eason for my every breath。
That's what had happened when I was twelve and dedicated my soul to the god of dark places。 By the time I was seventeen； I was a dedicated servant to the one I worshipped。
And the only thing I asked of this divinity was：
Give me Jenna。
I found a cat over in town； and with just a pen knife； offered its soul to my god。
9
I'll tell you now； that it's safe； what really happened the summer that I discovered purity … genuine purity … in the shit of human existence。 I can see myself as I was then； handsome； young； even pretty in a way with my thick hair falling to either side of my face； my blue eyes sharp； yes； but expectant。 My shirt is an Izod； a preppie affectation … my mother never wanted me to look like the other islanders； she wanted something better for me； as did I。 Khakis； no socks； Topsiders or sandals … my face burning from the beginnings of summer sun； my heart racing。 It's no longer me as I am； it's that boy； that boy who is almost eighteen； a man at this point； a man who has nearly won in life。
I； he； you； it doesn't matter what I call that boy…man； he just is； I can feel his breath； I can smell the Old Spice on him； I can practically see the cap on his front tooth that cost his father a pretty penny after he fell and chipped it in sixth grade while he was running … I can practically see the fog lift between this day and that one。
He watches for her。
Chapter Two
Memorial Day； restless nights； and an open window
1
Let me take you there。
Fly like a bird over the crotch of New England … that place where Rhode Island clutches at its small corner between Massachusetts and Connecticut； and out to the Sound； across the scattering of islands and islets and outlands until you see the One Man Rocks； the places where misanthropists going by the name of New Englanders lived two to three per islet … and then； beyond the beyond； as my mother would say； thar she blows … Outerbridge； Outerbridge； Outerbridge。 The name conjures up older names； and for me … or for him； for the me who was； Owen Crites； the Dutch fighting the Indians； the pirates burying treasure beneath the land； and the people who built the walls。 It even conjures all the names it must have had before； when the gods themselves had granted it some secret name。 If Owen had known the secret name； he might have had power over it； but as it was； the island was master； and all who occupied its ground； servants。
The island's history began eons ago when some glacial giant swept the rocks and earth into the Atlantic and the world grew up around it。 The Pequot and Narragansett Indians held it against the Dutch for as long as they could； and then the Brits wrested it for themselves。 The island never provided much in the way of existence for any of its inhabitants； all that's left of the early English settlers were walls made of stone and foundations of cottages that speckle the northern end of Outerbridge （originally called a Dutch name that had sounded to the English like Outerbridge although there was a movement afoot among the summer residents to restore the old Pequot name for the place。） The largest beach； called the Serpentine by the British for its snaky shape； runs the western length。 A Victorian Wedding Cake House called the Mohegan； converted in recent years to a twenty room hotel； sits perched on the main bluff overlooking the most public part of the Serpentine。 On either side are the summer homes … the large and the ordinary； and the woods all mixed in and winding through them。 More than half the roads on Outerbridge were still dirt； there was no McDonald's； no 7…11； and only two stoplights between the three townships。
Spring shat out of winter in New England … and along the uneven row of islands called the Avalons that skirted Connecticut； Rhode Island； and a bare tip of Massachusetts； it was a heavy crap of rain and then sun and then rain and finally sun … the merciless summer sun which never left until two weeks after Labor Day。 Outerbridge had it the worse； for the two other large Avalons … and the smaller rocky ledges called islets that formed part of the coastal barrier against the Atlantic … got the good weather first； or else no one much lived there to care。
Outerbridge； the furthest up the coastline was more narrow than wide … six miles long； two…and…a…half miles wide … with bluffs to the south and north； the Great Salt Pond at its center； the Wequetaket swamps in the lower points to the east； there are two hundred and fifty three summer residents； there are seventy…five in the winter； most of them over sixty。 At the height of winter's cruelty； helicopters e in with supplies。 That sounds outrageous； but it's true； for Outerbridge is further from the mainland than even the Vineyard and Nantucket to the north … it is beyond beyond beyond； and there is no crossing easily。 The historic landmarks are South Light and North Light； the two lighthouses that still work； sentries at either end of the island； Old Town； or Old Town Harbor as the old…timers call it； is at the southern tip； Quonnoquet Haven； with its bluffs and spectacular view of what they call the Big Nothing； where even the mainland is unseen in the distance； lays to the north of the island This particular day was the glinting kind。 Sun glinted off the Sound； and even the virgin leaves on the wet trees … and the bark； too … all of it spattered light refracted through the hangover of the night of rain so recently over。 He hated it … he hated the end of winter； because it was usually the end of control within his parents house。 His mother had been in bed for most of it； nursing imagined traumas； while his father had spent his hours away from home； either working as a handyman and gardener at the Big House； or in town or down to Old Town Harbor for drinks with his friends。
Owen Crites looked to summer for one thing； and one thing only。 It would be the arrival of Jenna Montgomery； and that would mean that his misery； his feeling of loneliness would vanish。
It was a singular obsession of his。
She was purity。
2
〃Hi；〃 he said to her when he was six。
〃Hi；〃 she replied。 But she hadn't needed to。 She was six and all ringlets and ribbons and party dress。
〃Owen；〃 he said。
〃I know。 Hank's your daddy。〃
The fact that she called his father by his first name shocked Owen。 No other child called a parent by the first name。 It was taboo。 And to call his father 〃Hank〃 and not 〃Henry〃 seemed far too familiar。
〃I know where you live；〃 she added； an afterthought。
〃Here；〃 he said； meaning her property。
〃In my yard；〃 she said。 〃You have the big goldfish pond。〃
〃Koi；〃 he corrected her。
〃And all the roses my mommy loves；〃 she said； and then took him by the hand and brought him into her world … the birthday party； the children from New York； the pony rides on the bluffs； the smoked turkey sandwiches； the games of pin…the…tail； and the dance。 He had been woefully under… dressed in a torn pair of jeans and a t…shirt。 The other boys all wore white shirts and little ties； their hair glistened with gel。 The girls were in puffy dresses and glittery shoes。 He had no gift for her then。 It had panicked him midway through the party。
He went and found a gift she had not yet unwrapped； and he threw away the other child's card。 On the wrapping paper； he scrawled … Hapy Birthday from Owen。 As it turned out； the gift was a small hand puppet； and Owen took it from Jenna and began doing something that he didn't even know he could do。
He threw his voice； so it sounded as if the puppet were speaking without Owen's lips moving。
When it was found out what he had done； he was punished； but even Mrs。 M mented to Owen's mother about her son's delightful talent。
But forget that for now； forget it。 Years passed； punishment was the result of knowledge。 Smart people punished themselves； his older self knew。 All people with brains received punishment。
He knew better than to reveal secrets。
He waited for her； watching the Sound for the ferry on the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend。
3
His eyes turned to slits against the western sun； it was the last ferry of the day； and he couldn't find her or her parents among those on