Its a dumb idea, says Mirren. Were just bored out of our minds, thats all. But she slathers baby oil on her arms as shes speaking. I lie down next to Johnny. I open a bag of barbeque potato chips. I stare at Gats chest. Mirren reads aloud a bit of a book about Jane Goodall. We listen to some music o my iPhone, the speaker tinny. Why dont you believe in sunblock again? I ask Johnny. Its a conspiracy, he says. To sell a lot of lotion that nobody needs. Uh-huh. I wont burn, he says. Youll see. But why are you putting on baby oil? Oh, thats not part of the experiment, Johnny says. I just like to be as greasy as possible at all times. GAT CATCHES ME in the kitchen, looking for food. There isnt much. Last time I saw you was again suboptimal, he says. In the hallway a couple nights ago. Yeah. My hands are shaking. Sorry. All right. Can we start over? We cant start over every day, Gat. Why not? He jumps to sit on the counter. Maybe this is a

Second, sure. But after that it gets ridiculous. So just be normal, he says, at least for today. Lets pretend Im not a mess, lets pretend youre not angry. Lets act like were friends and forget what happened. I dont want to pretend. I dont want to be friends. I dont want to forget. I am trying to remember. Just for a day or two, until things start to seem all right again, says Gat, seeing my hesitation. Well just hang out until it all stops being such a big deal. I want to know everything, understand everything; I want to hold Gat close and run my hands over him and never let him go. But perhaps this is the only way we can start. Be normal, now. Right now. Because you are. Because you can be. Ive learned how to do that, I say. I hand him the bag of fudge Granddad and I bought in Edgartown, and the way his face lights up at the chocolate tugs at my heart. 44 NEXT DAY MIRREN and I take the small motorboat to Edgartown without permission.

The boys dont want to come. They are going kayaking. I drive and Mirren trails her hand in the wake. Mirren isnt wearing much: a daisy-print bikini top and a denim miniskirt. She walks down the cobblestone sidewalks of Edgartown talking about Drake Loggerhead and how it feels to have sexual intercourse with him. Thats what she calls it every time; her answer about how it feels has to do with the scent of beach roses mixed with roller coasters and reworks. She also talks about what clothes she wants to buy for freshman year at Pomona and movies she wants to see and projects she wants to do this summer, like nd a place on the Vineyard to ride horses and start making ice cream again. Honestly, she doesnt stop chattering for half an hour.

I wish I had her life. A boyfriend, plans, college in California. Mirren is going o into her sunshine future, whereas I am going back to Dickinson Academy to another year of snow and suocation. I buy a small bag of fudge at Murdicks, even though theres some left from yesterday. We sit on a shady bench, Mirren still talking. Another memory comes. SUMMER FIFTEEN, MIRREN sat next to Taft and Will on the steps of our favorite Edgartown clam shack. The boys had plastic rainbow pinwheels. Tafts face was smeared with fudge hed eaten earlier. We were waiting for Bess, because she had Mirrens shoes. We couldnt go indoors without them. Mirrens feet were dirty and her toenails painted blue. We had been waiting a while when Gat came out of the shop down the block. He had a stack of books under his arm. He ran toward us at top speed, as if in a ridiculous hurry to catch us, even though we were sitting still.