“Oh man,” Mark said with a laugh. “Isn’t that the most awful crap you’ve ever heard?”
“Yes,” Lindsay agreed, thrilled to know it wasn’t Mark’s music. “It’s like a song for a bad yoga studio commercial.”
“Totally,” Mark said, really laughing now.
“Ugh,” Lindsay said.
She searched for something else to say about it, but her mind was blank. Mark kept looking at her with that amazing smile, and she could tell he wanted her to keep talking, but she didn’t have a clue what to say. Looking away from him, hoping that her mind would clear without the distraction of his face, Lindsay looked down at the sand, following its ridges and grooves with her eyes.
Say something, she thought, only she didn’t know if she meant it for herself or Mark. It didn’t really matter. She simply wanted the uncomfortable silence to pass. When Mark remained silent, she forced herself to say, “So, if you weren’t grounded, what kinds of stuff would you be doing?”
“Today?” Mark said. “I’d probably be surfing. It’s not a great day for it—only two-to four-foot swells. I mean, a couple days back when the storm was coming in, they were slammin’, but it’s kind of quiet. Still, it’s waves and board. A hell of a lot better than walls and bed.”
“Cool,” Lindsay said. “I’d love to learn how to surf.”
“It’s great,” Mark said. “Other than that, I just kind of hang these days. I used to ski and play football and stuff, but that’s kind of over. Doug and Jack aren’t what you’d call athletic types.”
“They look pretty athletic.”
Mark made a phfft noise with his lips. “They lift weights and jog, but they aren’t into human sports, you know? They aren’t out in the world, sharing the slopes and the streets. I mean, there’s a world full of people, and if you aren’t among them, affecting them, enjoying them, you might as well not exist. It’s a total nonlife, and they embrace it because they’re afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Lindsay asked.
“I don’t know. Just life,” Mark said. “Doug and Jack want everything to be controlled and perfect, and the only way to get that is to stay away from real people and real life. They don’t understand that chaos and control are the fuel mix that keeps the world spinning. It’s screwed up. They’re totally removed. Unfortunately, they decided to remove me, too.”
“And there’s no place else you could go?” she asked.
“Not now,” Mark said. His face grew serious, darkened. “Right now, I’m trapped.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It’s a temporary situation, but it feels like it’s been going on forever.” Mark’s face brightened. “But now I’ve met you. You can visit and keep me company every now and then. I mean, when they aren’t home. They’d totally freak if they knew we were talking.”
“Well, then we won’t tell them, but maybe I’ll stop by again.”
Mark’s mouth spread into a wide, charming grin. The sight of it just erased Lindsay’s cool, and she felt like an excited child. Again she found herself in the middle of a long silence, her mind filled with too many thoughts to pick just one.
“So where do you go to school?” Mark asked.
“Baker High,” Lindsay said, then realized Mark would have no idea where that was. “It’s in Helensburgh, Pennsylvania.”
“I was in PA a couple of times. Philly mostly. It was okay.”
“Philadelphia is about an hour away.”
“What’s Helensburgh like?”
“Kind of like Smallville, only without the hotties.”
Mark laughed. “I’ve been in plenty of those places.”
Another uncomfortable silence fell over them.
Lindsay was about to ask how long he and his guardians had lived in the house when she heard their car turning into the drive. Mark’s face went from cool and smiling to absolute panic in under a second.
“They’re home,” Lindsay said, suddenly feeling desperate herself.
“Close the window,” Mark said, his voice sharp with fear. “You have to close the window.”
“I…” Lindsay wanted to run. The car was already parked on the other side of the house. Any second the doors would open, and Mark’s guardians might hear them.
“Please,” Mark said, drawing away from the desk to the center of the room. “You have to close it.”
Lindsay shot her hands out and pushed against the glass until the window was again secure in its frame. She looked at Mark a final time. He mouthed the words Thank you.
Then she ran.
5
Lindsay felt so many things. Excitement. Happiness. Disappointment. She paced her living room. Nervous energy crackled in her legs and her fingertips. She needed to keep moving or the energy would burn her up from the inside. But it was all too amazing for her to believe. It was like a fairy tale, only in reverse, because the prince was the one in the tower held captive by his evil guardians. And Mark was as close to a prince as she was likely to find on Redlands Beach. He was handsome and athletic, and he was a musician. Or at least, she assumed he was. He had a piano in his room and little else. It must have been important to him. She should have asked if he played, but she had been so flustered.
She still felt that edgy excitement. She’d wanted an amazing story to tell Kate and everyone when she got home, and now she was living one. Too bad the story had such a sad beginning, with Mark snared by his guardians and all.
He looked so scared, Lindsay thought. Do they abuse him? Did they hit him? That cry I heard over the music—could that have been Mark? That’s totally illegal. Nothing he did could be that bad. Maybe he shoplifted or got caught with a blunt or some beer. He might have borrowed his guardians’ car without asking. Kids do stuff like that all the time, but parents act like everything’s a murder charge.
Lindsay stopped pacing for a moment. She looked out the front window at the beach. The water twinkled with silver light as gentle foam-capped waves whispered to the shore. The sun was high above, and the sand was covered with people. She tried to concentrate on the beach-goers in order to undo the knots her emotions had tied in her head and chest.
It didn’t work.
Lindsay walked on the boardwalk. After meeting Mark, she thought about lying out on the beach, but she was too agitated to just lie down on a towel.
Hot sun bathed her face and shoulders with wonderful warmth. Her sandals clacked on the wooden boards. The boardwalk shops were different than she remembered. Oh, there was still the usual selection of beachwear and surf shops, the flat-front food shacks and the touristy souvenir shops, but now a nice café had sprung up, as well as a clothing store that carried actual fashions, not just T-shirts and bikinis. Not to mention, the buildings were freshly painted. It all looked so much nicer than she remembered it. People wandered in and out of the stores, laughing and pointing, holding hands. Children were everywhere, some clinging close to their parents, others racing back and forth over the boards.
One figure caught her attention—the burner she’d seen outside of her uncle’s place yesterday. He stood by the wooden railing across the walk from her. His head was down. Blond dreadlocks formed a thick ragged bush on his scalp.
Lindsay stopped walking. The boy was hunched over as he had been when lighting his pipe amid the thunderstorm, but now his hand moved rapidly from his forehead to his belly and then from pectoral to pectoral. He was crossing himself like priests do, except he kept doing it. Frantically.