Ashes to Ashes
: Chapter 32

THE SUN IS SINKING LOWER AND LOWER IN THE sky. Even though I know it’s bad as shit for your eyes, I’ve got my sunglasses perched on the top of my head so I can stare straight into it. The orangey pinks of the rays, sizzling out across the slate sky, lighting up the turquoise water in electric-blue streaks. The colors are just too beautiful, and to look at them through some cheap-ass drugstore plastic lenses would be a straight-up travesty. Plus we set sail back to Jar Island tomorrow, and I want to hold on to every single minute.

Clearly I screwed up. Forget Oberlin. I should have applied to some random school in the Caribbean to study marine biology so I could see this sunset every damn day.

Everyone else is below getting ready for dinner. I’m in my black bikini, cross-legged on one of the white sunbathing beds on the main deck. It was starting to get cold, and my suit was still wet from this afternoon—when me and the guys were taking turns jumping off the bow. Luckily, one of the boat staff brought me out a drink and set a super-soft blanket over my shoulders.

I’ve done jack shit for the past few days besides swim and sun myself, and my legs are almost as brown as the whiskey in my glass. I have to keep reminding myself to sip it slowly, because it’s the smoothest, most quality shit in Uncle Tim’s bar, and it goes down dangerously easy. I fear I’ll never be able to drink cheap whiskey again.

Down on the deck below me, I hear the boat staff setting the dinner table for us, the clinking of glasses and silverware. We’ve eaten outside every single night, a gourmet meal with fresh seafood, on a big banquet table draped with white linen tablecloths. There’s a chef working all day for us, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and desserts, while we fuck around.

I thought it would take some getting used to, this kind of life. But it hasn’t. Like the whiskey, it’s going down really, really easy. And I’m kind of bummed that this is my one and only spring break trip.

“Yo, Kat. Look what we found!”

I turn my head and see PJ walking over in a button-up shirt and board shorts, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes. He’s holding a wooden box. Jonah, one of Alex’s chorus friends, comes up beside him and lifts the lid, like a game show hostess showing off a prize. Inside are neat stacks of brown cigars, each one encircled with an ornate gold foil band.

I stand up and pull on my cutoffs. “Holy shit. Are you serious? Another box of Cubans?” I haven’t smoked a cigarette for three weeks now, but I’ve made a spring break exception for a Cuban. Several spring break exceptions.

“Uncle Tim must have just come back from Havana,” Derek says. He takes out two, cuts the tips with a silver clip monogrammed with Uncle Tim’s initials, and passes around a lighter. “Yo, Al! You want one too, right?”

Alex comes up from the kitchen, followed by one of the hired boat staff carrying a tray in his hands loaded with four tumblers of whiskey and perfect square ice cubes. I quickly drain the glass I’m holding and then trade my empty for a fresh one.

“The chef is making some sick crab cakes! Should be ready in an hour, guys,” he announces. After taking a few big gulps of his whiskey, he says to us, “What do you say we never go back?”

Though he’s smiling, I know there’s truth behind those words. This has been an escape for Alex, to not have to see Reeve and Lillia together.

In a way it’s been an escape for me, too.

Right after we set sail, I regretted saying yes. First off, sailing on any boat when Judy Blue Eyes is gone depressed the shit out of me. And, as I expected, it was awkward on board for the first few days. We were definitely divided along class lines. Alex’s chorus friends mostly hung out up on the deck, while the rest of us were in the lounge. Jonah spent the whole first night shuffling his magic cards, and Ivan didn’t do much but stare down at his bongos and pat them quietly. Brianna, the girl who did the Christmas duet with Alex, has followed him around like a lovesick puppy. It was basically my worst fears come true.

But things took a turn when the captain found us a cove between some tiny sand islands, and the water was warm like a bath. Everyone took turns jumping off the bow into the water, even Ashlin, which impressed the shit out of me.

That was really all it took for us to be cool with each other. That night everyone hung out on the deck together. Ivan played his bongos, and PJ and Derek made up a rap, which was pretty decent for a freestyle and had me laughing my ass off. Ashlin had Brianna putting braids in her hair. And Alex, bless his heart, kept sitting between me and Jonah, because dude had his eyes on my boobs, like, 24/7.

All in all, not a bad time. In fact, it’s been pretty great.

So my escape? I’m always so quick to shit on things . . . people, experiences, different points of view. I get it set in my head that things are a certain way, and then I shut out anything that might contradict that perception. Except I couldn’t pull that shit on this boat, and I’m better for it.

I go downstairs to shower and change for dinner. Ashlin is in the room, getting into this flowy caftan thing, and Brianna has on a 1950s housedress. I don’t have anything dressy to wear for our last meal, so I put on my black tank dress. I should seriously get new clothes before I head to Oberlin. I mean, if I get in. That acceptance letter better be waiting for me when I get home.

Ashlin comes up behind me with a scarf. It’s got a cool trippy pattern on it. She ties it around my head like I’m some kind of seventies rock star.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You should totally wear a look like this to prom! Something vintage.”

Prom. See? Another one of those things that I’ve shit on. Why shouldn’t I go to prom? I’m a freaking senior, after all.

Ash looks over at Brianna. “Did you buy your dress yet?”

“Um, not yet,” Brianna says. “I’m not sure if I’m going.”

“That’s crazy! You have to go.”

“I’m in this show at the regional playhouse, and I had to buy my own costume. So I doubt I’ll have the money.”

“Oh,” Ash says, and I can tell she feels like a dummy. “Well, that stinks.”

“It’s no big deal,” Brianna says, lowering her eyes.

“Wait,” I say. “Prom tickets are that expensive?” If they are, I probably can’t go either.

“They are this year,” Brianna explains. “It’s going to be at some club in Boston.”

“That’s a dumb idea.” I turn and look at Ash. “Who’s making these bonehead decisions?”

Ash points her finger at me. “Don’t even. You have no right to complain. If you care, then come to a prom committee meeting. Don’t just bitch about it.”

Damn. Ash has some fire in her. “Okay, okay. Down, girl.” I smile at her, and she smiles back.

It’s crazy, the things that have happened this year. How much I’ve changed. How everything that I thought was set in stone isn’t. It makes me excited for the future and all its possibilities. Anything can happen.

Suddenly I have the overwhelming urge to talk to Mary. I want to tell her how much better life gets, if you give it a chance. I want to tell her to let go of the Reeve drama once and for all. I want to tell her that I miss her.