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by ellen
wittlinger
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simon & schuster children's
publishing
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copyright i? 1/2 2005 ellen wittlinger
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all right reserved.
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isbn: 0689868022
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chapter one
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i met the walker three weeks
before my mother's wedding, but i'd seen him lots
of times before that. everybody saw him. you
couldn't help it.
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it seemed like he just showed up
one day and started walking all over town. no
certain path -- you'd see him everywhere, way in
the west end near the y, all the way south on
beggar's point by pickford's fish, or sometimes
stalking through the cemetery on the top of rhodes
hill. he didn't walk fast or slow, just at a
regular pace, like he had someplace to go but
wasn't in a big hurry to get there. nobody knew
his name, so we started calling him the walker.
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you noticed him because he was
tall and skinny, and even though he didn't walk
fast, he covered ground quickly with his long
stride. his dark hair curled around his earlobes
and down his neck, and he always wore the same
ancient brown leather jacket, his long arms
sticking about four inches out of the sleeves. the
day i met him it was almost warm out, and he had
his coat unzipped. i was with this guy andrew down
at blessingame park, and we were arguing.
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to tell the story right, i need
to back up a little. the thing is, even though he
was a very annoying person,
i'd hooked up with
andrew for a couple of days. we'd go to his house
after school because his parents worked late
.
colleen, my mother, was way too discombobulated
about her upcoming wedding to inquire about my
after-school activities.
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i don't know why i went with
andrew. i was never particularly attracted to him,
but every time i saw him he'd tell me he thought i
was hot.
he'd come up behind me and rub his thigh
against mine
while i was getting stuff out of my
locker.
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i'm not stupid. i knew why he
wanted me to go home with him, and i was up for it
right away.
i usually am up for it. the thing is,
i love the beginning stuff when
the guy is so
anxious and can hardly wait to be alone with me,
can hardly wait to have me touch him
. all that
expectation is very exciting. and it makes me feel
like i'm in control of the whole situation. he
needs me so much.
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but it always ends up the same
way. eventually it's clear that
what he really
needs is for me to put my mouth around his dick.
after a minute or two of this i become anonymous.
to the guy and to myself. andrew (or whoever) is
lost inside himself, waiting to be shaken by his
own little volcano, and i'm thinking, who is this
girl kneeling on the floor with some weird guy's
bone in her mouth?
it's like i'm not even there
anymore.
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it all started in the eighth
grade. that year all of a sudden you had to have a
boyfriend -- you had to, or you just felt
worthless. my best friends, melissa and allie, and
i spent hours talking about how to get guys to
like us.
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melissa was the first one to
figure out a foolproof method. allie and i were
disgusted when she confessed to us why tim
mcilhenny was following her around like an
imprinted duck. but after a few weeks of listening
to melissa's detailed instructions, we both
decided to give it a try. who knew? obviously,
the
way to an eighth-grade boy's heart was through the
zipper of his jeans
. it probably wasn't the only
way, but it was the only way we knew.
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tony phillips was my slave for
two months. he even took me to the christmas dance
that year. some days i felt like a princess and
some days
i felt like a prostitute
, but every day
i felt popular.
i went from tony to chris to evan.
and kept on going. melissa assured allie and me
that lots of other girls were doing the same thing
we were
(although i never knew who), which is what
i planned to tell my parents if they ever found
out. but they never did.
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in high school things changed --
at least for melissa and allie. they took honors
clases, joined the student council and the field
hockey team, and got real boyfriends who stuck
around for a while. we didn't hang out so much
anymore. for me there was always another guy, and
then another. i don't know why things changed for
them but not for me. what i do know is that after
a week or so with a guy, even somebody i was crazy
about to begin with, i couldn't stand him anymore.
with andrew it took only three days.
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that's what we were arguing about
in blessingame park.
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"you liked me well enough on
tuesday," he said.
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"yeah, well, today is thursday,"
i told him. "a lot can happen in two days."
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"like what? you're with somebody
else now?"
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"jesus, andrew, i was never with
you! did you think we were engaged?"
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"
screw you, sandy
."
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i gave him a forlorn look. "oh, i
bet you wish you could!"
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his face turned bright red, and
his nose twisted up so i could see into his
nostrils. "
you are such a slut!
