I stared at him. In the distance, I could hear the sound lapping against the sea wall, and the cry of gulls. Inside the restaurant, Sidney and Dave and Morgan and Eric had gotten their table, eaten, and left, hours ago. Sidney had made me promise to come to The Point with her to lay out by the water tomorrow, our last free day before school started. She had even invited Morgan along as well, a display of graciousness I knew was a direct result of her being the new Quahog Princess.

Now, in the lull between the brunch and dinner shift, the line cooks in the kitchen had turned the satellite radio to the eighties station, because Peggy had gone home. The speakers were pounding Pat Benatar.

But all I could hear was my own breathing.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded, ignoring the feeling of tightness in my chest. “How could you know any of that? Unless—”

“Unless I was there that night? Iwas there that night,” Tommy said, still looking bored. “I was on my bike, over by the side of the building. You guys didn’t see me. But I saw you. And I heard them. And what they were going to write.”

“Tommy.” My heartbeat had sped up again. Because this was awful. This changed everything. This—

“And after Seth made the letter F,” Tommy said, “you grabbed the spray can away from him, and you wrote—”

“—freak,” I finished for him, my eyes closed.

“Right,” Tommy said. His voice sounded strange. I couldn’t figure out why. But even though I’d opened my eyes, I didn’t dare raise my gaze and risk glancing at his face. Because I knew what the sight of those amber eyes — even behind such dark lenses — might do to me. To say nothing of his lips.

“I always wondered why you did that,” he said. “Whydid you do that, Katie?”

“Because,” I said. I wanted to cry all over again. Like I apparently hadn’t cried enough last night, weeping on my mom’s shoulder — and then, after she’d gone to bed, into my pillow — half the night. I kept my gaze on the gravel at my feet.

It was time to tell the truth. Thewhole truth.

“I couldn’t let him write what he wanted,” I said. “Seth, I mean. But I couldn’t stop him from finishing what he’d started. So I grabbed the can, and wrote something else. Oh, what does itmatter, anyway?”

“It matters,” Tommy said in the same quiet voice. “It’s always mattered. To me, anyway. Whenever things got really bad — and they did get really, very bad — I’d think about what you did. And I’d wonder why you did it.”

“Because you were my friend,” I said quickly. The tears weren’t just gathering under my eyelashes now. They were starting to spill out from under them. Frustrated — because I didn’t want him to see I was crying — I turned around and plunked down so that I was sitting on the bike rack.

“Was that what we were?” Tommy asked.

And now I knew that that thing was in his voice, that thing I hadn’t been able to put a name to until now. It was bitterness.

And it made me cry out, “Yes, of course! I may have been a crappy friend to you, Tommy. But I was still your friend. Iwanted to do right by you. As much as Icould do, in my admittedly limited capacity.”

“Hey.” Now Tommy’s voice was gentle. I still couldn’t look up at him — because I was ashamed of my tears. But I could see his feet move into my sight range. He was wearing black suede Pumas. “Katie. You’ve got the wrong idea. I never blamed you. I thought it was cool, what you did…changing the word to ‘freak.’ I could handle being a freak.”

“Then…why did you leave town?” I asked his feet.

“Because my parents couldn’t handle having a son who’s a freak,” he said with a laugh. And the next thing I knew, he was sitting on the bike rack next to me — though I was still careful not to look into his face. “They didn’t think it was good for me to be in Eastport. They wanted me to get a good education, not be worrying all the time about people spray-painting my name on buildings or beating me up. So they pulled out. It was probably the right thing for them to do. Who knows?”

I said, still unable to raise my gaze higher than his knees, “But then…why did you come back? Anddon’t say you can’t tell me. Because otherwise I’m going to know it’s to get revenge on me. Which you’ve managed to do, and pretty good. The whole town hates me now. Practically.”

“Nobody hates you,” Tommy said. Now there was laughter in his voice. “Except Seth, maybe.”

“Seth definitely hates me,” I said, thinking mournfully of Seth’s terse message, asking for his jacket back.

“Yeah, well, Seth always was an idiot,” Tommy said. “Just like his brother, he wants to blame everybody else for his own mistakes.”

