When he was close, I could see flecks of hazel in his brown eyes, and again I noticed the trace of amusement in his expression that I’d seen earlier. He seemed to scan my face, and when he was satisfied, he motioned to my hands, which were still buried in my pockets. “Can I see your hands now? Just hold them faceup.”
“It’s cold.”
“It won’t take long.”
This was weird and getting weirder, but whatever. After I showed him my palms, he leaned closer to them, concentrating. He held a finger up.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Go ahead.”
He traced his finger lightly over the lines in my palms, one after the other. It struck me as strangely intimate, and I felt a little unsettled.
“You’re definitely not from Ocracoke,” he intoned.
“Wow,” I said, trying to keep him from knowing how I felt. “Amazing. And your guess probably has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve never seen me around here before.”
“I meant that you’re not from North Carolina. You’re not even from the South.”
“You might have also noticed I don’t have a Southern accent.”
Nor did he, I suddenly realized, which was strange, since I thought everyone in the South was supposed to sound like Andy Griffith. He continued to trace for another few seconds before pulling his finger back. “Okay, I think I’ve got it now. You can put your hands back in your pockets.”
I did. I waited but he said nothing. “And?”
“And what?”
“Do you have all your answers?”
“Not all of them. But enough. And I’m pretty sure I know your name.”
“No, you don’t.”
“If you say so.”
Whether he was cute or not, I was done with the game and it was time for me to go. “I think I’m going to go sit in the car for a while,” I said. “It’s getting cold. Nice meeting you.” Turning around, I took a couple of steps before I heard him clear his throat.
“You’re from the West Coast,” he called out. “But not California. I’m thinking…Washington? Maybe Seattle?”
His words stopped me in my tracks and when I turned, I knew I couldn’t hide my shock.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“How did you know?”
“The same way I know you’re sixteen and a sophomore. You’ve also got an older sibling and I’m guessing it’s…a sister? And your name starts with an M…not Molly or Mary or Marie, but something even more formal. Like…Margaret? Only you probably call yourself Maggie or something like that.”
I felt my jaw drop slightly, too stunned to say anything at all.
“And you didn’t move to Ocracoke permanently. You’re only staying a few months or so, right?” He shook his head, breaking into that smile again. “But enough. Like I said earlier, I’m Bryce and it’s nice to meet you, Maggie.”
It took a few seconds before I was finally able to croak out, “You could tell all that from looking at my face and my palms?”
“No. I learned most of it from Linda.”
It took me a second to figure it out. “My aunt?”
“I visited with her for a little while when I was in the cabin. She pointed you out when you walked past our table and she told me a little about you. I’m the one who fixed your bike, by the way.”
As I peered at him, I vaguely remembered my aunt and Gwen talking to someone in the booth.
“Then what was all that stuff about my face and my palms?”
“Nothing. Just having fun.”
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“Maybe not. But you should have seen your expression. You’re very pretty when you have no idea what to say.”
I almost wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. Pretty? Did he just say that I’m very pretty? Again, I reminded myself that it didn’t matter one way or the other. “I could have done without the magic trick.”
“You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
“Why would my aunt tell you about me?” And, I wondered, what else had she told him?
“She wanted to know if I was interested in tutoring you. I do that sometimes.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “You’re going to be my tutor?”
“I haven’t committed to it. I wanted to meet you first.”
“I don’t need a tutor.”
“My mistake, then.”
“My aunt just worries a lot.”
“I understand.”
“Then why doesn’t it sound like you believe me?”
“I have no idea. I was just going on what your aunt told me. But if you don’t need a tutor, that’s fine with me.” His grin was relaxed, his dimples still in place. “How do you like it so far?”
“Like what?”
“Ocracoke,” he said. “You’ve been here a few weeks now, right?”
“It’s kind of small.”
“For sure.” He laughed. “It took me a while to get used to it, too.”
“You weren’t raised here?”
“No,” he said. “Like you, I’m a dingbatter.”
“What’s a dingbatter?”
“Anyone who isn’t originally from here.”
“That’s not a real thing.”
“It is around here,” he said. “My father and my brothers are dingbatters, too. Not my mom, though. She was born and raised here. We’ve only been back for a few years.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward an older-model truck with fading red paint and large wide tires. “I’ve got an extra chair in the car if you want to sit. It’s a lot more comfortable than the benches.”
“I should probably get going. I don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me at all. Until you showed up, the ride was fairly boring.”
I couldn’t exactly tell if he was flirting, but uncertain, I said nothing at all. Bryce seemed to take my lack of an answer as a yes and went on.