" he shrieked, his
voice breaking into a falsetto over the horror
that was me.
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just about that time i noticed
the walker coming up the hill in back of andrew.
he must have heard andrew shrieking at me, because
he was staring right at us. without really
thinking about it too much, i waved at him and
yelled out, "hey! i've been waiting for you!"
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he looked surprised, but he
didn't say anything. his hair was flopping into
his face as if he hadn't had a haircut in ages.
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"come here!" i yelled again. i
thought, if he came over, great; if not, i was no
worse off.
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andrew turned to see who i was
talking to. "what are you calling him over for?"
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"because!" god, andrew not only
couldn't take a hint -- he couldn't take a
brickbat to the head.
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the walker strode over and stood
next to me, his eyes asking what this was all
about. andrew backed up to stare -- the walker was
quite a bit taller. "i know you. you're that guy
who just wanders around town all the time."
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"yeah, i walk around a lot. who
are you?"
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andrew sputtered. "well, why
should i tell you?"
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"you shouldn't. you should
probably just leave."
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ha! he got it! he was following
my lead!
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"i should leave?" andrew stood
there with his mouth flapping in the breeze.
repartee is not his strong suit. "i mean, you're
the one who should leave. right?" he looked at me.
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i was so sick of this guy. how
could i have spent three entire afternoons with
him? i stepped closer to the walker and put my
hand on his wrist. "actually, no, he shouldn't," i
said. i could feel the muscles tighten in his arm,
but he didn't move.
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once again, andrew couldn't get
his mind around a complete thought. "what? you
don't mean...do you mean...no way!"
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the walker placed his hand over
my hand, but he didn't say anything.
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finally, andrew had had enough.
"i don't know why i ever went out with you anyway,
sandy.
derek told me you were a bitch, and he was
right
!"
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"
bite me, andrew
!" i yelled back.
"derek is as pathetic as you are." derek. last
week's loser. another guy i never should have
gotten involved with.
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andrew stalked out of the park
and down front street.
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as soon as andrew was out of
sight, the walker let go of my hand and i released
his arm.
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"thanks," i said. "sorry about
that."
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he shrugged again. "no problem."
and he started to walk away.
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"hold on. can we talk a minute?
or something?" two minutes ago i'd decided to
swear off boys -- i didn't need the aggravation --
and then the walker showed up. it's so easy for me
to get interested in a boy; all he has todo is
look at me. not that the walker had actually
looked at me, but he was sort of my superhero
savior. or he would have been if andrew had been
evil instead of just a creep.
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"i like to keep moving," he said.
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"well, can i walk with you a
little while?"
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he didn't say anything, but then
he gave another shrug -- apparently this was his
primary means of communication, the i-don't-care
shrug. it wasn't exactly a warm invitation, but i
took it anyway, and we started walking out of the
park in the opposite direction from the one that
andrew had taken.
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"i've seen you walking around
town," i said.
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"i guess everybody has."
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"how come you walk so much?"
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another shrug. "i like walking. i
notice things."
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he didn't seem to be noticing me
all that much. "what's your name?"
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he shook his head. "it's not
important."
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i laughed. "it must be some
regular, common name then, because if it was as
stupid as my name, it would be very important,
believe me."
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he looked at me for the first
time -- at least i'd accomplished that. "why?
what's your name?"
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normally i dread this moment when
meeting somebody new, but this time i was glad i
had something to say that would get his attention,
maybe even stop the walker in his tracks.
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"sandpiper hollow ragsdale."
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a hint of a smile crossed his
face, but he kept on walking. "did you just make
that up?"
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"i wish! that's my honest-to-god
name. hollow in the middle, like a cheap chocolate
easter bunny." i've used that line many times --
it usually gets a laugh.
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he smiled again, but not in my
direction. "your parents must have had a good
reason for naming you that. or an odd sense of
humor."
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"both. they met on this beach on
cape cod called sandpiper hollow. colleen stepped
on a broken shell and cut her foot. love walked in
and kissed her boo-boo, and they named their
firstborn child after the unforgettable moment."
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the walker nodded. "makes a good
story."