“Iwas a jerk to him, though,” I admitted mournfully. “I was a pretty big jerk to you, too.”

“You weren’t a jerk,” Tommy said. “You were just freaked out. About starting high school with everyone hating you. I think it was natural to want to distance yourself from me.”

“Really?” I risked a glance at his face, trying to gauge the bitterness level.

But all I saw was his smile. Which made my heart lurch.

And of course, after that, I couldn’t look away.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “But you redeemed yourself last night. That was quite a speech.”

“Not really,” I said, chewing on my lower lip. Because I hadn’t been able to avoid noticing that, in the light from the afternoon sun, Tommy’s own lips looked particularly inviting.

What waswrong with me? Why didn’t my body seem to know that my brain had sworn off boys? For good?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Tommy said, bumping his shoulder against mine.

He meant it, I knew, as a friendly gesture. He didn’t do it to make electric shocks of desire go shooting through me.

But that’s exactly what happened.

Which is why I looked away from him, and said, “I’m taking a vacation from guys,” as fast as I could. Because I was reminding myself — as well as letting him know — that physical contact, even shoulder bumping, was off the menu.

“Really?” Tommydefinitely sounded amused now. I had to risk another glance at his face, just to see if he really was laughing at me.

He was.

And he still looked hot as ever.

My cheeks burning, I hunched my shoulders and looked away from him again.

“It’s not funny,” I said to the tops of my sneakers. “You were right. I need to learn to understand myself better — and, like you said,like myself better — before I get into any more romantic relationships. Telling the truth for a change is a start. But I have a long way to go.”

I decided against telling him about Phase Two of my plan…the convent and/or all-women’s college. Better to take it one day at a time at this point.

“That sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Tommy said.

My shoulders slumped a little. I don’t know why I was so disappointed in his response. I guess I hadn’t exactly thought he’d try to talk me out of it.

But I thought he’d at least have said something like,Too bad. I was about to ask you out.

But this is just an example of how much I really do need to take a vacation from boys.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, if it’ll cheer you up a little,” Tommy went on. “It’s about why I’m back in Eastport. Well, part of the reason. But it’s got to stay a secret till tomorrow morning. So you have to promise not to tell.”

“Okay,” I said, instantly curious.

He reached down and pulled up a backpack that had been sitting in the gravel near my bike. Unzipping it, he took out a newspaper. I recognized the standard for theGazette. It was the Sunday — tomorrow’s — edition.

“Turn to the sports section,” Tommy said.

I did. And was shocked by what I saw.

“That’s you!” I cried.

Because it was. There was a new column along the left-hand side of the page — the high school sports beat. And there, next to a byline that readTOM SULLIVAN, was Tommy’s picture.

“That’swhat you came back for?” I cried. “Because Mr. Gatch offered you the high school sports beat?”

“Well, partly,” Tommy said. “But you can see why I’m not too worried about those guys — what did you call it? Oh, yeah — having any kind of blanket party on me. I don’t think Coach Hayes — or anyone else, for that matter — would take too kindly to the Quahogs beating up the reporter who’s going to be covering their games all year.”

“Tommy,” I breathed, looking down at his photo. He looked totally great in it. Maybe I’d cut it out, and when I was living in the convent, I could look at Tommy’s photo and remember what it was like to be kissed by him. “This…this is really impressive. It really is. Mr. Gatch has never hired anyone as young as you before. I mean, to have their own column.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “It was a pretty strong incentive to come back, I’ll admit. My parents weren’t too thrilled about it, but when I explained how good it would look as part of my college applications, they finally agreed to let me give it a try.”

“Well,” I said. I handed the paper back to him reluctantly. “I, um. I guess I must have sounded really stupid, going on about thinking you were here because of…well. Me.”

“Notthat stupid,” Tommy admitted with a smile, as he stuck the paper back into his bag. “Because you were partly right.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot,” he said, ignoring my question. “I have something of yours.”

“Of mine? What?”

And he reached into the backpack again, and this time drew out something bulky, wrapped in a brown paper bag.

“What is it?” I asked, taking hold of it curiously. “What—”