The Secret of Othello Read online

  “Who knows when we’ll both be back at the same time,” Denny replied.

  Steven’s grip tightened. “You say that like I have someplace to go.”

  “The waiver—”

  “Isn’t here, and maybe isn’t coming,” Steven said tightly.

  “There’s other things you could do in the military besides be a SEAL.”

  “Not for me,” Steven said.

  “Because you’re an idiot,” Denny said. “You could be a Coast Guard rescue swimmer. Is that so terrible, pulling drowning people out of the water? I know there’s usually no explosions or bombs, but maybe you could overlook that in favor of, I don’t know, saving lives.”

  “Shut up.”

  “And there’s no guns for you to shoot, but oh, yeah, saving lives—”

  Steven reached over and punched his arm. “What if I had to work for someone like you? I’d throw myself into the Arctic Ocean.”

  “And then maybe you could rescue yourself, saving a life—”

  Denny’s campaign ended ten seconds later when Steven pulled into the parking lot of the Bookmine. They looked through the front windows to where Aunt Riza was working the counter, no doubt haranguing customers into spending more than they’d intended.

  “You need backup?” Steven asked.

  “No,” Denny said. “I need a hamburger with extra-large fries. And onion rings, too.”

  “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  Once Denny was inside, he went directly to Mom’s office. She was bent over the computer keyboard, laboriously clicking on the yellowed keys.

  “You should follow my advice and get a new computer,” Denny said.

  “All computers hate me.” Mom’s glare at the screen softened when she glanced up. “Why aren’t you out at sea?”

  “Rain.” Denny closed the door behind him and sat in a chair already crowded with piles of books. “I have to talk to you about this party.”

  Mom wheeled her chair back from the cramped computer desk. Her dress today was full of orange and yellow flowers. “I don’t think I’m the one you have to talk to.”

  “I’ll go,” he said. “If Steven can go take the test. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  Mom gazed at him for a long moment. “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I want.”

  She stood up, knocked on the glass window separating her office from the front counter, and motioned for Aunt Riza to join them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Li’l Conch Café was jammed full of customers. Steven grabbed a stool at the end of the counter, put in his order to go, and checked his phone. Jen and Kelsey had both left messages. He didn’t listen to them. A familiar laugh made him turn sideways. Sean Garrity and Brian Vandermark were sitting in a corner booth, with Sean laughing and Brian ducking his head shyly.

  Oh. So not good.

  Steven turned back before either of them could see him. He hadn’t known they were friends. Hadn’t realized they were the kind of friends to go to lunch together and tell jokes and smile shyly. He wondered if Denny knew about it. He didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

  An elderly man and woman wearing NASA ball caps took the stools beside Steven.

  “I hear this is the best food on the island,” the man said. “That true?”

  “Completely true,” Steven said. “You like NASA?”

  “We’re retired from it,” said the woman. She was silver-haired and trim, her cheeks bright from the sun.

  “Got our gold watches,” said the man.

  The woman added, “And two pensions.”

  Her name was Irma and his name was Ed. They’d started work way back when the place was called Cape Canaveral, which had changed to Cape Kennedy, and then eventually changed back again, except for the parts that were still the Kennedy Space Center. Neither of their jobs had been very glamorous. Supply, requisitions, and procurement, they said. They were very proud of all those astronauts and the thousands of people that had made each mission possible.

  Ed said, “We’ve seen every single space shuttle launch.”

  “All we have to do is set up folding chairs in our driveway,” Irma said.

  Louanne Garrity came over to take their order. Ed wanted a chili dog and Irma asked for a grilled cheese sandwich with tomatoes.

  “I hear NASA just lost a satellite in the ocean,” Steven said, when Louanne was gone.

  Ed shook his head glumly. “Countries are always losing stuff. Russia, India, China—all of them. You never know what’s going to come falling down next.”

  Sean Garrity laughed loudly again. Steven risked a glance. Sean and Brian were sliding out of their booth.

