"It's not fair!" I shouted at the ocean. My words were drowned by the roar of the waves.

I didn't realize how far I had walked until I turned to look back at the house. I folded my arms across my breasts and sat on a dry mound of sand, staring across the ocean waves. There was a constant breeze, but the sky wasn't as cloudy as it had first seemed. The weather here changed so quickly it was as if a Cape Cod magician controlled it. I sensed the sun was stronger down by the water, reflecting off the sand. Like a Ping-Pong ball, I was bouncing from warm moments to cool ones. The breeze brushed the tears from my cheeks. I sighed so deeply I thought I might snap like a brittle piece of china. I even envisioned my face shattered in pieces like some alabaster puzzle. All the king's horses and all the king's men . . couldn't put poor Melody together again.

Suddenly, I saw and heard a motorboat skipping over the waves, the spray flying up around it.

Whoever was driving it turned it sharply toward the shore and sped up, heading directly toward me. I watched with curiosity as it drew closer until it was near enough for me to realize who was driving. Adam Jackson waved. He shut off the motor and the boat drifted in with the tide.

"Hey!" he called, his hands cupping his mouth.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

The boat lifted and fell until he was nearly to shore. "Just taking a walk," I shouted back.

"I thought it was you. I have great eyesight, huh?" He laughed and then held up a pair of binoculars. "Come on. take you for a spin."

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

"Come on," he urged. "You'll have fun."

"How will I get to the boat? I'll get soaked to the bone and shrink to death."

He laughed and hopped out. He was wearing a tight black bathing suit and a light blue polo shirt, which was getting wet, but he didn't mind. He pulled the boat closer until the bow hit the sand. Then he took off his shirt and threw it into the boat before he beckoned.

"Come on. I"ll make sure you don't get too wet."

"I don't think so."

"You don't look too happy," he said. "A ride in this thing will drive your gloom away. You have the Adam Jackson one hundred percent guarantee."

I looked toward the house. Aunt Sara and Uncle Jacob would have a fit if they saw me get into the boat, but Adam's shoulders gleamed invitingly in the afternoon sunlight. I stood up, my heart thumping.

Why not? I thought. I'm not a prisoner here.

"Okay," I said impulsively.

"Good," he cried. "Hurry up. The Atlantic Ocean isn't exactly a bathtub yet," he said laughing and pretending to be shivering in the water.

I rolled up my dungarees as high as I could, cradled my sneakers and socks in my arms, and then stepped into the water. The tide kept rising, however, and I screamed and retreated. He laughed and rushed forward, scooping me into his arms before I could protest. Then he carried me to the boat as if I weighed nothing and gently lifted me over the edge. Once I was in, he pushed the boat out, pulled himself up and swung over.

"See. Barely a drop on you."

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

"What's the big deal?" he said shrugging.

"Boats, water, fishing. . . they're as common as breathing to us Cape Codders, and now that you're becoming one, too, you have to get used to it all or risk forever being known as an outsider: And you know how we treat outsiders," he said. He widened his eyes as though that would be a fate worse than death. He laughed and started the motor.

The boat lifted and fell with the waves so sharply, I had trouble standing.

"Isn't it too rough today? I feel as if I'm in an egg beater."

"Call this rough? Hardly." He started the engine. Then he patted the seat beside him. "Sit up here so you get a good view. I'll even let you steer if you want."

"Really?"

"Sure. Come on, sit," he urged and I did so. "I haven't been out much myself this year," he said. "I'm glad I had the desire to do so today." He turned to me with a twinkle in his soft blue eyes. "It wasn't just an accident finding you on the beach, you know."

"Oh?"

"It's fate, what's meant to be," he said with a wink.

And then he gunned the engine so fast and hard, the front of the boat lifted and we hit the water with a hard bounce.

I screamed. I had to cling to him, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Do you have to go so fast?" I cried. The spray was hitting us as d the wind made my blouse flap so much, I thought it would tear off. My eyes were tearing, too.

"Of course," he said. "You want to get a thrill, don't you? Going slow is not for people like us."

People like us? I thought. Who did he think I was?

The boat bounced so hard each time it hit the water, I was afraid it might fall apart. My heart was pounding. Finally, he slowed down and told me to try steering myself. He slid over and I took the wheel.

Then he pulled himself around, straddling me, and reached over my shoulders with both his arms to put his hands over mine.

"I'll show you how to do it first," he said, his cheek against my cheek. He was wearing some wonderful-smelling aftershave lotion. The water, the breeze, the scent of the ocean and his lotion made me dizzy. I felt myself spinning, but it was wonderful and exciting. For a while anyway, I could forget the secrets and the lies.

He accelerated slowly and I turned the wheel, im-pressed and fascinated with my power to direct the boat. I was so entranced with it that I didn't pay much attention to his lips moving over my ears and down my cheek.

"You're delicious," he suddenly said.

"What?" I pulled to the side to look at him. He was staring at me, those remarkable eyes drinking me in, then swallowing me down. I quickly fastened one of the buttons of my blouse that had opened, but my garments felt flimsy and transparent under his piercing gaze. It took my breath away. Without warning, the boat bounced sharply, tossing him into my lap. We both screamed and he recovered quickly enough to drop the speed and straighten the bow. We caught our breaths and the boat bobbed gently. This far away from shore, the water was calmer and more inviting.