“Great,” he said. “I’ll get the chair.”
Before I knew what was happening, the chair was angled toward the ocean beside his, and I watched as he took his seat. Suddenly feeling a bit trapped, I made my way toward the other chair and seated myself gingerly alongside him.
He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Better than the bench, right?”
I was still trying to digest how good-looking he was and that my aunt—the former nun—had set all this up. Or maybe not. The last thing my parents probably wanted was for me to meet anyone of the opposite sex ever again, and they’d probably told her that, too.
“I guess. It’s still kind of cold.”
As I spoke, Daisy moseyed over and lay down between us. I reached toward her, giving her a quick pat.
“Be careful,” he said. “Once you start petting her, she can get kind of insistent that you never stop.”
“It’s okay. She reminds me of my dog. Back home, I mean.”
“Yeah?”
“Sandy’s older and a little bigger, though. I miss her. How old is Daisy?”
“She turned one in October. So I guess she’s almost fourteen months now.”
“She seems very well trained for being so young.”
“She should be. I’ve been training her since she was a puppy.”
“To throw garbage away?”
“And other things. Like not running off.” He turned his attention to the dog, speaking in a more excited tone. “But she’s still got a ways to go, don’t you, good girl?”
Daisy whined, her tail thumping.
“If you’re not from Ocracoke, how long have you lived there?”
“It’ll be four years in April.”
“What could have possibly brought your family to Ocracoke?”
“My dad was in the military and after he retired, my mom wanted to be closer to her parents. And because we’d had to move a lot for his job, my dad figured it was only fair to let my mom decide where to settle down for a while. He told us it would be an adventure.”
“Has it been an adventure?”
“At times,” he said. “In the summers it’s a lot of fun. It can get pretty crowded on the island, especially around the Fourth of July. And the beach is really beautiful. Daisy loves to run out there.”
“Can I ask what the camera is for?”
“Anything interesting, I guess. There wasn’t much today, even before it got dark.”
“Is there ever?”
“Last year, a fishing boat caught on fire. The ferry diverted to help rescue the crew since the Coast Guard hadn’t arrived yet. It was very sad, but the crew was unharmed and I got some amazing photos. There are dolphins, too, and if they’re breaching, I can sometimes get a nice shot. But today I really brought it for my project.”
“What’s your project?”
“To become an Eagle Scout. I’m training Daisy, and I wanted to get some good shots of her.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it. You can become an Eagle Scout for training a dog?”
“I’m getting her ready for more advanced training later,” he said. “She’s learning to be a mobility assistance dog.” As if anticipating my next question, he explained, “For people in wheelchairs.”
“You mean like a seeing-eye dog?”
“Sort of. She needs different skills, but it’s the same principle.”
“Like throwing out the garbage?”
“Exactly. Or retrieving the remote control or the telephone handset. Or opening drawers or cabinets or doors.”
“How can she open doors?”
“You need a handle on the door, not a knob, of course. But she stands on her hind legs and uses her paws, then nudges the door the rest of the way open with her nose. She’s pretty good at it. She can open drawers, too, as long as there’s a cord on the handle. The main thing I have to work on is her concentration, but I think part of that is probably her age. I hope she’s accepted into the official program, but I’m pretty sure she will be. She isn’t required to have any advanced skills—that’s what the formal trainers are for—but I wanted to give her a head start. And when she’s ready, she’ll go to her new home.”
“You have to give her away?”
“In April.”
“If it were me, I’d keep the dog and forget the Eagle Scout project.”
“It’s more about helping someone who needs it. But you’re right. It’s not going to be easy. We’ve been inseparable since I got her.”
“Except when you’re at school, you mean.”
“Even then,” he said. “I’ve already graduated, but I was homeschooled by my mom. My brothers are homeschooled, too.”
Back in Seattle, I only knew one family who homeschooled their children, and they were religious fundamentalists. I didn’t know them very well; all I knew was that the daughters had to wear long dresses all the time and the family put up a huge nativity scene in their front yard every Christmas.
“Did you like it? Being homeschooled, I mean?”
“Loved it,” he said.
I thought about the social aspect of school, which was far and away my favorite part of it. I couldn’t imagine not seeing my friends.
“Why?”
“Because I could learn at my own pace. My mom’s a teacher and since we moved around so much, my parents thought we’d get a better education that way.”
“Do you have desks in one of the spare rooms? With a chalkboard and a projector?”
“No,” he said. “We work at the kitchen table when we need a lesson. But we do a lot of studying on our own, too.”
“And that works?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism out of my voice.