Map of the Heart

Oh, good God. She had nearly hit someone with a brick. Then everybody would be calling her a killer, too.

Horrified, she yanked open the door and clattered down the dark, dank-smelling stairs. Maybe she could run away before the someone saw her. Maybe if she ran really fast, the victim of her falling bricks wouldn’t see her.

She pushed at the door at the base of the lighthouse and burst outside. It was nearly dark now. She sprinted over to the break in the fence, threw herself on the ground to crawl under. Before she could escape, she came face-to-face with a worn-out sneaker.

“You almost hit me,” the kid repeated.

She recoiled, scrambling backward and leaping to her feet. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know you were there.” She brushed off her jeans, studying him until recognition struck. “You’re Tarek,” she said. He had enrolled in school fairly recently, along with several of his brothers and sisters. They were a family of refugees, being sponsored by some people in town.

Tarek was in ninth grade, and he was even less popular than Julie. She took a perverse comfort in that. Some of the kids said rotten things about him, like he was a terrorist and stuff. He didn’t seem bothered by the insults; maybe because he didn’t understand.

Or maybe it was because the things he had seen in his homeland were a million times worse than a bunch of dumb kids teasing.

“And you are Julie Adams,” he said.

“That’s me. I didn’t mean to drop anything on you.”

“It is A-OK.”

“The sign says no trespassing,” she pointed out.

“And yet here you are.”

“I’ve been coming here all my life,” she said.

“Does that make you legit?”

“Makes me a native.”

“Makes you a trespasser.”

She shrugged. “Only if I get caught.” She grabbed the chain-link fence and crawled under it, then stood up and turned back to look at him. She felt self-conscious as she brushed herself off again. He was probably staring at her giant fat butt.

He was paying no attention to her at all. He simply opened the gate and stepped outside.

“Hey,” she said, “how did you get that unlocked?”

He turned and snapped the padlock in place. “Very simple. It’s a four-digit combination. I guessed the combination.”

“How’d you do that?”

He gestured at the lighthouse itself. Over the door were the numbers 1824—the year it was established. “Sometimes it is best to start with the obvious.”

Tarek was cool. She liked him. It surprised her that she liked him, because lately she hated everyone. And everyone hated her right back.

“The first time I climbed the lighthouse, I was nine years old,” she said. “One of my mom’s friends told me my dad was up in heaven, so I thought if I climbed to a high place I might be close enough to see him.” After she said this, she felt foolish.

He didn’t seem as if he found her ridiculous. He thought for a moment, then said, “My father is also gone. He was arrested, taken away right in the middle of a class he was teaching, and we never saw him again.”

“That’s terrible.”

He nodded.

“So your father was a teacher.”

“He taught English.”

They sat on a big rock, looking out at the water. The colors of twilight pooled on the surface and melded with the sky. Tarek watched a gull take flight. “I saw what happened to you in surf rescue class.”

Her stomach clenched. “It was an accident.”

“I don’t think so. Unless you would call Vanessa Larson chasing you an accident.”

“It’s a free-for-all during drills,” she insisted, cringing at the memory. Once Vanessa’s dad started dating Julie’s mom, Vanessa had turned everyone against her. At first the teasing had been subtle—digs about Julie’s weight, her braces, her glasses. Then it had caught on, and before long, other kids piled on. Finally, after Julie’s mom broke up with Vanessa’s dad, it became an all-out campaign against Julie.

“You’re a good swimmer,” she said, trying to change the subject. “Where did you learn?”

He was quiet for a moment. “While on my way to Turkey. It was sink or swim.”

She suspected there was a lot more to the story.

“You are a good swimmer, too,” he stated. “That is how I know you didn’t have an accident.”

“Just drop it, okay?” She tried to divert him again. “So are you staying in Bethany Bay for the summer?” Maybe, just maybe, they would hang out.

“No. We are leaving as soon as the school year ends. We are going to Canada to see my grandparents. Their sponsor family is in Toronto.”

Thus killing off her one shot at making a friend.

“What about you?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. Summers used to mean endless beach days, bike riding with her friends, staying up late, bonfires and campouts. She had no idea what she’d do with herself this coming summer, other than look at the Internet and wish she had a different life.

“I have to go,” Tarek said abruptly. “See you tomorrow in school, yes?”

“Sure,” she said, the back of her neck prickling at the idea of school. “See you around.”

She took her time walking back home. The house was lonely and empty. There was a note on the counter: Went to pick up Billy at the ferry. We’re going to First Thursday. Want to come?

No, Julie didn’t want to come to the First Thursday walkabout. She might run into the very kids she was trying to avoid. Frustrated, she yanked open the pantry door, looking for something to eat.

Her mom never had chips and cookies in the house anymore. Julie knew it was because she was fat. She didn’t use to be. She poured a bowl of cereal—whole grain, sugar-free—and added plenty of sugar and milk. Then she took it up to her room and stared at her phone while she was eating, looking up kids from her school. Vanessa Larson had the most followers. She immediately attracted attention because she was not only the daughter of the school principal, she was drop-dead gorgeous and had giant boobs.

Julie decided that if she didn’t have to go to school, her life wouldn’t suck so much. Last year, some kid had gotten himself expelled for bringing a Colt .45 to school. Boom—he was gone in a matter of minutes.

Julie didn’t have a firearm to bring to school. She wouldn’t dream of it, even if she did have one. But if she could find a way to never go back to that school again she would grab on to it.

There was homework. She flipped open her binder. She looked at the top page of the binder and recoiled. Someone had drawn a caricature of her, making her look like a hippo in a tutu. The caption read Hungry Hungry Julie.