The House Above the Sea

29.

When Joey steps out of the school gym that afternoon, the sweat and rubber odors traded suddenly for a cool sweep of sea salt-scented air, he finds Elsie in a vibrant yellow dress, sitting at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for him.

For a moment he stops, trying to remember what he might have said or done to piss her off. Because surely that would be the only reason she'd come here—to yell at him for something. Right?

Joey's broken from his reverie by a flurry of hoots and whistles from behind him. He jolts as Zach, the point guard, loops an arm around his shoulder. "That your girl over there?" A cackle. "Didn't know you were a chubby chaser, Irvine. Was Abigail too bony for you?"

"You know what? Fuck you, Zach." Joey flings Zach's arm off of him, hiking the strap of his sports bag further up his shoulder and marching across the lot. He keeps walking, not looking back, until the team's laughter is faint, faint background noise and Elsie is less than a foot away.

She's leaned against the hood of her Volkswagen Beetle, a perfect pastel artwork: pale blue metal, canary yellow dress, baby pink cheeks. "Irvine."

Joey's mind is a maelstrom of thoughts. Is he standing too close? Too far? Does he smell bad? God, he probably smells awful. What is he doing? What is she doing?

He clears his throat. "Elsie."

"Don't be weird," she says, but there's a quiet smile on her face that makes Joey's heart beat irregularly in his chest. She holds out a fist, slowly unfurling her fingers to reveal a crumple of dollar bills. "The other day when we went to see Maeve, you bought me coffee. So I'm paying you back."

Joey shakes his head. "I told you you didn't have to."

"But I want to. I don't like owing people things."

"Elsie," Joey says, closing his hand over hers. Both of them go very still for a moment, though Joey is internally screaming. Her skin is so soft. He doesn't want to let go. "You don't have to make up excuses to come see me, you know."

Elsie yanks her hand back almost violently. Joey exhales. "That's not what this is!" she snaps. "I—that's not what this is, Joey, I just—"

Joey turns, glimpsing the gym's back door over his shoulder. Zach and the other teammates are still lingering around the brick wall like a ragtag crew of gangsters, watching them. Joey can't see their faces, can't hear their words, but he's glad for it.

He whirls, facing Elsie. "Wanna go somewhere?"

Her eyes go round with shock. "What?"

"I don't know. I'm just sorta thinking that I don't wanna be here anymore. That I wanna go somewhere. With you. If that's okay. I mean, if you want to."

"If I want to?"

"Yeah."

For an awful moment Elsie is so quiet that Joey worries he's said the wrong thing. Oh no, he thinks. She's pissed at me, isn't she? If she wasn't before she must be now.

But then she grins, and it does something to her face—a beautiful metamorphosis like the bloom of a flower in the springtime. It softens her features, brings a glow to her skin, and Joey thinks that if he wasn't doomed before, he certainly is now.

The Beetle chirps unlocked.

"So, Troy Bolton," Elsie says, raising a playful eyebrow at him. "Have you ever driven a punch buggy before?"

No, he hasn't. But the good news is it's not all that different from driving his dad's truck.