“Thank you, Dosinia,” I say sincerely. “I cannot imagine a more perfect gift.”
She rol s her eyes and shrugs, as if my compliment means nothing. I can tel she’s proud of herself. Besides, with her powers revoked, she can’t flash-freeze sand dol ars anymore. She either planned this ahead of time or asked for help.
The girl may pretend like she doesn’t care about anyone but herself, but she’s proving that’s not true. In more ways than one.
Brody hands down an envelope. “Now mine.” I rip open the top of the plain brown envelope, curious as to what kind of present might be in here. When I pul out a sheet of paper and read the contents, I realize what his gift is.
“No way,” I say, rereading the letter. “Are you serious?”
“As Olympic gold.”
“What?” Shannen asks.
Aunt Rachel asks, “What is it?”
I clear my throat and read the letter. “Dear Teachers. The fol owing students wil be absent from class on Thursday and Friday to attend the boys’ state swimming championships:
Brody
Bennett,
Kevin
Velasquez,
Raymond Flynn, and team manager Lily Sanderson.
Please gather their homework assignments so they may complete them on time. If you have any questions, please cal my office. Coach Hil .”
“I don’t get it,” Shannen says.
Doe asks, “What’s the gift?”
So excited I might just burst, my gaze meets Brody’s across the table. “I get to go to State.” The silence around the table seems to say, “And… ?”
“Managers never get to go to State,” I explain, “since it’s usual y just the coach and a couple of swimmers. This is”—I shake my head at Brody—“awesome. Thank you.” In my three years as swim team manager, it’s always been a bittersweet end to the season—having to hang up my record book while a handful of swimmers got to travel to Orlando for the state meet. It’s awesome that, as a senior, I’l get to go, too.
Brody just earned triple points. Not only for getting me the letter, but also for knowing how much it would mean to me.
Maybe he wasn’t quite as self-absorbed as I thought.
Maybe this gift-getting thing is worth the torture after al .
I look around expectantly, wondering whose gift wil wow me next.
Without saying a word, Quince pul s a smal box from the inside pocket of his jacket. He slides it across the red tablecloth.
My eyes meet his as I pick up the box and pul off the red ribbon. It feels like we haven’t had much time together as boyfriend-girlfriend since I came back, but the look in his eyes is al I need to see the promise of a long future between us.
I absently lift off the lid and reach inside. My fingers curl around a cold metal object.
Glancing down, I find a starfish-shaped silver key ring.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
He leans close. “Turn it over.”
On the back, inscribed in a delicately curving script, are the words Forever, princess. I love you.
Tears instantly fil my eyes.
“I love you, too,” I mouth.
“What?” Shannen demands, reaching across the table to take the starfish. When she reads the inscription, she’s struck speechless.
The key ring makes the rounds of the table, eliciting shrugs from the boys and sighs from the girls. When it makes its way back to my palm, I clutch it close to my heart.
“Thank you,” I say, though words can’t entirely express what I’m feeling.
“After that,” Aunt Rachel announces, “it seems apropos to give you my gift next.”
She lifts the flecked purple package off the table and hands it to me.
Her eyes are wide with pride and expectation as I peel off the wrapping. It’s quite a smal box with hardly any weight to it. Maybe it’s a gift card? I could use a trip to the mal for some summer beach staples. Flip-flops, bikinis, tank tops.
I’m always up for a shopping spree.
But when I pul the lid off the box, it is not a gift card resting on the tie-dye pink-and-purple tissue. It’s a key.
I don’t get it. I already have a key to the house, both front and back doors. There aren’t any other locks in my life, except for the combination on my locker at school. No key required.
And it’s not exactly shaped like a house key.
“What’s it for?” I ask.
Quince smiles, taking the key and inspecting it like he’s never seen it before, but I get the feeling he has. “A Toyota Corol a, if I had to guess.”
Aunt Rachel nods.
“A car?” I gasp.
“Your father and I agreed,” she says, “that you wil need your own transportation once you begin col ege.” If I begin col ege, I almost say. The pressure of tomorrow’s SATs is enough to make me think I’l never get accepted.
But today is a celebration, and I refuse to dwel on the negative. And besides… I have a car!
“A car! It’s an amazing gift, Aunt Rachel,” I say. I wrap her in a tight hug. “I just hope I can learn how to drive.”
“I’l teach you,” Quince says.
I raise my brows. “Just like you’re teaching me to ride Princess?”
When I came back to Seaview, he promised to teach me to ride his motorcycle. Let’s just say that the couple lessons we’ve had have ended roughly. No blood, but a few scratches—on both me and Princess. One more trip into the garbage cans, and Quince wil rescind his promise to teach me.