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Chapters (47)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraphs
  5. Prologue
  6. Part One
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. Part Two
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author
  47. Newsletter Sign-up

Sometimes they went to Dirk’s. He was such a hippie, he made Poppy’s dad seem like a WASP by comparison. Dirk lived on a plot of land deep in the woods near Cole’s Neck. He slept in the back of a caramel-colored International Harvester Travelall parked next to a giant boat hidden under a tented tarp. He’d proudly rip it off when he showed it to his guests, like the host of a game show revealing the contestant’s prize. The wooden boat was beautiful but far from seaworthy. The boat was what Dirk worked on when he wasn’t surfing or taking on odd carpentry jobs. Poppy had a feeling that Dirk, like her dad with his local history and house projects, put a lot of work into things he would never finish.

Dirk loved it when Poppy and the other surfers came to visit him. He liked being the center of attention, and railed about Marxism and capitalism and the evil war machines and NAFTA. He told Poppy that he was a typical old-school “Fleetian.” He didn’t follow anyone’s rules, didn’t care about the countless citations the town slapped on him when the neighbors complained about the mess in his yard. He seemed so right about everything and so cool and wise that when he passed around sheets of LSD, Poppy didn’t hesitate to set one on her tongue.

Why not? Nobody seemed to care what Poppy was up to. Michael and Ann were always at the Shaws’ dumb house, and her parents, whom she’d seen get high plenty of times, didn’t seem to notice. This past year they’d been so focused on Michael’s adjustment and so busy with the logistics of his adoption that sometimes Poppy felt overlooked.

She didn’t say a word about Dirk and Kit and Mickey and Nick and Paul, her new best friends. Her parents seemed pleased that she wasn’t bored anymore. She’d crawl into bed after the end of a long day and feel like she’d just experienced the whole world—a world that felt bigger and more expansive.

Poppy felt herself change between waves and bonfires and drunk kisses with her new friends—the boys and even Kit. She couldn’t tell if she was losing her former self or becoming the person she always thought she was. It was exciting and fun and scary, like catching a wave just before it crested. She rode straight into it the way Dirk taught her. She rode into it until it rode her.

ELEVEN

Ann