Labor of Love Page 7

  I went a couple of rows back and took a seat by the window. Jenna slid onto the seat in front of me, and Tank sat beside her. That was cool. I could sit alone.

  But suddenly Brady was there. He eased down beside me.

  “I think the bus is going to be packed,” Brady said. “Tight fit for everyone, so I figured sitting by someone I knew beat sitting by a stranger.”

  “These are all people from the site. Don’t you know them?”

  “Some of ’em, sure, but not like I know you.”

  What exactly did that mean?

  “So should I move?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, you’re fine.”

  He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows. “Some would say I’m better than fine.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.

  Sara took a head count, and then the bus headed out.

  “So…Sara predicted I’d walk into your life?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Uh, no, she predicted a red baseball hat was in my future. Not exactly the same thing.”

  “That’s weird, though.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean, how many Chiefs caps could be in the city?” Before I could answer, his grin broadened. “Let me guess. Five million?”

  I smiled, shrugged. I didn’t want to be unfriendly. But I didn’t want to be too friendly.

  “What else did she say?” he asked.

  “Not much. That things were a mess. There’d be hammering. Pretty vague.”

  “And pretty general. That could pretty much apply to anyone.”

  “That’s what I thought. It was interesting, but not something I want to do on a regular basis.”

  “Well, I’m all about interesting and having fun.”

  I scowled at him. “But a swamp? Really. How much fun can we have at a swamp?”

  “As much as we want.”

  Chapter 9

  Honey Island Swamp. I liked the name—the Honey Island part at least sounded sweet—but I still couldn’t get past my image of a swamp being, well, a swamp.

  It was located almost an hour from New Orleans. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. Maybe taking a look at slime covered water from a dock and moving on. Swatting at a few mosquitoes, shooing away flies. Heading back to the Big Easy.

  But no, we were getting out on the swamp, in a boat. And I soon discovered that the sounds out there were a different kind of music than what we’d heard in the city. Here it was the croak of bullfrogs—some were disgustingly huge and ugly—and the chirp of crickets. There were mysterious knocks and pecks and little trills. Luckily Sara had brought lots of insect repellent for anyone who wanted it. I’d slathered, sprayed, and squirted it on. I was taking no chances. I was not into bugs.

  And we were at a very bug-infested place.

  We climbed aboard a large, covered boat, like the kind I’d ridden once at a safari ride at a theme park—except this one was real. It didn’t run along a rail. It had a motor and a captain, who steered it through the swamp.

  Benches lined all four sides of the boat. We all worked our way around the deck. I managed to get a seat near the front of the boat. Brady sat beside me.

  I was turned sort of sideways on the bench, so I could see clearly things that approached our side. Brady was twisted around, too, which almost had us spooning.

  “You smell really nice,” he said in a low voice.

  “It’s the insect repellent.”

  “It is?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him sniffing the back of his hand. “Oh God, it is. How sick is that—to like the smell of insect repellent?”

  I laughed. “Pretty sick.”

  “But admit it. You were thinking I smelled good, too.”

  Okay, I had been, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “Maybe.”

  The motor cranked to life and the boat glided away from the dock. I was surprised that the water looked more like what you’d find in a river than what you might expect to find in a swamp.

  Our guide was native to the area, and he shared a lot of the history—especially about pirates and Big Foot sightings—as we journeyed deeper into the swamp. Because so much of the area was protected, he explained, Honey Island Swamp was one of the least-altered river swamps in the country. It probably looked the same more than two hundred years ago when pirates were hiding out there.

  “Wow,” I whispered. There was an awesome beauty to the place. Huge cypress trees rose from the water.

  And I’d expected the marshes to smell…well, like stagnant water. There was a little of that, but there was also the scent of wild azaleas. I hadn’t expected the sweet fragrance.

  “Look,” Brady said, pointing.

  At first I thought it was a log, resting at the edge of the bank, barely visible through the tall grasses. But it was an alligator. A very large alligator.

  “We have more than a million alligators in Louisiana,” the guide said.

  “Imagine if they ever decided to band together,” Brady said. “They could take over the state.”

  “I think I’ve seen that in a movie.”

  “Me, too. I can never get enough of giant alligator movies.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah, the bigger the creature the better. Night of the Lepus. A classic.”

  My dad was a huge creature-feature watcher, so I’d pretty much seen them all.

  “Now, see, I didn’t get that one. What’s scary about a bunny rabbit?” I asked.

  “It’s a big, big bunny rabbit.”

  “Still, not scary.”

  The guide warned us to keep all our limbs inside the boat. Then he began making a sound I’d never heard before. Alligators—the ones I’d spotted and ones that had been hidden—began slipping into the water and gliding toward the boat.

  “Ohmigod!” I couldn’t help it. There were so many. I imagined them tipping the boat over. I’d definitely watched too many bad movies with my dad if I really thought that was going to happen.

  “It’s okay,” Brady said, putting his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder.

  He was so comforting. But this wasn’t a date. It was a group outing, and we were all sitting close together. It was just natural to reassure each other that we weren’t about to become alligator dinner.

