The Dolls(18)

“Sure.” His enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself smiling too.

We grab a flashlight from the deck and stroll toward the back of the yard, where it dissolves into a mess of dying cypress trees, brown Spanish moss, and darkness. When Drew grabs my hand, I don’t pull away.

It only takes a few minutes for the noise of the party to vanish behind us. Out here, the night is thick, and the buzz of mosquitoes is a steady soundtrack.

“So,” he says after we sit down in the grass, “do you remember the time you and your mom came out to visit us and my mom made her special gumbo?”

I shake my head sadly. “I wish I did. I think maybe I blocked out most of my memories of being a kid here.”

“But you remember your mom?”

“Yeah. I still think about her a lot.” I pause. “She died a long time ago, though. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me for not moving on.”

“Eveny! That’s crazy! She was your mother. Of course you’re still thinking about her.”

I look out in the blackness. There’s rustling in the trees and splashing in the water, and although I don’t know what’s out there, I realize I feel safe with Drew.

“She’s just on my mind a lot more since we’ve moved back. I think—” I hesitate. “I think I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that she took her own life.”

Drew studies me for a long time and then pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry you went through all that, Eveny.”

I’m relieved that he understands and grateful when he abruptly changes the subject, chattering all the way until we’re called to eat.

As we stroll back to Teddy’s house, he tells me all about his band, which is called Little Brother and plays something called bayou fusion rock music.

“Bayou fusion rock?” I repeat.

He laughs and says it’s their own form of banjo-driven rock ’n’ roll. “Like if the Eagles, the Avett Brothers, and a New Orleans jazz band got together and had a music baby. I play the guitar,” he adds. “Teddy’s our drummer; he thinks we’ll get a record deal if we can just get in front of the right people.”

“Is that what you want to do with your life, go into music?” I ask.

“Who wouldn’t want to be a rock star, right? But I’m not a total idiot; I know those things don’t always work out. I’m going to go to college too, so I have a backup plan.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“LSU,” he says instantly. “No doubt. But I’ll have to get a scholarship or take out a bunch of student loans. It’s not like my parents have the money for something like that anymore.”

“Anymore?”

He shakes his head. “Let’s not talk economics right now. Too much of a downer. So how about you? Planning to go to college?”

“NYU,” I answer without hesitation.

“You want to go back to New York?” he asks in surprise.

“No offense, but this isn’t home. New York is.”

“Well,” Drew says, “we’ll see about that. This town has a funny way of sinking its teeth into you.”

Ten minutes later, I’m standing in Teddy’s backyard again, watching as the guys pull giant metal strainers out of the huge pots, shake them dry, and dump them on long picnic tables covered in newspaper. A sea of what look like miniature lobsters pours out alongside hundreds of potatoes and ears of bright yellow corn that have been cut into thirds.

“Dig in!” Drew shouts at me across the yard as he carries one of the strainers toward the back deck where Teddy’s already hosing them off.

I laugh as the crowd descends on the tables, piling big handfuls of crawfish, corn, and potatoes onto Styrofoam plates. Drew arrives at my side a moment later and leads me over to scoop up my own dinner, then we retreat to a quiet corner of the yard, where we sit down, leaning our backs against a big oak tree. Drew teaches me how to eat the crawfish, which is kind of a gross process: you twist them in half, suck the heads, and then squeeze the tails to get the meat out.

“You’re a natural,” Drew marvels after I’ve decapitated my fourth crawfish.

“Maybe I belong here after all.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he says, suddenly serious. “You’ve got some potato on your face.” He reaches over to gently brush a speck off my chin, and from the way he pauses and looks at me, I have the uneasy feeling he’s about to kiss me. But then he pulls back and looks down. “Glad you liked everything,” he says. “I’d better get you home once we’re done eating before your aunt skins me alive.”