Page 9 of A Not-So Holiday Paradise
“Don’t—I’m not—yourfather,” he finally gets out, speaking to Wes. Wes just cackles again.
“I’m not sure about that,” I say with an innocent shrug. “All this sun seems to be making you crotchety.”
“You two are incorrigible,” Beckett says, pointing between Wes and me. Then his gaze turns to my parents. “Where did you find them, Mrs. O’Malley? What dumpster did you dig your children out of?”
“I know,” she says with a sigh while my dad laughs. “They’re hooligans.”
“The hooligans should get moving, yeah?” I say, looking at Beckett. “We want to make good progress before we hit the hottest part of the day.”
Beckett nods, but he doesn’t look at me.
And all at once, it hits me—what’s so strange about how he’s acting. I’ve been trying to put my finger on what seems off, and watching Beckett’s eyes dart away from me, I’ve finally got it.
If he didn’t pay attention to me at all, that would be sad, but it wouldn’t be weird. Whatisweird is that he tries to make itseemlike he’s looking at me—when really he isn’t. Instead of meeting my gaze, he looks at my forehead. When he’s looking in my direction, his eyes are aimed just over my shoulder.
He’s actively avoiding me but trying to be subtle about it. That’s the only conclusion I can draw from the evidence I’ve observed. What’s up with that? It’s odd, isn’t it? Especially since he’spretendingto pay attention to me? That’s weird, right?
It feels weird.
It also feels like a challenge.
I set my jaw stubbornly. It’s not like I’m asking him to marry me. He should at least be friendly, though. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it? It’s not an unreasonable request that he treat me like he’s treating the rest of my family? I meant what I said—this trip isn’t about winning him over. I know that’s not going to happen. But I’m getting the sense that he’s already made up his mind about how he wants to treat me, without giving me a chance to change his mind.
That…doesn’t sit well with me. If you’re going to write me off, do itafteryou’ve gotten to know me and decided I’m not your cup of tea. Because I might be a delicious cup of your very favorite tea, for all you know. So don’t justassumethat I’m not worth knowing.
As Beckett brushes past me, giving me an awkwardly wide berth, I roll my eyes. Then I turn and follow him, along with the rest of my family, my mind churning with thoughts and ideas and snippets of plans.
My breath escapes me, though, as we step into the lush forest. The trees are thick and green, the air heavy on my skin and in my lungs. I’m grateful that my hair is up off my neck, although I can’t help but think that that bun on top of my head is going to make a prime nesting area for any little buggy critters that fall out of the foliage above.
The five of us follow the narrow trail, Beckett in the lead with the rest of us trailing behind. I can hear my mom and dad talking, but they’ve lowered their voices enough that I can’t understand what they’re saying. I understand the impulse to whisper; there’s something about a forest that feels sacred. It’s teeming with life but suspended in time, a coming-together of old and new—a baby bird chirping in its nest, tucked safely into the lush greenery of an ancient tree.
It’s too humid for the dirt beneath our feet to kick up in puffs of dust, but my sandals are still gritty with sweat and sand. Despite the shade there are little pockets of perspiration all over my body—behind my knees, in the creases of my elbows, in between my toes—and the worst, under-boob sweat.
“Ooh,” I say as we pass a vine-like plant with white and yellow trumpet-shaped blooms. I stop, leaning in to look closer. “Pretty. Beckett?”
He slows down, turning to face me, and lifts his eyebrows.
“Can I pick this?” I say, pointing to one of the flowers.
I get one short nod in response before he’s turned away again. That’s as good as I’m going to get, I guess, but I’ll take it for now. I pluck the flower carefully off of its stem, inhaling deeply and then tucking it behind my ear with gentle fingers. I smile once it’s in place, hurrying along to resume my place on the path. Beckett and Wes are in front of me, carrying on their own conversation, and my parents are behind me,theiroohs andahhs punctuating the air every now and then.
The trail has been widening gradually as we walk, and after a couple more minutes we emerge onto a dirt road, just wide enough to fit one car. The sun is once again beating down on us, hotter than I expected it to feel. It’s the humidity, I think; like a big, damp, sunny blanket.
I find my eyes glued to the back of Beckett’s head as we tromp along. It’s stupid how good-looking he is from behind. It’s also stupid how quickly our chance to reconnect is slipping away. But the man will barely evenlookat me—so what does a girl have to do to get a decent conversation around here?
I’m going to get one, I decide as I narrow my eyes in the vicinity of his shoulder blades. I’m going to get him to have a conversation with me. If that’s all I can accomplish today, then so be it—but by the time we leave the Virgin Islands, I will be able to call Beckett Donovan a friend.
Four
Beckett
“Unfortunately we can’t go inside,”I say. “Not everything is up to code yet, and I don’t have all the keys anyway.”
The five of us are standing at the bottom of the drive, looking up at the fruit of my labors for the last eight months. I raise my arm, and the O’Malleys look as one in the direction I’m pointing. “But you can see the dome up there; that’s where the telescope is. And then the rest of this”—I gesture to the remaining stretch of building—“will be lab space and a small dormitory.”
It’s not a particularly pretty building. Rather it’s utilitarian; built to last and to remain functional, so that students and researchers will be able to work here for years to come. Part of our goal was to use as little space as possible so we could minimize the effect on the land; we wanted to leave as much natural growth undisturbed as we could. The trees and wildlife crowd the facility on all sides, greenery bleeding into the red brick.
“Oh, neat!” Mrs. O’Malley says. One hand is shading her eyes as she takes the building in. “How many students will be able to stay there?”
