The Six Rules of Maybe

special.”
    He looked at me and laughed a little like he thought I was joking. “Chocolate. Check,” he said. I could tell he still thought he was doing something for me, not for himself. He probably thought that ring on his left hand and on hers meant that he and Juliet would sit on some porch watching their children play on some lawn for years to come. But Juliet didn’t stick with things too long. I’d played the flute all through middle school and had been taking pictures forever, but Juliet went from flute to guitar to pottery to boys. Her speed wasn’t porch so much as highway. And a ring, anyway—a ring wasa declaration of hope, not a mission accomplished.
    Zeus waited in the back of the truck parked at the curb in the shade, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth like a drunk in a bad cartoon. I swear, dog tongues doubled in length on a hot day. Zeus’s toes had their new manicure from Pet Palace, which we had found all the way out of the main part of town, next door to the Rufaro School of Marimba. Zeus had walked out of there all careful and proud as if he knew he was different and more beautiful. But now he looked as if his enthusiasm was wearing thin.
    “Gotta give him some water, pronto,” Hayden said. He retrieved a large, full plastic jug behind his seat and a pale, old Tupperware bowl, used just for that purpose.
    “I’m going to pop in there a sec,” I said, as he unscrewed the water bottle lid and poured. I gestured to Randall and Stein Booksellers across the street, next to Mom’s store, Quill.
    “Sure.”
    They knew me well in there. Bonnie Randall raised her eyebrows when I set What to Expect When You’re Expecting on the counter.
    “For my sister,” I said.
    I dashed across the street with my green bag, hopped back in the truck. We were done with our errands; probably Hayden wanted to get home. But I didn’t want the time to be over yet. The day had been the kind of comfortable good fun you just wanted more of. I didn’t know when I’d had that much comfortable good fun, maybe way back when I was a kid.
    “Do you have time to see one more thing?” I said.
    “I’m not in any hurry,” he said. “I’m having a great time.”
    I took a big breath, and the day smelled especially good. “Remember Deception Loop that took us to the hotel? We get backon there.” The Horseshoe Highway was the island’s inner main road, and Deception Loop circled its outer edge, giving glimpses of the Strait of Juan de Fuca between the tall firs and evergreens that lined the road. I directed Hayden around the island, toward Point Perpetua Park. There was a preschool class having lunch at the picnic tables and an old lady with one leg in the air doing tai chi on the grass, but we passed all of them and walked down the trail toward the lighthouse. Zeus ran ahead but kept running back again to make sure we weren’t far behind him. We emerged from the trail onto a wide beach, and I led Hayden over driftwood and around rocks toward my favorite huge boulder just before the lighthouse itself. It took some climbing, but the rock was high and flat and from up on top, the view over the sound went on forever. This was one of my favorite places to take my camera. I’d come out here alone, on my own, just to watch and see what might appear. It was a great big peaceful movie that was running all the time.
    “Wow. This is some view.” Hayden sat right down, dangled his legs over the side. I lifted my camera, took quick aim, called his name. “Oh great, I’m sure my eyes were closed,” he said.
    I sat beside him. Zeus was down below, happily sniffing seaweed and exploring the mysterious crevices between driftwood logs. It was the kind of windy that makes you feel pleased and alive. “In a few weeks, the orcas will be here. This place will be packed with people. The island gets nuts. When all the tourists leave, there’s an annual ‘Thank God They’re Gone’ celebration.”
    “Invasion, huh?” Hayden said. “Well, it’s fantastic right now.” The sound gleamed, sunlight on sea, a thousand glimmery water stars. It was cool there by the water, but I knew the sun was secretly intense. I tilted my chin up, breathed the salty air that always seemed to me delicious enough to drink up.
    “No great silver steel buildings, though,” I said.
    “God architecture,” he said.
    “He knew what he was doing.”
    “And no Urban Studies final for Him either.”
    “It makes you think about all the