  The guide began tossing something toward the alligators and the clack of their mouths snapping shut filled the air.

  “Is he tossing marshmallows?” I asked.

  “Looks like.”

  “How did anyone find out that they like marshmallows?”

  “Beats me.”

  Every now and then we’d come in close to the shore, and we’d see other animals: deer, red wolves, raccoons, beavers, turtles…and always the alligators.

  “I don’t think I’d want them for neighbors,” I said quietly.

  “Me either.”

  We saw an egret and other birds. It was an untouched paradise. I knew New Orleans had once been swampland, and I wondered if it had looked like this at one time. Hard to imagine.

  I looked over my shoulder to see Sara sitting near the captain. I figured we were safe. She wouldn’t get on the boat if she saw danger, would she? On the other hand, her visions were so cryptic. Maybe she just saw herself swimming and didn’t realize it meant she’d be swimming with the gators.

  Amber and Sean were sitting together. He was pointing stuff out to her. She was smiling. They were just being friendly. Having fun. Like me and Brady. No big deal.

  Jenna and Tank were sitting close, his arms around her as they looked out at the swamp. There was no doubt that Tank was really interested in her.

  I turned my attention back to the alligators. Sometimes nature was so powerful, you had no defense against it.

  It was early evening when we got back to Sara’s, and Ms. Wynder was there, waiting for us. Before anyone could say anything, she said, “I’ve made reservations for eight o’clock. We need to get moving.”

  Jenna didn’t bother to hide her disappointment as
she waved good-bye to Tank. I thought Amber looked relieved. I knew I was. It gave me time to think, to try to figure out what, if anything, was happening with Brady and me. We all got along, so I could see our little group hanging out together. But at the same time, did I need to explain to him that more kisses weren’t in our future?

  On the other hand, did I really want to give that up?

  After we were seated at the restaurant and had given our orders to the waitress, Ms. Wynder folded her arms on the table. She looked incredibly serious.

  “All right, girls, we need to talk,” she said.

  I wondered what we’d done wrong. Everyone looked guilty.

  “I know some of you are developing…friendships.” She paused and looked at each of us.

  I wanted to raise my hand and say, “Not me!”

  But the truth was that maybe I was. A little.

  “During the week, curfew is midnight. On Saturday, two o’clock. I already have all your cell phone numbers”—she held up her phone as though to demonstrate—“and I want phones to be kept on at all times.”

  “What about when we’re at a movie?” one of the other girls said.

  “Vibrate. I will be making room checks. Or stop by my room and let me know when you get in. Are there any questions?”

  It sounded pretty straightforward to me.

  She smiled. “All right then. Tell me about the swamp.”

  The next day, it seemed like the sun had moved a million miles closer to earth. How else could it be so much hotter?

  Or maybe it was just that we were working harder. We were actually beginning to see progress. John had given crowbars to some of the guys to start ripping off the outer walls.

  Jenna had muttered, “Sexist!”

  So Tank had given her his crowbar. Or let her work the crowbar with him. He’d put his arms around her and together they’d ratchet off boards. Boards that Amber and I would pick up after they were tossed to the side, put them in the wheelbarrow, and haul them to the curb.

  I caught Brady watching me a time or two. Today he was geared up so much that the only thing that gave him away was when his head was turned in my direction. It felt as if he was studying me, trying to figure me out.

  What was there to figure out?

  We’d had fun at the swamp yesterday, but it hadn’t been anything serious. And it hadn’t ended in a kiss like the first night. Actually it hadn’t had any type of real ending.

  There had just been stepping off the bus and Ms. Wynder ushering us away like a hen going after her chicks. And all of us too surprised to say anything other than “See you tomorrow.”

  And even though we’d seen each other earlier today, our greeting had been a little cautious. Just a hey. Like we were both trying to figure out if yesterday had been more than just hanging out together because of convenience.

  Do you like me?

  Should I like you?

  Where do we go from here?

  Should we go from here?

  I really wasn’t sure. Last night, when I’d asked Amber why she’d hooked up with Sean, she’d said, “Everyone was pairing up. It would have been rude not to.”

  But if you kept pairing up with the same person, didn’t you eventually become a couple? I didn’t want to be part of a couple. I didn’t want expectations.

  Hooking up one night when I didn’t expect to see him again was one thing. Hooking up twice was creeping toward dangerous territory.

  I thought maybe Amber was feeling the same way, too, because she was staying pretty near me today, helping me haul the debris to the curb.

  It kept getting hotter and hotter, and by late afternoon, it was miserable.

  John announced that we could quit for the day, but we were so close to being finished with the gutting that everyone protested. We all wanted to stay and get the job done.

  Brady, Tank, and Sean walked to their car—a black Honda Civic—pulled their tees off, and tossed them inside. Not that I blamed them. All our shirts were damp from the humidity and our efforts. I thought about how nice it would feel to have the breeze blowing over exposed, damp skin.

  They tossed their gear onto a table. I guess they’d had enough of being safe. They wanted to be not so hot.

