Page 2 of Surfside Sisters

After Sebastian, two years younger, came Isabelle. Mr. Maxwell often bragged, “I hit it out of the park with her!” At which Mrs. Maxwell would respond, “Not by yourself, you didn’t.” Such casual remarks alluding to sex made the Maxwell parents urbane and superior in Keely’s eyes.

Isabelle was a beauty like her mother, only willowy instead of voluptuous. Unlike Sebastian, she was aware of the power of her looks, and she was a friendly girl, but deep down inside not really a team player. She liked secrets, liked sharing them with Keely and no one else. She liked plotting and disobeying and sneaking and hiding. She liked mischief. She was often in trouble with the school or her parents, but she was also almost genius smart, so she got good grades and she knew when to rein in her wild side.

The Maxwell house was always crowded with kids of all ages, playing Ping-Pong in the basement, doing crafts at the dining room table while Donna baked cookies, or giggling in Isabelle’s room while trying on clothes. Fido, their slightly dense yellow Lab, roamed the house looking for dropped food. He always found something. Salt and Pepper, their long-haired cats, gave the evil eye to any humans that tried to remove them from whatever soft nest they’d made, but if they were in the right mood, they’d accept gentle stroking and reward the human with a tranquilizing purr.

Keely was fiercely, but secretly, jealous of the entire family. It wasn’t that her parents weren’t rich like the Maxwells—well, it wasn’t only that. It wasn’t that the Green house was a small ranch outside town. It wasn’t that Keely had longed for a brother or sister and had remained an only-lonely. It wasn’t even that her parents were allergic to animals, so she never had a kitten or puppy. She never even had a damn hamster!

But she wouldn’t have traded her parents for anyone. Her father was a car mechanic who taught her how to change a tire and make window washer fluid. Her mother was a nurse who taught her how to use a butterfly bandage and stop a nosebleed. Mr. and Mrs. Green were well-liked in the community, and they loved Keely with all their hearts. Her father taught her to surf cast and bodyboard. He showed her where the prickly pear cactus grew on Coatue and where the sweetest wild blueberries grew on the moors. He told her why the Red Sox and the Patriots were the best teams anywhere, ever. He gave her books by Jack London and Jules Verne so she wouldn’t read only what he called “girly books.” Her mother adored him. She made delicious jams and jellies from the fruits they picked. She dressed and grilled the fish they caught and brought home. When she could, she went with them in late autumn, during islander scalloping time. The three of them drove to Great Point in the winter to see all the seals, and the first “book” Keely wrote was about an orphaned seal adopted by a family just like hers.

Isabelle loved hanging out at Keely’s house because she could escape her noisy family, and Keely loved being at Isabelle’s house because she loved being around that noisy family. Plus, secretly, Keely had a crush on Sebastian.

Sebastian was two years older than Keely. She was ten, he was twelve. The end.

She hid her hopeless childish love from Isabelle, who had sharp edges when it came to her brother. Isabelle was constantly confiding to Keely about how Sebastian was so perfect she felt she could never measure up. She carried a massive inferiority complex on her slender shoulders. It didn’t help that half the girls in town, older and younger, sucked up to Isabelle, acting all sweetie pie–best friends only because they wanted to get into the Maxwell house and flirt with Sebastian.

That wasn’t the case with Keely. She had chosen Isabelle first, and knew they would always be best friends. She couldn’t evenimaginelife without Isabelle. And often, she felt as if she were a small but real part of the Maxwell family. When they went to the fair in the summer or a Theatre Workshop play in the winter or out in the Maxwells’ Rhodes 19 sailboat for a day at Tuckernuck, Keely was often invited along. They even kept a life jacket just for Keely hanging on the hook in their back hall. The fifth chair at the dining room table was called “Keely’s chair,” no matter who sat in it. Mr. Maxwell made Keely feel bigger, better, more worthy of simply being on the planet. Keely adored him, but she kept this to herself as much as she hid her infatuation with Sebastian. She was an only child, good at keeping her own confidences.

“My parents are boring,” Keely confessed one day when she and Isabelle were idly dangling on the complicated swing set in the Maxwells’ backyard. They were ten, too old to play on the swings, young enough to enjoy their joke: “hanging out.”

“You’re nuts!” Isabelle said. “I’d give anything to live your life. No big brother flicking my ear and forcing me to play catch. I could lie in my quiet room reading and reading.”

“Or writing and writing,” Keely said.

In fifth grade, they confessed to each other they wanted to become writers. They were already best friends, but this shared, slightly eccentric hope bonded the two girls like superglue. They spent long summer hours writing scenes and stories, reading and discussing them with each other. They’d phone constantly to suggest new plot ideas, to mention a cool new word (quixotic, ethereal) they’d learned. They planned their glamorous new lives. They’d have their novels published at the same time. They’d have apartments across from each other in New York. On the island, Isabelle would drive a Porsche convertible. Keely decided on a Mercedes SUV so she’d have room for all her children.

But they weren’t snobs or freaks. They did stuff with the other girls. They went to all the home football games, to slumber parties, and even the occasional day trip to the Cape with friends to shop and eat at the mall.

Still, they treasured their secret ambition. They felt like superheroes, masquerading as silly girls secretly aiming for the stars.

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The summer the girls were ten, the Maxwells went off on their European “jaunt”—as Mrs. Maxwell called it. One afternoon in the middle of August, they returned. As always, even before she unpacked, Isabelle phoned Keely. “I’m home!” Then she biked to Keely’s house as fast as her legs would pedal.

Keely was out on the lawn, waiting, jumping up and down with excitement. The girls screamed with joy when they saw each other. Keely and Isabelle hugged and whirled around and fell down on the soft green grass, laughing like hyenas.

“I missed yousomuch,” Isabelle cried.

“I missed you more,” Keely insisted. “You have to tell me everything.”

Keely’s mother came out of the house. “Isabelle. Let me look at you. Oh, honey, I think you’re two inches taller.”

Isabelle jumped up and hugged Mrs. Green. “I know. I’m a giraffe,” Isabelle said, fake mournfully.

Keely’s mother laughed. “You’re a beauty. Now tell me if I’m correct. You girls like a large pizza with onions and pepperoni and a Pepperidge Farm chocolate cake.”

“Yay, Mom, you remember!” Keely stood up, brushing grass off her shorts. Every time Isabelle returned from the Maxwells’ European summers, Isabelle and Keely celebrated by eating on the back patio, just the two of them, stuffing themselves with pizza and cake and laughing and whispering and eating more cake until two or three in the morning when Isabelle, groggy with jet lag, said she had to sleep. They’d bring the mostly empty boxes of food into the kitchen and quietly tiptoe to Keely’s bedroom. Without even brushing their teeth, they collapsed on the twin beds and slept until noon the next day.

This summer, when Keely woke, Isabelle was gone. Keely wandered into the kitchen. Both her parents were at work, but her mother had left a note for her.

Isabelle has an appointment with the orthodontist. I drove her to her house at nine this morning. She said she’ll call you.

Poor Isabelle,Keely thought. To have to spend the morning getting fitted for braces—tragic.

Also, Sebastian wants you to call him.

Well, that took her breath away. Sebastian wanted Keely to call him?

Keely stared at the penciled note on the scrap of paper, willing it to reveal the true meaning. She was certain Sebastian had no idea how she felt about him. She had never told Isabelle because, face it, no matter how many multi-syllabic words Keely knew, no matter what fabulous grades Keely received, she was still too young, toochildishto be in love. If she did tell Isabelle, Izzy would fall over laughing till she wet her pants. Keely would die of a thousand sharp stabs of embarrassment if she ever told Isabelle.

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