“Vanessa doesn’t date military guys,” I finally admit once Annie abandons the broom and slips outside to take a phone call. “And as much as I love her, I don’t think I could give up the coast guard for her.”
“Youdolove her. I knew it,” Mom says, her smiling beaming.
“I think you missed the part about her not dating military guys.”
“Have you asked her why?”
“Not…exactly.”
“Then maybe you should start there.”
I finish helping Mom clean up—Annie’s still on the phone, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit worried about her pacing back and forth. She’s not the type to ask for help if she needs it. She’s convinced she can handle everything on her own. I’m about to ask Mom when she shoves a container of clam chowder against my chest.
“Saved you some,” she says.
My rumbling stomach reminds me I forgot to actually eat dinner when we were atThe Icebergearlier. “Thanks.”
“Jasper?” she says as I move to leave.
“Yeah?”
“I like her. Don’t mess this up.”
“No pressure,” I mumble, exiting the food truck and searching for my sister.
I find Annie sitting on a riser a couple dozen yards away. I move in her direction, but she waves me off. Warning me not to come closer. A protective instinct comes over me. I go to her despite her objections, and the phone call mysteriously ends before I can reach her.
She’s not crying.
Good.
But she looks pissed.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“What do you think?” she snaps, then immediately apologizes. “Men are stupid.”
“Boysare stupid,” I correct.
“If it has a penis, it’s dumb.”
I cringe at my sister sayingpenis. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Everything’s closed.”
“I think the snow cone vendor might still be open.”
“What are we five?”
I shrug. “If you don’t want a snow cone?—”
“I didn’t say that.” She pushes up off the riser and chases after me. “You don’t have to walk like you’re hunting someone down, you know.”
“I want to put this clam chowder in my truck so no one steals it.”
“That’s fair.”
Before I can reach the parking lot, I hear someone call out my name. “Jasper, hey!” I turn to see Tommy Clausen flagging me down from a shed. Mr. Clausen—my second grade teacher, now retired—is one of the many volunteers on janitorial duty this week.
