Down the Shore Read Online Free PDF

floor had been transformed into a food court by a late-night supper. The heat lamps at the carving stations cast an orange glow on the walls, crepes soaked in brandy simmered over blue flames. I tried to read the expressions of the servers, to imagine what was going through their minds. I knew what my mother would say after a gig like this.
    The adults said their good-byes a little after 10:00 p.m. I caught a glimpse of the owners as they departed to a standing ovation from the drunk teenagers occupying their home. They were crashing at a nearby bed-and-breakfast, someone said, leaving the kids to their own devices for the night. Something or someone had spooked Clare. He kept glancing over his shoulder as we stood in line for steak sandwiches, repositioning, using me as a screen. The trouble his father was in had changed him and dissolved the unassailable quality I had seen in him at Lawrenceville. I remembered a line from my mom’s favorite song by the Band: “And now the heart is filled with gold, as if it was a purse.” Maybe that’s what money did—filled you up and hardened you. I understood it in the negative now that I could see what was absent in Clare. I was staring at his profile when I realized that the man carving the meat was talking to me.
    â€œYou’re Diane Alison’s son, right?”
    â€œYeah,” I said, blood rising to my cheeks.
    â€œWe used to work Princeton reunions together. I’m down in Manasquan now. You don’t remember me?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “Sorry.”
    â€œNight off, huh? What can I get you?”
    â€œI’m OK,” I said.
    â€œHey, if your mom needs help this year, tell her to call me. You sure you don’t want something?”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “I’m fine.”
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    I found a half-full bottle of Sancerre on the kitchen counter, and tipped half of what was left into my mouth, the wine colder than I expected, like the mouth of a girl coming back to bed after a glass of water. Kelsey had texted Clare earlier to say that she was on the beach with friends. I floated around the house until I found her out on the gazebo-shaped balcony, sharing a cigarette with a boy in a Columbia Football sweatshirt, which stung a little. I stood a few feet from the door, trying to take the temperature of their conversation, shifting right and left so that my reflection in the glass blocked as little of her as possible. I was moving enough that she noticed me, and motioned for me to join them. The boy thanked her for the smoke and slipped inside as I went out.
    â€œYou know Spring Lake,” she said.
    â€œI surf here sometimes. There, actually. Right across the street.”
    â€œBut you’re not from here.”
    â€œI grew up on Long Beach Island.”
    â€œI was about to say you remind me of the boys I grew up with, but I guess that makes sense. I’m from Ocean City. My parents live two towns over now, in Avalon. I can’t believe this moon.”
    It was almost full, its light bright enough to read by, the water underneath it glinting like mirror shards. It looked like someone had taken a bat to a disco ball, and I said that before I had a chance to stop myself. Kelsey laughed.
    â€œYou have kind of a poetic side, don’t you?”
    â€œNo,” I said, afraid that it would make me seem less serious to her. “I’m just high.”
    â€œWe should find a place to crash unless you’re driving back to Princeton, which I wouldn’t advise based on those pupils.”
    I stared at her, wondering if this was the onset of auditory hallucinations, or if the thing I had been hoping for was now coming to pass.
    â€œYou’re funny,” she said.
    â€œFunny how?”
    â€œAll starry-eyed. Are you seeing six of me right now?”
    â€œI’m not that high,” I said. “I bet I can find us a room.”
    We knocked on door