Her Name In The Sky Part 10

"I think Joanie has everything and then some," Hannah says, watching Joanie struggle to zip up her bag.

"And I think Hannah has such a great sense of humor," Joanie pants.

"Did you print out directions?" their mom asks. "You know where you're going?"

"We'll use our phones, Mom."

"Okay. Well, be safe. Call me when you get there. Use your manners and make sure you help Mrs. Landry with everything. And no drinking."

"We know, Mom," Hannah and Joanie say in unison.

"Drive carefully, Baker."

"I will, Mrs. Eaden."

"And if these two start fighting, just give me a call."

"I will," Baker laughs.

They all hug Hannah's mom goodbye, and she gives them the look and tells them to behave, and then they're in the car and on their way to meet the boys, and Hannah feels the promise of spring break growing in her belly.

"Adventure," she says, turning to grin at Baker.

Baker keeps her eyes focused on the road, but her mouth curves into a smile. "Adventure."

"I think we're Destined for greatness this break," Hannah says.

"I think you're right," Baker says.

"I hate both of you," Joanie says, and they all laugh.

They pick up Luke from his mom's house-she kisses him goodbye and waves at them from the porch, still wearing her bathrobe-and then drive to the Landry's to meet Clay, Wally, and Clay's parents. They park in the driveway behind Clay's dad's Audi.

"Hold on," Baker says, grabbing Hannah's arm to stop her from getting out of the car. "He wanted us to text him first."

"Why?"

"He wants to stash his alcohol in here before his parents come out."

"Genius," Joanie says.

Clay takes forever to come outside. Hannah, Baker, Joanie, and Luke sit in the car, their windows rolled down and their legs pulled up on their seats, swapping guesses about what's taking him so long.

"He's p.o.o.ping," Joanie says.

"Stop projecting, Joanie," Hannah says.

"He probably lost his wallet again," Baker says. "But we're being rude just sitting here. We need to go in and say hi to his parents."

"I'm texting him again," Hannah says.

Clay walks out of the house a minute later, small duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and winning smile on his face.

"That's it?" Joanie says. "Look at the size of that bag. There's no way he fit all the alcohol in there. What's he bringing, those d.i.n.ky little sample sizes of Firefly?"

Baker hangs her arm out the window as Clay strides up to the car. "Feel like going to Destin?" she asks.

"Absolutely," Clay says, his voice loud and rumbling. "Sorry I took so long. My mom made sausages."

"Where's the stash?" Joanie says, leaning forward from the backseat to address him.

"I have to go around to the backyard to get it. Hold on."

He disappears around the back of the house, then returns a few minutes later with a navy blue booksack in hand, Wally at his side this time. Clay waggles his eyebrows and gestures at the bag. Wally walks with his hands in his pockets, squinting behind his gla.s.ses. Hannah, Baker, Joanie, and Luke get out of the car and meet them on the driveway.

"This better?" Clay asks, opening up the booksack for them to see. Inside, Hannah can see two handles of whiskey and a fifth of vodka.

"Much better," Joanie says.

"We'll have to be careful," Baker says, "with your parents around and everything."

"We'll keep it hidden in our room," Clay says, gesturing to Wally and Luke. "Don't worry."

They stow the booksack in Baker's car, right in the middle of Luke and Joanie's seats ("It's like our baby," Joanie says; "Our beautiful, boozy baby," Luke says), and then head into the house to help Clay's parents bring their things out to the car. Mrs. Landry greets them warmly, pulling each of them into a hug, and says, "Look at this beautiful day-can it get any better?"

After the Landry's car is packed, their phones are set with the Destin address, and Clay has doubled back inside to use the bathroom, their caravan of cars reverses out of the Landry's driveway and heads toward the interstate. Hannah settles into the pa.s.senger seat, tucking her legs up underneath her, watching Clay and Wally's heads bob against the seats of Dr. Landry's car in front of them.

They cruise down I-12 East, laughing and joking and arguing over the music. Joanie convinces Baker to lower the windows so they can "appreciate the rush of the oncoming air and how it makes our hair blow in the wind like models." And then for a while they all sit quietly, subdued by the music and the stretch of the bright sun. Hannah picks up Baker's iPhone, connected to the stereo through the auxiliary jack, and scrolls through the playlists until she finds the one she wants-the one she discovered by accident a few months ago, and which made Baker blush and steal the phone back.

