents weren’t in the habit of asking the professional opinion of their eighteen-year-old son before making major life choices. If they were, I wouldn’t have spent my entire life toting around the name Remington. If you’re wondering, I also didn’t get to weigh in on their retirement plans.” He paused, as if waiting for Julianne to crack a smile.
“You just don’t understand,” Julianne replied bitterly.
“Do you even know what that house could do to my family?”
“No!” Remi exclaimed, his face knitted in frustration.
“That’s what I’m trying to say—I have no idea! And I have no idea what I have to do with any of it. Please, please explain it to me!”
Julianne’s mind raced. Was he playing dumb? How could he not see? It was so obvious! Overwhelmed with emotion, she plopped back down in the desk chair. As she opened her mouth to try to explain one last time, the trailer door opened and Mitch popped in.
“Hey, Jules.” He nodded his head in acknowledgment at Remi before continuing. “Just wanted to check in.
How’s it going? Need anything?”
78
Forbidden Boy
Julianne thought for a split second before getting up and gathering her things. “Yeah, Mitch, actually I do.
Can you please tell Bill I’ll be working on my sketches from home this afternoon? I just don’t feel right about hogging our project manager’s desk any longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Yeah, no problem. Everything okay?” Mitch tilted his head and looked at her curiously.
“Yup. Absolutely fine.” Julianne nodded. Brushing past Remi and Mitch, she dashed out of the trailer as quickly as humanly possible. She couldn’t wait to get home.
79
Chapter Seven
!
Julianne was exhausted beyond belief when she got home half an hour later. Her confrontation with Remi, followed by the threat of nasty drivers cutting her bike off, had left her wanting to do nothing more than curl up in her bed with a sketchbook, e-mail Kat, and then call it a night—even though it was only three in the afternoon. She turned her key in the door and had barely placed one foot on the doormat when she heard spastic panting coming from the next room. It sounded like someone had let a hyperactive puppy in from the sun. Before Jules had a chance to think about it, Chloe ran into the hallway—her hand clapped over her mouth—doing measured breathing exercises to avoid hyperventilating. Julianne hadn’t seen her sister this 80
Forbidden Boy
worked up about something since her college acceptance letters showed up a week late. Normally Chloe was calm, upbeat, and cheerful. Standing in front of her right now, though, was a trembling mess who just happened to be wearing Chloe’s straight-legged, dark-wash Joe’s jeans and fitted pink blazer.
“Chloe, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Julianne felt her own heart race as she stared at her shaking sister.
“Is it Dad? Is Dad okay?”
Chloe nodded and pulled Julianne by the wrist over to the beach-facing bay windows in the family room. A few hundred feet down the beach, Julianne could see what was inhibiting Chloe’s breathing. While Julianne was at work, the Moores had set up huge orange fences all the way down the beach. Every five feet a hazard sign hung off the fences shouting PRIVATE PROPERTY: ALL
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.
Jules couldn’t believe it—just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse! She stood with Chloe at the window, rubbing her sister’s back and muttering,
“Those rats, those little rats. Those complete and total dirtbags.”
Chloe, whose breathing was finally slowing to normal, managed to squeak out, “What? Who?”
“The Moores, who else?” Julianne practically spat the name out. The orange gates looked offensive and menacing, even against the baby blue afternoon sky. It was 81
Hailey Abbott
like they were living in a biohazard zone or a bombed-out shell of a city. The gates themselves were aggressively orange—like they were there specifically to tell every other part of the color wheel to go to hell.
Their father, who had been working down the hall in his studio, ambled into the room.
“Girls, what’s going on in here?” He stopped short when he saw their eyes fixed on the orange fences. “Oh, yeah, that.”
“Had you already seen this?” Chloe yelped. Their father was always mellow, but they expected more of a reaction when their home had just been surrounded by what appeared to be giant, Day-Glo riot gear. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s not worth discussing,” Dad replied, turning from the window. “It’s just a show. It’s just supposed to scare people away. If they were really planning on doing something, they wouldn’t need to make such a big spec-tacle about it. They’d just do it.” Chloe and Julianne both nodded. It might have been cold comfort, but he definitely had a point. “Don’t worry, girls. It’s going to be fine. We’ll figure something out.” He sounded so certain, so sincere, that Julianne couldn’t help but relax a bit.
“Okay, I need to shower. I’m covered in dust from work. But I think I’ll go for a quick run first.” Jules turned toward the stairs. She got as far as the doorway 82
Forbidden Boy
before the vision of the glaring orange gates compelled her to spin around toward the window for one last look.
Dad was sitting on the window seat, his face tilted slightly away from the beach view, his fingertips lightly touching the glass. For the first time, Julianne saw something behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before. For all of his mild-mannered, easygoing confidence, their father was scared.
! ! !
After her run, Julianne took the steps two by two on her way back to her room. Her sneakers were still caked with a little bit of sand, but, for the first time all day, her head was clear. She held on to the banister outside of Chloe’s room, stretching her calves and quads, and listened to the ebb and flow of her sister’s voice as she chatted on the phone. She was obviously catching up with one of her Kappa Delta sisters, so Jules decided to leave her be until after she’d showered.
Twenty minutes later, Kelly Clarkson was blasting from Chloe’s Bose iPod dock and the girls were shouting along at the top of their lungs. “Since you been gone, I can breathe for the first time . . .” Chloe was up on the bed in full-on rock-star air-guitar mode, her hair flying wildly around her, while Julianne was sprawled out on her back on the floor, her bare feet propped up on 83