Elin Hilderbrand - The Rumor

Hope sighed. She had hoped Brick would pretend to be asleep.

“You have a junior license, Hope,” Officer Brancato said. “Which means that you’re breaking curfew right now. And your erratic driving? I could see to it that you don’t drive again until your eighteenth birthday.”

Great, Hope thought. A lot of good going to church had done her.

She said, “My sister needed a ride home from a party. She’s with Hollis.” Hope paused, wondering if mention of Curren’s sister would help her cause. “But then Allegra decided she wanted to stay, and Brick was ready to go, so I’m taking him home. I’m sorry I was all over the road. I was changing the radio station, and I got distracted.”

“Your radio isn’t even on,” Curren said.

“I know,” Hope said. “I turned it off when you pulled me over.”

Curren studied Brick for a second and then Hope for a longer second. Finally, he said, “Hollis is bad news.”

Hope stared at the steering wheel, afraid to agree or disagree.

“Is your sister bad news?” Curren asked. He kind of sounded like he hoped Allegra was bad news. If he had pulled Allegra over and she had been alone, Hope was pretty sure she knew what would have happened.

“Yes,” Brick said.

This made Curren-Officer Brancato-laugh. He said, “I’m going to let you go with just a verbal warning.”

Hope exhaled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Curren said. His voice was half-kind and half-congratulatory of his own magnanimity. “Be good, be smart, stay out of trouble, go to college.”

Hope nodded solemnly, as though this were good, original advice.

Curren handed back her license and registration. “Okay, Hope. See you in church.”

Hope drove home at the cautious speed of twenty-five miles per hour, feeling the giddy lightness of someone who has been let off the hook. Brick fell asleep. When Hope pulled up to the Llewellyn house, Hope nudged him, and, like a robot, he climbed out of the car and lurched for the front door. Hope thought to warn him not to tell anyone-especially not his parents, especially not Allegra-that she’d been pulled over. But she doubted he would remember it, anyway.

Allegra shook Hope awake in the middle of the night. It took a minute for Hope to figure out what, exactly, was happening, but then she saw her sister’s face twisted in anger. Allegra’s lip was curled, and her hair tickled Hope’s face, which was effective torture.

Hope pushed Allegra away. “Get off me,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“You and Brick got pulled over,” she said. “Curren texted Hollis right away. He said something was going on between the two of you.”

“What?” Hope said.

“He said you were driving all over the road. Which says to me that the two of you were fooling around.”

“What?” Hope said.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Hope. I don’t believe the naive act. I know you nearly had sex with Calgary. I know you know what you’re doing with boys. You had your hands on Brick tonight, or you let him put his hands on you.”

“I did not,” Hope said. “Now get away from me, please. Get out of my room.”

“You went after my boyfriend,” Allegra said. “I know you like him, Mopey Hopey. I know you want him.”

“Do not call me that,” Hope said. Mopey Hopey: the insidious nickname that Allegra had invented the day they started middle school. “Really, what do you care? You’ve been cheating on Brick left and right with Ian Coburn, including tonight, right in front of his face. I’m sure you’re glad I took Brick home so you didn’t have to deal with him.”

“He stole my phone to text you!” Allegra said. “The two of you have something going on.”

“We do not,” Hope said. “Don’t be a douche waffle.”

From out of the dark air came a hard, stinging slap. Hope gasped. It hurt enough for her to cry, but she wouldn’t give Allegra the satisfaction. Hope pulled her duvet over her head and said, “I’m not going to sink to your level, Allegra. Now, get out of my room.”

“I’m going to tell everyone what a slut you are,” Allegra said. “Stealing your twin sister’s boyfriend.”

“What a slut I am?” Hope said. “That’s rich. I could just as easily call Hollis tomorrow and tell her about you and Ian Coburn. Or I’ll tell Brick. Or I’ll tell them both. Brick has pretty much figured it out, anyway. He was asking me what I knew, and I was so freaked out that I crossed the centerline. Because I was worried you were going to get caught. I was worried for you, Allegra. Now, good night.”

Did you hear?

Hope Pancik had slept with Brick Llewellyn. Sergeant Curren Brancato, whom many of us still thought of as Blue Thunder #33, had found them parked on a dirt lane off Shimmo Pond Road, buck naked, Hope’s bare feet pressed up against the steamed window, a pile of clothes strewn across the backseat of the Panciks’ Jeep.

Certain details corroborated this story. Allegra wasn’t walking with Brick between classes anymore. Instead, Allegra walked with Hollis Brancato and Bluto, while Brick hung out with Parker Marz. Parker was the shortest, smallest player on the Whaler varsity baseball team, the weakest link, but he had gumption and spirit, and he had jumped at the chance to be Brick’s sidekick.

Hope and Allegra didn’t speak to each other during the school day, but they had never spoken much before. Hope sat with her smart math friends at lunch in what seemed like a subdued state, and she left lunch early to head to the band room to practice the flute. When she passed through the cafeteria, someone let go a wolf whistle, to which she did not respond.

Allegra Pancik refused to discuss the matter of the betrayal with any of her friends, including Hollis Brancato. This made everyone in the high school believe that Allegra was taking the situation very, very seriously-perhaps more seriously than she had taken anything in her sixteen years.

The week started with a beautiful, sunny, and warm day-an expected high of seventy-eight degrees!-and Grace put on a jean skirt she hadn’t worn since before the twins were born.

When Benton arrived, he whistled at her from across the yard. “At last,” he called out, “I get to see those bare legs.”