Songs han loves.

She plays Coldplay's "Strawberry Swing" and leans back against the leather seat, letting the sound and lyrics wash over her. No one says anything-they all sink into the song with willing submission-but Baker turns the stereo volume up, and Hannah glances over at her, at the way she looks behind the steering wheel, sunlight on her neck and shoulders, dark hair spilling over her cotton tank top.

"Perfect song," Baker says, her voice soft in the way it is when her mind is far away.

Hannah doesn't respond for a long beat. The lingering notes of the song echo in her head, until she blinks hard against the sunlight and s.h.i.+fts in her seat.

"Truth," she says, and scrolls through the playlist to find another song.

Their rental house is four stories tall, narrow, stucco, with windows that look out over the wrap-around balcony. Baker parks on the driveway behind Dr. Landry, and the four of them step out of the car and stretch in the sunlight, mimicking Clay, Wally, and the Landry's as they stare up at the house. Hannah can smell and taste the salt.w.a.ter air all around them.

"Alright," Clay says, with quiet satisfaction. "This is definitely where I wanna be right now."

"It's a beautiful house," Baker says.

"Well come on," Dr. Landry says, climbing the stairs to the second-story entryway. "Let's have a look around."

The eight of them tour the house together, Hannah and her friends trailing the Landry's through the kitchen, the hallway, the bas.e.m.e.nt bedroom, and the pool area. Clay tugs off his t-s.h.i.+rt and Sperry's and jumps into the pool right then and there, splas.h.i.+ng them all with water.

"Clay-!" his mother starts.

"Come on!" Clay calls to Luke and Wally. "We don't need to see the upstairs anyway, we're not sleeping up there."

Wally looks to Mrs. Landry. She rubs a hand down her face and rolls her eyes. "Go ahead, Wally, Luke," she says. "You're on vacation, anyway."

They leave the boys in the pool and tour the upstairs. "This must be the master," Dr. Landry says, circling around a bedroom on the third floor. "Nellie, I'll get our things and bring them up here."

"Okay," Mrs. Landry says, popping her lips, "and let's see the other bedrooms-"

She leads them into a room across the hall from the master bedroom. It has a queen-sized bed and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom.

"Oh my G.o.d," Joanie says, eyeing the Jacuzzi. "I have to sleep in here."

Mrs. Landry laughs as she crosses the room to open the curtains. "So does that mean Baker and Hannah want to take the fourth-floor bedroom? Or do you want to share with your sister, Hannah?"

Joanie spins away from the group and heads into the bathroom, her eyes on the hot tub, unconcerned with Hannah's answer. Hannah looks to Baker before she can help it, realizing too late that she is asking a question with her eyes. Baker meets Hannah's eyes for only the sharpest second before she looks away.

In the time it takes her to inhale, Hannah knows an infinite moment of turmoil as her mind wrestles with her heart.

"I'll go upstairs," she says.

"Great," Mrs. Landry says. "Let's go on up and see it."

Hannah and Baker follow Mrs. Landry up the stairs to the very top floor, where they find a small landing with a white door leading off of it. Mrs. Landry nudges the door open with a light touch of her fingers to the wood, murmuring "Let's see" under her breath.

This room is smaller than any of the others in the house. The walls are sea green, with a paper border of seash.e.l.ls cresting along the top. There are two rectangular windows with pearl-colored, airy curtains that transform the bright sunlight streaming through them into something gentler, less powerful, so that it coats the room in a tempered glow. Hannah notes a dresser, a white wicker rocking chair, and, to the right of the door, a queen-sized bed with a seash.e.l.l pink comforter. To her left, she sees a small bathroom.

"Oh, this is so cute," Mrs. Landry says, stepping toward the windows and parting the curtains. "I think you two got the best room in the house!"

"It's perfect," Baker says, her eyes s.h.i.+ning as she surveys the room.