  Carrying their crowbars, they headed back toward the house. I really tried not to stare at Brady’s chest. It had looked nice in the shadows of Bourbon Street, but now there were no shadows. And he was definitely in shape.

  Tank walked past us, touching Jenna’s shoulder as he went by. “Jenna, help me out over here, will you?”

  Only Jenna didn’t move. Neither did Amber. Neither did I, for that matter. We were staring at Tank’s back. His right shoulder, to be precise.

  A shoulder that sported a tattoo of a blue and green flying dragon.

  A dragon breathing fiery red and blue flames.

  Fire that didn’t burn.

  Chapter 10

  “I know you must think I’m insane, but I just can’t help it.”

  Following an afternoon that seemed to have way too many hours—and surprises—in it, we were back at the dorm. Jenna and I were standing in our room, speechless, watching as Amber tossed all her stuff into her suitcase.

  “I mean, red Chiefs cap”—she pointed at me—“fire that doesn’t burn?” She pointed at Jenna. “I don’t care what you say, there is something to that psychic reading. I’ve got to go home and figure out if things between Chad and me are real or over.”

  She’d freaked out when she’d seen Tank’s tattoo. She’d told Ms. Wynder that her mother called and her grandma had died.

  That afternoon, her mother had called, to see how things were going, after Amber had left a panicked message on her voice mail saying that she was homesick and wanted to fly home—immediately, that night, the first flight out that she could get.

  And her grandmother had died—five years ago.

  “She didn’t say you were going to break up with Chad,” I pointed out.

  “She said I was going to find something better.”

  “Well, if there is something better, isn’t now the time to find out?” Jenna asked. “You’re only in high school—”

  “Who are you—my mother? Always thinking that I’m too young to know what I’m doing? I know what I’m doing.”

  “We’ve been planning this summer adventure for months!” Jenna exclaimed. “You can’t just pack up and leave. We just got here!”

  “This is a free country. I can change my mind about what I want to do.”

  “But we’re only going to be here six weeks,” I reminded her. “Chad will still be there.”

  “I’m not going back for Chad. I’m going back for me. You don’t understand how I feel about him.”

  I stepped in front of her, trying to stop yet another mad dash between her dresser and the suitcase on the bed. “I know you’re crazy about Chad—”

  “Not Chad. Sean. I really, really like Sean.” She dropped down on the bed, scrunching her clothes between her hands. “That first night when we were listening to the band at that bar, I was leaning into him and he had his arm around me, and I wasn’t thinking about Chad at all. I was just thinking about how nice it was to be with Sean. And then yesterday at the swamp—I knew I should have been hanging around with you.”

  “What could you do? He took your hand—”

  “He took my hand because he thinks I really like him. He doesn’t even know about Chad.”

  “He doesn’t know you have a boyfriend?”

  “How do you tell a guy that?”

  “‘Oh, by the way, I have a boyfriend?’”

  “But what if I shouldn’t?”

  “What?” Jenna asked, while I said, “Huh?”

  I was afraid Amber was about to veer off into one of her strange thoughts that we couldn’t follow.

  “Look—Chad? He’s the only one I’ve ever wanted to date. I’ve been crushing on him since I was a freshman. When he finally asked me out over winter break, I thought he was it.
Forever. And now, all of a sudden, it’s like all I can think about is Sean. And that’s so wrong. I know it’s wrong. He’s like that extra scoop of ice cream that you know you shouldn’t have, but you can’t resist it. I need to get as far away from the ice cream as possible. I need to go home.”

  Okay, some of what she was saying was making sense. I wanted to try to convince her that she should stay, but I couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t without fearing that she’d cheat on Chad—and I’d be encouraging it. She was right. It was better to leave and figure out what was going on.

  “I know if we hadn’t gone to see the psychic that I wouldn’t have all these doubts. Or maybe I would. I just don’t know anymore. I mean, what was I thinking to even consider going away for most of the summer? I have a boyfriend and nothing should be more important than him.”

  Jenna sat on the edge of the bed and drew her long legs up beneath her. “You know, what you’re doing is sort of self-fulfilling Sara’s prophecy. You’re going to make happen exactly what she predicted. Just like Tank was talking about.”

  “You can’t tell me that you weren’t a little freaked out when you saw that tattoo.”

  “I was surprised,” Jenna admitted. “But it could be that we’re taking her words and seeing things that apply. We’re assuming she meant the tattoo because it fits. But it could mean something else.”

  “Like what?” Amber challenged.

  Jenna sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Okay. I thought it was a little difficult to read anything else into that tattoo, but I understood what Jenna was saying—or trying to say. You see what you expect to see, and Saraphina had influenced what we expected to see.

  Amber turned to me. “Look at the bright side. You don’t have to sleep on the AeroBed anymore. You can have a real bed.”

  “The bed isn’t an issue. I’d rather have you here.”

  “I can’t, guys. I’m sorry, but I just can’t stay.”

  An hour later, Jenna and I hugged Amber good-bye and watched her climb into the minivan. Ms. Wynder, after repeatedly clucking about how sorry she was that Amber’s grandmother had died, drove Amber to the airport where she could catch her flight back to Houston.