"Remmmmyyyyyyy," I hear someone yell as soon as we're off the boat, and even though it's lovely to be welcomed this way, the greeting is not from the person I hoped to see first.
"Hi, Mason." I smile. "How was your year?"
"Excellent. And yours?"
"Great." I look around. Is Bennett here? Micayla? Mason Redmond, Micayla's crush, can't be here to greet me. He must be looking for someone else. He's nice and everything, but we're not "wait at the ferry" kind of friends.
He reads my mind. "Micayla went into the pharmacy to get some more sunscreen. She told me to wait for you and let you know that she'd be right out." He clips the sunglasses attachment onto his glasses. "Anyway, ciao. I'm going to be late for my Italian class."
Italian class? School just ended; Mason's probably only been on Seagate for a day or two. And he's already studying something.
I stand there, holding Marilyn Monroe in my arms, and watch Mason walk away. I'm searching for Bennett out of the corner of my eye when I feel an arm around my neck and smell the familiar scent of strawberry shampoo.
"Micayla!" I turn around and throw one arm over her shoulders, and we hug and sway with Marilyn Monroe sandwiched between us.
"You're here! You're here! You're here!" She pulls back from the hug finally, and puts her hands on her hips, inspecting me. "And you look so fabulous! You cut your hair? And you didn't even tell me!"
"It was just a trim," I explain.
"No," she insists. "Way more than a trim. It's above your shoulders now! And it already looks lighter from the sun. It's only June!"
"You look amazing," I say. "Your braids are perfect! Did you just get them done?"
"Uh-huh!"
We go back and forth about our hair, and then a beach ball hits me in the head. I turn to look around to see where it came from.
"Sorry! I wanted to get your attention, but I guess that wasn't the best method."
It's Bennett. My Bennett. He's right here in front of me. Royal-blue mesh shorts and a faded gray T-shirt. A buzz cut with a tiny piece sticking up on the top of his head. His shaggy hair is gone.
"Yeah, not the best method" is all I manage to say. The only thing I can think about is how different he looks. How much taller he's gotten. How he's already tan and he's only been here for an hour.
"Remy," he groans. "Don't be so serious. Get out of your New York City mind-set and into your Seagate one. Now!" He yells the last part in a joking way and hits me on the arm, all playful-like.
I smile. "Done and done."
"Well, go settle in, Rem," Micayla tells me. "Meet us at the stadium when you're done. Bennett just organized a 'Welcome Back Ping-Pong Tournament' for all the kids whose parents are busy unpacking."
"Genius idea," I tell them. "Be there soon."
Bennett and Micayla walk in the other direction, and Marilyn Monroe and I stroll to my house. I've been here less than an hour and l already feel great. There's something about the Seagate Island air. As soon as it touches your skin, you're rejuvenated.
Marilyn Monroe and I walk slowly, taking in all the Seagate sights, saying hi to people we know, and stopping to pee a few times. (Mari—not me.)
I keep wondering how it was possible for Bennett to look so different, so much older, today. I guess a lot can change in a year. But why wasn't he waiting for me at the ferry? I guess he was there soon after. Maybe he was too busy setting up that Ping-Pong tournament? Maybe he was as nervous to see me as I was to see him.
I wish life was a movie right now. I want to fast-forward to the end, just for a quick second, to see how it unfolds. And then I'll rewind back to right now so I can go through the whole thing and enjoy it.
With all the technology in the world, it's disappointing that there's still no way to see the future.
The whole summer is ahead of us, and I can't help but wonder what's going to happen.