  “They say it was a weather satellite, but a friend of mine says those wouldn’t survive reentry,” Steven said.

  Irma looked thoughtful. “Depends on how big it was. If it’s the size of a bus it might.”

  Ed said, “Or maybe even a minivan.”

  Steven leaned forward, both elbows on the counter. “I met some people who are looking for this one. They work for some company called Othello.”

  “Ha!” Ed said. “Dirty top to bottom.”

  Irma pinched the back of his wrinkled hand. “You can’t say that.”

  “Dealt with them all the time,” Ed said.

  “One year,” Irma corrected. “Our last year.”

  Steven said, “Not a good experience, huh?”

  “They were always within the letter of the law,” Irma said, “if not the exact spirit of it. What makes a young man like you so interested?”

  Steven shrugged. “I think it’s kind of cool, some satellite lying in the ocean out there.”

  Irma said. “Good luck to you if you go looking for it. Like a needle in a haystack. An ocean haystack.”

  Sean and Brian reached the cash register. Steven tried to slouch and remain inconspicuous, but Brian saw him and did a double take. For a moment, he maybe thought Steven was Denny.

  Would serve you right to get caught, Steven thought.

  Louanne Garrity brought over Steven’s lunch order and put the paper bag down in front of him with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. “I hear you’ve been ducking Melissa Hardy.”

  “What?” Steven asked. “Says who?”

  Louanne took his money. “Says Melissa. You said Saturday night that you were going to call her.”

  “A tree fell on my house!” Steven argued. “I’ve been kind of busy ever since.”

  “It’s already Tuesday,” Louanne said. “That’s like ten years in Fisher Key time. So call her. She’s really nice and you’ve had a crush on her ever since we were two grades ahead of you in school, right?”

  “Right,” Steven said, and fled with the lunch bag.

  He ate most of his fries on the short drive back to the Bookmine. From the vantage point of the parking lot he could see Robin at the counter, but no sign of Denny, their mom, or Aunt Riza. He figured the decent thing to do would be wade in there and support his twin. The hamburgers smelled delicious, though, and he was absolutely starving.

  Denny was a big boy. He could take care of himself against two short Cuban women, blood relatives or not.

  *

  “Absolutely not,” Aunt Riza said. “Your brother must attend the party as well! It would be disrespectful not to.”

  Denny stared at her. “Disrespectful to who?”

  She waved her hand. “To you!”

  Mom squeezed the bridge of her nose and made a suffering sound.

  Denny had tried patiently explaining why it would be an insult to Sensei Mike for both of them to cancel. He’d hoped she would understand how important the black belt test was to them. True to his expectations, though, she brushed off his concerns. Which left the compromise, which she was also rejecting.

  “I won’t be insulted.” Denny’s voice rose with agitation. He fought to bring it down. “I promise.”

  “It’s not acceptable,” Aunt Riza said.r />
  “Ree,” Mom said, “we’ve talked about this. You could move it to Sunday and no one would object.”

  “You could?” Denny asked.

  Aunt Riza blinked owlishly at them both. “Saturday is a much better day, astrologically speaking.”

  “Astrology is just superstition,” Denny said.

  Mom gave him a look that clearly said he wasn’t helping himself.

  Denny turned back to his aunt. “If you can move it to Sunday, then Steven and I can take our black belt test, and you’ll make us doubly happy. We can come up to Miami knowing we achieved one of our biggest goals in life, just like you’ve also worked to achieve your own goals.”

  “I’ve worked very hard,” Aunt Riza acknowledged. She folded her hands in her lap. “People don’t realize.”

  Denny sensed he was on the track to victory. “It means everything to us that you want to have a party. This one little thing, moving it to Sunday, would make us grateful forever.”

  Aunt Riza sighed. “I think you’re too persuasive.”

  Denny said, “Is that a good thing?”

  “If I move it to Sunday,” she said. “And you and your brother will be happy, and you’ll dress nicely, and you won’t bring your friend.”