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"yeah, with a terrible ending!
just because two people manage to make a baby, i
don't think they should have the right to give it
a name that's just an inside joke between the two
of them, which, once they get divorced, won't be
all that funny anymore."
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"parents divorced?"
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"years ago. a sandpiper is a
bird, you know."
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"i know."
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"i guess i'm lucky they didn't
name me nuthatch or buzzard or something."
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"or woodpecker," the walker said.
hey, he could make a joke.
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"or cuckoo," i continued.
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"or cedar waxwing."
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"cedar what?"
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"cedar waxwing."
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"that's a bird? i never heard of
that one. i kind of like it though. hello, my name
is cedar waxwing. i like it!"
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the walker pointed toward an old
broken wire fence behind a new ranch house. "did
you know there's an old rail bed back there? you
can follow it from hammond all the way up to
barlow."
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"no, i didn't know that." i hated
being interrupted when i was on a roll about the
injustice of my name.
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"i walk it at least once a week."
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"the whole thing? it must be five
or six miles."
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"seven and a half each way," he
said.
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"why?"
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of course, he answered with a
shrug. "why not?"
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i sighed. he liked being a
puzzle. and he certainly didn't seem interested in
me. maybe he wasn't worth the effort. "don't you
drive anywhere? how old are you?"
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his head jerked up as if he'd
seen something in the road, but there was no
traffic on this street in the middle of the
afternoon. finally he said, "i'm eighteen, but i
don't drive. i don't even ride in cars."
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"what? you're crazy!"
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he glanced at me and smiled. i
liked that smile. "probably," he said. "i hate
cars."
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"how can you hate cars! in four
weeks i can get my license. i'm counting the days!
i'll be free!"
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"walking gives you freedom."
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i shook my head. "it's not the
same."
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he was quiet for a moment. then
he said, "so, people call you sandy."
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"how do you know that?"
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"that's the name your...your
friend used."
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"first of all, that jerk is not
my friend. and second, i hate the name sandy. it's
the name of little orphan annie's dog. the kids at
school use it, but i make my parents call me
sandpiper since they're the ones who stuck me with
the name to begin with."
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i swear a little grunt of
laughter escaped from the guy. "so, that wasn't
your boyfriend, huh?"
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my face crinkled in disgust. "boyfriend?
god, no.
he's just somebody i hooked
up with for a few days
. i hardly
even know him. he's nobody."
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but the walker had stopped
listening to me; he'd actually stopped walking. he
bent down to the street to examine some black
lines. "somebody put on their brakes really hard
here. took the corner too fast. these skid marks
weren't here yesterday." he shook his head. "this
is a blind corner too. i hope nobody got hurt."
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i looked around. "i don't think
i've ever been on this street."
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"we're just down from davis
avenue. you know, you better go on back. i'll lead
you right out of town if you're not careful." he
stood up and stared at me with eyes that were
suddenly dull, like the lights had gone off behind
them.
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"i don't care! i like walking --
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he shook his head and looked back
down at the tire marks. "not today."
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"really! i can -- "
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"no! go back now," he ordered. he
seemed to be shivering. even though it wasn't
cold, he zipped up his coat. "maybe i'll see you
another time."
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"well, i mean, where?" dammit. my
skinny hero was brushing me off.
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a shrug. "you'll see me." he
started across the side street.
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"i don't even know your name," i
said.
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"you don't need to," he called
back. "i'll remember yours."
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black and white
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look more closely -- you're
missing
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the mystery. my behavior
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is no more my story
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than a chalk outline on pavement.
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if you were a cat, you would be
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black and white, not entirely
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unlucky, but suspicious anyway.
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not a loner, just alone.
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look more closely -- i'm dressed
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in bright red so i won't
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disappear! please confess
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if you hear me or see me.
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if you were a cat, you would
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see through me, front to back,
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my sighs and wonders. black
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and white, you would not run.
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-- sandpiper hollow ragsdale
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copyright i? 1/2 2005 by ellen
wittlinger
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continues...
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excerpted from sandpiper by ellen
wittlinger copyright i? 1/2 2005 by ellen wittlinger.
excerpted by permission. all rights reserved. no
part of this excerpt may be reproduced or
reprinted without permission in writing from the
publisher. excerpts are provided by dial-a-book
inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to
this web site.
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