Page 91 of How to Hide in Plain Sight
“Is everything all right?” asked Pam when she and Tim walked into Sunny Sunday.
At the sight of our future in-laws, some switch controlling both volume and happiness seemed to short-circuit inside my mother’s brain. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes, yes,yes! Nothing to worry about! Nothing at all!”
“Would the lovebirds like some breakfast?” asked Karma. She didn’t specify which lovebirds she was referring to, but Manuel and I both automatically looked over. We noticed our mistake at the same time, our faces reddening. Karma watched all of this unfold with a grin stretching wider and wider.
Heads down, faces hidden, we accepted scrambled eggs from my sister and paired them with buttered toast. After stuffing the sandwiches into our mouths, we tried to escape out the back door, but Karma stopped us.
“You two skipped out on dishes last night,” she said, pointing at the sink full of egg-spattered pots and pans. “Get to work.”
At the sink, we worked in silence, hands sunk in the warm, soapy water. To stand next to Manuel and communicate in that wordless way that comes so naturally to us—it was nice. Too nice. I’m ashamed to admit how much I relished it. How much I relished the entire day. How I soaked up his presence, letting it cleanse my body the way bubbles cleanse a plate, washing away the grime crusted to its surface. It wasn’t right. A plate is dirtied through no fault of its own, from food and sauces and humanity’s sundry backwash. A plate deserves to be cleansed. The same cannot be said of me.
But I gave in, just for a little. Just this once.
—
“AND YOU’RESURESPEEDY WON’Tmind us taking it out?” Manuel asked for the fifth time.
“Positive,” I said, untying the knot on the MasterCraft’s stern. “We both had the same boating lessons growing up, Manny. We learned to drive in thisexactboat.”
“Which is ridiculous, because the ski boat is the fastest on the island.”
I shrugged, tossing the rope up onto the dock. “We were thirteen. We weren’t exactly at risk of abusing it. We didn’t even know what joyridingwas.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Ohhh, that’s right.” I clapped, sinking into the driver’s seat and switching on the ignition. “I forgot about your littleexcursionsback in Colombia.”
“Shhh.” Manuel glanced around frantically. “I told you that in confidence, Beck.”
“No one is around to hear us, dummy.”
“Che and Juli have ears everywhere.”
I switched the boat intoreverseand backed out of the slip. “You’re even more paranoid than I remembered.”
“You would be, too, if you used to steal your parents’ most expensive car at nine years old and whip it through the streets of Bogotá.”
“Who says I didn’t?”
“Well, considering you’ve never evenbeento Colombia—”
I turned around, throwing a pair of ski gloves at his head. “Only because you’ve never invited me!”
Laughing, Manuel batted the gloves away. I swiveled back around in the chair, easing the boat intoforwardand guiding us out of the boathouse and into the harbor. This early in the morning, wind wasalmost nonexistent. We glided atop the glassy water, our boat’s wake the only ripple for miles.
“Where are we headed?” Manuel asked.
“Anywhere.”
“Excellent. Mind if I drive, then?”
I slid my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose, eyeing him over their top. “You? Mr.Grand Theft Auto?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes,me. The boy who learned how to drive this boat at exactly the same time that you did.”
“Fair enough.”
I hoisted myself out of the pilot’s chair and flopped into the rear-facing spotter’s seat, next to Manny. My thigh landed right beside his, grazing his skin on the way down. Both of our eyes darted down to look at the place where our bodies connected, then back up to each other. Manuel grinned. He squeezed my kneecap, then swung himself into the driver’s seat.