  Denny’s mouth opened and slammed shut again. He hadn’t even thought about bringing Brian. Now that she mentioned it, though, how was he going to explain to Brian that he’d promised a romantic weekend but was now ditching him?

  A headache began to blossom behind his eyes.

  “What do you think, Denny?” His mother asked. Both women were gazing at him expectantly.

  “I won’t bring anyone,” Denny murmured.

  The thrill of victory was immediately replaced by the ashen taste of failure. He couldn’t believe he’d just agreed to that. He trudged out of the store and into the parking lot, wondering if he should just throw himself in front of traffic. Steven’s truck was out there, though, and the jerk was eating lunch without him.

  “Brian will understand,” Steven said when Denny told him the deal.

  Denny slowly banged his head against the dashboard. “No, he won’t. I’m such a jerk.”

  Steven offered the lunch. “Here. Have some of your fries. Ask me what I learned about the missing satellite.”

  Denny groaned. “I don’t care about the missing satellite.”

  “Don’t you have any curiosity at all?”

  “No.”

  “It’s really small.”

  Denny ate some fries. “So’s your brain.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who just made a bad deal.”

  “Is it really bad?” Denny asked plaintively. “Did I just make a huge mistake?”

  “I don’t know,” Steven said. “You’ll know when you tell Brian.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I am so sick of room service,” Brian said over the phone. “Can we go out to dinner somewhere? I don’t care where.”

  It wasn’t the romantic dinner that Denny had planned back on Saturday night, but he borrowed his dad’s car again, put on the only decent shorts and shirt he had, and drove Brian down to a Marathon seafood restaurant named Leia’s. The place was crammed full of mermaid statues, fishing nets, and old photos of the bomber training strip that was now the airport. The patio overlooked the Atlantic. The breeze was still strong enough to flap the colorful pirate flags hanging from the poles.

  “I like this place,” Brian said. “It’s got character.”

  Denny squeezed lemon into his iced tea. “Lots.”

  “You okay? You’ve been quiet since you picked me up.”

  “Yes. Fine.”

  Brian simply gazed at him.

  Denny shifted on his seat. “You have to promise not to get mad at me.”

  “I can’t promise that,” Brian said slowly. “What is it?”

  Denny reached for sugar next. Deliberately he tore open a packet, poured the contents into his tea, and stirred it slowly. “I have to reschedule this weekend to next weekend.”

  “Oh,” Brian replied. “Why?”

  The waitress walked by with a large party of tourists and sat them in a corner of the patio. Brian was momentarily distracted. Denny took the opportunity to check out the expression on his face. Not mad. Not mad yet.

  “My aunt is throwing some family party up in Miami, and Mom says we have to go,” Denny said.

  Brian tilted his head. “So why would I get upset?”

  “Because this is our chance to get away,” Denny said, feeling miserable. “And I’d rather spend time with you than seeing a bunch of stuffy old relatives.”

  “But we can go the weekend after,” Brian said, still not upset. “It’s not a big deal. Can I still watch you take your black belt test on Saturday?”

  “It’s going to be all day long, and really boring.”

  “I won’t be bored.” Brian reached over the table, patted Denny’s arm, and quickly withdrew his hand. “Promise.”

  Denny barely had a moment to enjoy that brief contact, skin on skin. Not that he was obsessing, but the countdown in his head was flashing big red numbers at him. Twenty days until he went away. Twenty days and all he and Brian had done was kiss a few times, plus some groping on the lumpy sofa in the apartment.

  “If you put any more sugar in that tea you’re going to turn diabetic,” Brian said.

  Denny glanced in surprise at the torn sugar packets on the table. He only remembered opening one. “Maybe I better order something else to drink,” he said sheepishly.

  For dinner, Brian had the Cuban Mix sandwich and Denny ordered a steak. He didn’t think he’d get much steak at the academy. He didn’t imagine he’d be sitting on a patio overlooking the ocean anytime soon after Reporting In Day, either. When he tried to picture his life twenty days into the future, it was a big blank ocean of the unknown—exciting and terrifying at the same time.