"It is," Hannah agrees.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair so you can unpack and get changed," Mrs. Landry says, crossing the room with a pleased smile on her face. "I'm going to make some sandwiches for y'all to take to the beach. Turkey okay?"

Hannah flops back on the bed after Mrs. Landry leaves. She stretches her arms above her head and listens as Baker unzips her tote bag and pulls items from within.

"You unpacking already?" Hannah asks, her eyes on the ceiling.

"If I don't do it now, you know I'll stress on the beach."

"True. Hey, did you bring toothpaste? I forgot mine."

Baker laughs softly. "Yeah. I brought every toiletry I could think of because I knew you'd forget something."

Hannah sits up on the bed, a smile already on her face. "What? I never forget anything."

"Freshman retreat, your deodorant. Soph.o.m.ore summer-at the lake-your razor. And remember skiing with my family last year? You forgot your toothbrush and Nate had to go buy you one?"

"Fine," Hannah laughs. "You're right. As usual."

"I know," Baker says, a smirk on her face as she holds up her toothpaste. "Okay, let's get changed and head downstairs. We should help Clay's mom with those sandwiches."

They pull their swimsuits out of their bags, and now the energy in the room changes from giddy to awkward. They haven't thought about this part-about how to change in front of each other after what happened on Mardi Gras. Hannah digs further into her bag, pretending to search for something else, buying time to figure out what to do. But then Baker stands up and heads into the bathroom, swinging the door after her so that it doesn't fully shut, but doesn't remain open, either. And Hannah understands, as she hears the rustle of Baker's clothes falling to the floor, that she is supposed to change out here, in the bedroom, in her own s.p.a.ce.

"Are you finished?" Baker calls through the bathroom door.

Hannah finishes tying the top of her turquoise two-piece. "Yeah, I'm good."

She merely glances at Baker when she comes out of the bathroom: a glance just long enough to see that she is wearing her favorite red bikini. "All set?" Hannah asks, just for the sake of making conversation, just to keep herself focused on something other than Baker's toned olive skin.

"Yeah. Are you bringing anything?"

"Couple of books."

Baker's eyes land on Hannah's skin for a lightning-quick second. "Yeah. Good idea."

The beach sand is hot under Hannah's feet as she and her friends saunter down toward the water, their towels slung over their shoulders, Baker and Joanie carrying beach bags, Clay carrying a food cooler.

"Feel that sun," Clay says, arching his neck skyward. "So awesome."

"Good thing we brought SPF 50," Joanie says, "or Hannah and I would fry like b.i.t.c.hes."

"Joanie, what does that even mean, 'fry like b.i.t.c.hes'?" Hannah says.

"You know what I mean. Don't ask me to explain my genius mind to you."

They drop their towels and bags on a patch of hot, smooth sand about twenty feet from the water, and without further ado, Clay, Wally, and Luke sprint down to the ocean, shouting and waving their arms as they go. Hannah, Baker, and Joanie spread out their towels and survey the beach to see who else might be here, but they don't recognize anyone from St. Mary's.

"Okay," Joanie says, pulling twin bottles of sunscreen from her bag and tossing one to Hannah, "let the sunscreen process begin."

"Should I time this?" Baker says.

"You should probably put some on," Hannah tells her. "Remember last summer? How burnt your shoulders got?"

"I know, Mom," Baker says, smiling as she crouches by her bag. "But I'm not using your bottle. I brought SPF 30. I want to get some color." She pulls a bright orange bottle from her bag, then lifts her tank top over her head. Hannah stares pointedly at the floral pattern on her beach towel.

"The boys are gonna burn," Baker says, squinting toward the ocean as she rubs white lotion all over her upper arms.

"Wally will make them come back in a minute," Hannah says. "You know he will."

"Here," Baker says, watching Hannah struggle to apply her sunscreen. "Let me get your back."

She spins Hannah away from her, and after a long second, Hannah feels the startling cold of sunscreen lotion on her skin. Then Baker's hands are there, warm and soothing, rubbing over her shoulders and upper back, then trailing down to her lower back and her hips.

"Are you using the 50?" Hannah asks, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Of course," Baker says, her voice bordering on tender. "I don't want you to burn at all."