"You have to keep your eyes on what you're doing," he said.

"And you have to keep yours in your head. I have pupil prints in places I'd rather keep unblemished."

He laughed and leaned back. "You sure talk funny sometimes, but it's refreshing. All the girls here sound the same. Everything's groovy, know what I mean?"

I nodded.

"Why didn't you come to the party last night?"

he asked. "I kept looking for you."

"I couldn't," I said. "I wanted to, but-"

"Your uncle and aunt wouldn't let you?"

"Something like that."

"I figured." He shook his head. "Must be hard for you. I bet you feel as if you're in some kind of a prison or a nunnery, huh?"

I didn't say anything.

"All the girls are jealous of you, you know."

"What? Why?"

"I heard them talking about you last night, saying how pretty you are."

"They did not."

"Swear," he said raising his hand. "It's true.

You're about the prettiest girl I've seen and I've seen quite a few." He leaned toward me. "I've even gone out with college girls, but you've got that one-in-a-million look about you, the magic that makes for movie stars and models. I heard from the grapevine that your mother is a model. Now I understand."

I sat there with my mouth gaping open. I had never heard a boy in our school talk like this and certainly never about me.

"Wait a minute," he said before I could respond. He got up and went to a cabinet to take out a camera. "I'd like to get a few shots of you just the way you are, natural, the wind in your hair."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just sit there. Steer the boat and be yourself."

He aimed his camera and snapped pictures. "These will be worth something someday after you're famous."

I laughed and shook my head. "I am not so pretty. I have freckles and my ears are too big. I'll never become famous."

"Adam Jackson knows pretty women and I'm telling you, Melody, you're one of 'em. Don't argue with an expert." He kept on looking at me with that gleeful smile in his eyes. He was making me very nervous.

"Can I make it go faster again?" I asked.

"I knew you would want to. Just move the lever ahead slowly."

I did so, getting better at controlling the boat.

He even gave me a compliment about it.

"You've got your sea legs," he said and ran his palm down the side of my right leg. "And they're really nice." He laughed at the look on my face. "You better get used to compliments, Melody. They're going to rain down on you like a hurricane as you get older and prettier."

The blood rushed to my face. Was he just saying these things or did he really mean them? He put his arm around my shoulder and helped steer with his other hand. He held me tighter, drawing me against him until I felt his breath on my cheek again and then the soft touch of his lips.

"I think you better take me back," I told him, my voice close to cracking. "My aunt will be turning over rocks looking for me." He laughed.

"Okay, but only if you promise to meet me tomorrow night about eight o'clock."

"Meet you? Where?"

He thought a moment.

"Meet me right there where I found you sitting, or are you afraid to walk the beach at night?"

"I'm not afraid," I said quickly. "It's just that-"

"You might not be able to get out? Don't let them treat you like a child," he said, his eyes narrowed.

"I don't," I protested, but in my heart, I knew he was right.

"Then it's settled. I"ll bring a radio and a blanket and something to drink."

"Something to drink?"

"Something to keep us warm. You've done that before, haven't you?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, not even positive what he meant.

Was he going to bring a thermos of hot chocolate, coffee, tea, or did he mean whiskey?

"I thought so. You have a more sophisticated look about you. I'd like to hear what it was like growing up in West Virginia. My college friends tell me that girls from the coal mining towns know the score. The girls here like to think they're so sophisticated. They talk a good game, but when it comes right down to playing it, they're not home. You know what I mean?"

"No," I said, "Sure you do."

"I'd better get back."

"Aye, aye, Captain," he replied sitting up quickly and saluting. I laughed as he hurriedly took the controls and turned the boat around. "You want me to put you back where you were or closer to the house?"

"Better put me back where I was," I said. "My aunt would turn inside out if she saw me riding in a motorboat, and my uncle would put a ball and chain on my ankle."

"The Logans are strange, and not because of what happened to Laura. They were strange long before that."

I wanted to see just how much he knew and how much the people here gossiped. "You mean about my mother and father?" I asked.

"No." He shook his head. "I don't know much about them, except what I was told in school. I'm sorry about your father. That must have been a terrible accident, too."

"It was."

"You've got a lot of good reason to be sad, Melody, but you're too beautiful to remain melancholy long." He brought the boat as close to the shore as he had brought it before. My heart skipped beats when he smiled at me again. Then he hopped out. "Sit on the side," he ordered. "Don't worry. I won't drop you."

I clutched my sneakers and socks and did as he said. He scooped under my legs again, this time holding me tighter around the waist. Our faces were inches apart. I thought I would drown in his eyes. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips.

"No fair," I said. "I'm trapped like a cat up a tree."

He laughed. "That's right. And if you don't kiss me back, I'll drop you in the ocean." He pretended to let go and I screamed. "Well?"

"All right, but just once," I said. This time, our kiss was long and his tongue moved between my lips, grazing mine. It sent a chill down my spine, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"I've got to get back," I said, practically whispering. My heart pounded so hard, I thought I wouldn't be able to get out the words.