Grace was standing out by the Adirondack chairs, drinking coffee as she overlooked Polpis Harbor. Finally, there were some boats in the water. Summer was on its way.

She watched Benton stride out to her. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, his Buckeyes hat, and his wraparound Oakley sunglasses with the lenses that reflected the spring sky. She couldn’t get over how much she desired the man. When he reached her, she locked her arms around his neck, and they started kissing. Grace ran her fingers over his face, she tugged on the ginger curls that stuck out beneath his hat. Benton’s hands grabbed her ass in her skirt, which was a new, surprising move for him, and then he lifted her up clear off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around him.

He groaned. She thought, This is it. It’s going to happen. He was so hard that she could feel him poking through his jeans. She tightened her legs.

“Please,” she said.

“I can’t,” he said. He bit her bottom lip and looked her in the eyes. “Damn it. I can’t resist you. I’m going to make love to you right here in the grass, right here in the sun. Are you okay with that?”

She was in such a state of delirium, every inch of her body yearning for him, that she couldn’t even answer. She set her feet back on the ground and was about to lie back when she heard a distinctive squeaking noise. She whipped around to see Hope settling into the hammock with a book.

“Oh no!” Grace whispered. What was Hope doing home? Then Grace remembered that both girls had taken the SAT that morning, and when they were done with the test, they were done for the day.

Benton also turned and saw Hope. He looked at Grace. Shit! he mouthed. Did she see?

“I don’t know,” Grace whispered. “I don’t think so?” The hammock was a hundred yards away, but it faced in the direction of the Adirondack chairs and the harbor, so how could Hope not have seen her mother with her legs wrapped around Benton Coe’s waist, the two of them madly kissing? And yet, Hope hadn’t screamed and fled for the house; nor had she called Grace out and demanded an explanation. She hadn’t so much as cleared her throat. So maybe she hadn’t seen.

“Act normal,” Grace said.

“Normal?” Benton said, as if he didn’t know what the word meant. He was visibly shaken. Grace reached for his hand and gave it a discreet squeeze.

“Come say hi,” she said. “If you scurry off, it will really look suspicious.”

“Let’s talk about gardening,” Benton said.

“The rose bed,” Grace said. “Lecture me.”

Benton raised his voice a little as they walked toward the hammock. “You need to cut them back if you want to force a more lavish bloom,” he said. “I know it sounds counterintuitive. And you should wipe down each leaf with a mixture of two parts water and one part lemon juice.”

Grace nodded, then pretended to notice Hope in the hammock. “Darling!” she said. “You’re home! How was the test?”

Hope gazed at Grace and Benton over the top of her book. Her expression was impossible to gauge. “Fine,” she said.

“Fine,” Grace repeated. “What does that mean, fine?”

“It means the test was fine, Mother,” Hope said. “And Allegra wanted me to tell you she went to the beach.”

“How did Allegra do on the test?” Grace asked.

Hope said, “I have no idea.” She gave Benton a smile that seemed friendly and sincere. “Hey, Benton.”

“Hey, Hope,” Benton said. “It’s good to see you! What are you reading?”

Hope held up her book: Love in the Time of Cholera, by García Márquez. “It’s for honors English,” she said.

“García Márquez is one of my favorite writers,” Benton said. “Are you enjoying it?”

“I haven’t really gotten into it yet,” Hope said.

“Have you ever read Nabokov?” Benton asked. “Lolita? You have to read Lolita. You basically shouldn’t be allowed to claim personhood until you’ve read Lolita.”

Hope shook her head, and Grace gave Benton’s arm a playful swat. “She’s only sixteen,” Grace said. “I’m not sure she’s ready for Lolita.”

“One is never too young for fine literature,” Benton said. “I’m so used to telling my clients which perennials to plant in the shade… but reading is my secret passion. Have you ever heard of Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth? That’s my favorite book of all time. You will love it.”

Hope shook her head.

“Any Salinger?”

“Catcher in the Rye,” Hope said. “For English. But I didn’t like it.”

“It’s hard to understand the subtext, I think,” Benton said. “Holden is all messed up because his brother died. You should try Franny and Zooey.”

“Okay,” Hope said.

“Have you read the Cheever stories?” Benton asked.

“I loved the Cheever stories,” Grace said. She gazed up at Benton. “How do you know so much about books?”

“I was a literature major,” Benton said.

“So was I,” Grace said. “French literature.”

Benton turned his attention back to Hope. “Have you read any Hemingway? The Sun Also Rises? Andre Dubus the father? God, now that man was a genius. Have you read any Updike?”

“No,” said Hope.

Benton rubbed his hands together. “I’m being a typical white male and forgetting the women. Have you read Edith Wharton? The Age of Innocence? The House of Mirth?”

“No.”

“I’m actually jealous of you!” Benton said. “I wish I was sixteen again and had the first reading of all those books ahead of me. Have you read John O’Hara’s An Appointment in Samarra? That’s another one of my favorites.”

Hope shook her head. Grace couldn’t believe how amazing it was to listen to Benton talk about books. Eddie had street smarts, but his reading material started and ended with purchase-and-sales agreements and the Nantucket Standard on Thursdays.

“Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Richard Russo? Peter Taylor, The Old Forest? Carson McCullers? What about any of the Russians? Tolstoy? Chekhov? Kafka? Isaac Babel?”

“You have to stop,” Hope said. “I’m one of the smartest kids in my grade, and you’re making me feel totally illiterate.”

Benton laughed. “Listen, I’m going to make you a list of a hundred books. You can probably make it halfway through the list in a year.”