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stairs of the front porch. I froze at the sound, as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. Then I waited, perfectly still, for a knock at the front door.

THREE

    I t was a loud, uneven rap. I waited to see if someone else was going to answer it, but silence resonated through the house. A moment passed, and then another knock came, this one beating out a rhythm on the wooden panel of the door.
    I cursed quietly and shoved my yellow notebook back under my bed. The door to my parents’ room was closed; I pictured my mother in there, as she’d been so often lately, flat on her back on her bed, a pillow covering her face.
    I half ran down the steps, wanting to get to the door before whoever it was knocked a third time. Twisting the brass handle and yanking open the door, I caught Andy, knuckles raised, about to rap the door again.
    He grinned his friendly lopsided smile that used to thrill me and drawled, “Hey, there, Scarlett.”
    “Andy.” I remembered my manners and twisted my mouth into a fairly good imitation of a smile.
    “Hey,” he said again, craning his neck past me to look into the house. “Can I come in?”
    “Umm … sure.” I pulled the door open and gestured for Andy to come inside. As he passed me, his arm snaked around my waist and I felt his breath against my ear.
    “Mmm,” he whispered. “You smell good.”
    My stomach tightened. “It’s the shampoo,” I muttered.
    “I don’t think so,” he said, his lips inches from my ear, his breath warm and moist. “I think it’s just Scarlett.”
    I twisted away to close the door, turning my face so that I could arrange my expression. When I spun back around, Andy was sauntering into the main kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator with easy familiarity.
    “Always hungry,” I chided, following him into the kitchen.
    “Gotta bulk up for the season.” He grabbed an apple from the crisper and then took a bite, his strong, white teeth cutting into the apple’s flesh.
    He took a chair from the kitchen table and spun it around, then sat, his arms crossed against the chair’s back. His eyes traveled over me, appraising me frankly.
    “You look good, Scarlett. Are you feeling … better?”
    I looked away. “Mmm-hmm,” I said. I traced the lines of the tile floor with the toe of my shoe. “It’s getting a little easier, I guess.”
    Andy took another bite. “I’m glad,” he said. “We’ve missed you, Scarlett. I’ve missed you.”
    When I looked up, Andy’s blue eyes were earnest. I admired his tanned arms, the hair on them as golden as if it had been woven by Rumpelstiltskin. He looked like he’dbeen lifting weights; his broad shoulders were more muscled, and his neck was maybe a size bigger too. His hair was shorter than it had been the last time I’d seen him, out at the stable … it wasn’t quite a military cut, but the sides and back were cut close, and a sweep of hair in the front was brushed upward.
    My appraisal must have been obvious, because Andy asked, “You like what you see?” in between bites.
    “Yes,” I answered, feeling bold, and when I met his eyes I was relieved to find that it felt almost normal.
    There was that grin again, and this time, when I returned his smile, it felt natural.
    “That’s my girl,” he said, standing, the feet of the chair scraping across the tile floor as he spun it back around and pushed it into place. I noticed he was wearing a button-down shirt with a collar, light blue to go with his eyes, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. “So what do you say?” he asked. “Come with me to the mini-golf? I know it’s your favorite,” he teased.
    I hesitated. I’d planned on going anyway, but showing up with Andy felt awfully like a date. I knew that was how the other kids would see it, and news travels fast in a school with only two hundred students. By Monday, Andy and I would be practically engaged according to the island rumor mill.
    Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The