  But Brian’s future was that same confusing mix, Denny reminded himself. Worse, because of the uncertainty of coming up with the tuition money, and getting to MIT.

  “How’s the financial aid thing going?” Denny asked. “Any news?”

  Brian’s gaze was out on the ocean, where some tourists were Jet-Skiing in the final hour before sunset. “No news from the school. Mom says that at worst, I’ll miss one term while we get it straightened out and I could start in January.”

  “Would you stay down here until then?” Denny asked.

  The Jet-Skiers zoomed around each other—two guys and a younger woman, all of them laughing and shouting encouragement to each other. Brian said, “I don’t know. Christopher says I could stay up there in Boston, sleep on his couch.”

  Denny didn’t like Christopher, even though he’d only known him for a few days. And he didn’t like Brian talking to him, even though that was a jealous and totally irrational response.

  “Do you want to sleep on his couch?” Denny asked carefully.

  “Absolutely not,” Brian said vehemently.

  Denny smiled. “Good. You deserve at least a futon.”

  After dinner they sat in Dad’s car at the end of Leia’s parking lot and kissed some more. And this was the absolute highlight of Denny’s day, because Brian smelled great and his mouth was warm and firm, and he kissed Denny like he was special. Wherever his hands went, Denny’s skin warmed and wanted more.

  Brian’s hands went to his shoulders, his back, and then lower—

  “Help!” a woman yelled out, a distant cry on the water.

  Denny jerked back from Brian’s arms. He saw people running to the water’s edge, which was lined with moss-covered rocks. The bystanders pointed out into the water but no one made a move to get into the ocean.

  “What is it?” Brian asked.

  They got out of the car to see what was going on. One of the Jet Skis had capsized several dozen yards offshore. Its operator was floating in the water. One of the man’s friends had slowed down to help and was in danger of capsizing his own machine. The third rider, th
e woman, was making circles and yelling for assistance.

  “What are you—you can’t go in there,” Brian said as Denny pulled off his shirt.

  “Sure I can.” Denny toed off his sandals, too, and pressed his cell phone into Brian’s hand. “Call nine-one-one!”

  It wasn’t a far swim, not compared to what he normally did, but the choppy waves and diminishing light slowed him. The stricken man was fifty or so years old, heavyset, his eyes closed and his lips blue. His friend had abandoned his own Jet Ski and was trying to pound his back, but life vests hindered them both.

  “Come on, Fred! Breathe!” the friend yelled.

  Fred showed no signs of life. Denny knew they didn’t have time to wait for more help.

  “Hold on to your machine,” Denny told him. “I’ll get him to shore.”

  He started rescue breathing. He didn’t have a portable mask with him, not even a disposable plastic shield, so he had to put his mouth over Fred’s cold lips and force air into him. The man’s mouth reeked of alcohol.

  “Oh, that’s nasty,” Denny said.

  He couldn’t do compressions, not with the vest in place, so he alternated breathing and towing Fred toward shore. Breathe, tow, breathe, tow.

  After four rounds of that, Fred started to cough and choke and flail.

  “Easy, don’t fight!” Denny told him. Panicking victims could drag a rescuer down. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

  “What’s what?” Fred asked. “Huh?”

  “Let me do the work,” Denny said.

  Fred stopped jerking his arms, but he continued to cough and sputter. Everything had gone dark now except for the yellow and white lanterns on the restaurant patio. Denny was maybe thirty feet from shore when a fire truck arrived with spinning red lights. Two firefighters waded into the waves while others held up flashlights.

  “Good job, Anderson,” said one of the firefighters as they took Fred from him. “Nice to see you again without a tree on your head.”

  The firefighters helped Denny ashore. He wasn’t tired, much, but the currents had been stronger than he expected, and he was shivering. Someone got a blanket around his shoulders and then Brian was there, holding the edges for him. Brian also had Denny’s shirt and sandals.