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EIGHT

T he afternoon sun is heating up, so the boys have gathered closer to the boardwalk, taking refuge in its shade. They cluck and giggle and spar, sometimes sweetly, sometimes sharply, each taking his turn as the target of the group’s barbs. But the ritual is never cruel, only clever, and running under it all is a current of committed friendship that Eddie can feel. Thankfully, they never toss their darts at Eddie. Maybe they’re treating him gently because he’s new. Maybe because he’s here with Francis. Or maybe it’s just luck.

Whatever the reason, he’s grateful. He doubts he’ll ever be able to keep up with the pace of their wit even if he did know all the slang and shorthand, which he doesn’t. For now, he’s happy to listen, spread out in the shade, just a few feet away from the boys.

Currently, they are arguing about when exactly the bathhouse and concessions opened out here, and when the ferry started running, and what was here before all of that. It was a fishing village, Buzzy says, and oystering. No, not oystering, Vincent says (at least Eddie thinks it’s Vincent, but he doesn’t look over so he can’t be sure). Oystering’s been banned out here for thirty years. Not so, says Charlie (at least Eddie thinks it’s Charlie). That ban was only for the Jamaica Bay side, not out here. And besides, who ever did any oystering here on the ocean side? The waves and currents would make it almost impossible. But Charlie insists that he’s right, because his father was an oysterman. I always knew you were an oyster princess, Gabriel says. Oyster queen, Charlie corrects, and collector of pearls. More like pearl necklaces, Vincent says, and everyone laughs. Even Eddie understands that joke.

After a while a few of the boys race down to the water, and the others climb up onto the boardwalk to chase down a man selling cupfuls of water from a cart for a penny. They deputize Eddie to stay put and keep an eye on the blankets and buckets.

Eddie turns onto his side and notices a small group of people on a blanket down the beach, not too far away, gathered around a small patch of dune grass. Maybe thirty yards off. A family, it looks like. A different kind from the one he’s sitting with right now. A more typical kind. A woman, a man, and three kids. The man and woman are leaning up against each other, back to back, as the young ones play in the sunshine. They look so peaceful, Eddie thinks. Happy. He closes his eyes.

Soon he feels a sprinkle of sand on his foot. Just the breeze, he figures. He reaches down to brush it off without opening his eyes. Another sprinkle, another brush. Eyes still closed.

Another sprinkle, only this time, it’s accompanied by a giggle. So he looks up. It’s a little girl, no more than seven, wearing a blue-and-white-striped swimsuit, tank-style with a skirt to her knees. She has a white swim cap on, with a daisy appliqued on one side, but it’s much too big for her. A wild poof of red hair spills out over her neck, half-wet curls reaching past her shoulders. She looks mischievous, delighted with herself, holding one hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. She is adorable, and Eddie can’t help but grin back at her. He sits up.

“Hello,” he says. He looks around for the others. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she says. “My name’s not Lost. My name is Lenore. What’s yours?”

Eddie sits up. Where are the other boys? Where is Francis? What is he supposed to do with a wayward little girl? Should he take her to someone with authority? Or just let her roam free, like the kids he saw up on the boardwalk? Then he remembers the family on the blanket he noticed a few minutes ago. They are still there, only there are just two children now. “Is that your family?” he asks, pointing.

“Yes,” she says. “Mother and Father and my silly brothers. What’s your name?”

“I’m Eddie.”

“Where did your friends go?”

“Here and there,” he says. “Some of them went swimming.”

“They should be careful,” she says. “There are whales out there. Whales as big as the bathhouse! They could be swallowed whole, and then what will you do?”

“Really!” he exclaims, playing along. “I didn’t know whales eat people.”

“Oh, they do,” she says. “But they won’t eat me because I have a flower on my head.” She points to her daisy. “They’ll say I’m too pretty.”

Eddie laughs. “Well, they wouldn’t be wrong.”

Just then Francis and Gabriel and Charlie come scrambling up the boardwalk, laughing and shouting and throwing peanuts at one another. “Hello!” Francis says, jumping down into the sand. He smiles at the little girl. “Who are you, magical creature? Where did you come from?”

“I’m Lenore,” she says. “I came from over there.” She points at the family.

“Uh-oh,” Vincent says, strolling up from the water. “Look alive, boys. Remember what happened to Sebastian and Gerald, when they found those lost kids at Coney Island and took them to the precinct, trying to be Good Samaritans. Four days in the clink for conduct unbecoming.”

Francis waves Vincent’s comment away. “She’s not lost,” he says, then turns to Lenore. “Your swimming costume is exquisite, Lenore.”

“It is?” she says.

“Very elegant,” he says. “Now, tell me, which country are you the princess of?”

“I am a princess?” she asks, tilting her head in amazement.

“Yes, I believe you are,” he says. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, looking intently at her. “In fact, I believe you are the princess of the fairies!”

“I love fairies!” she exclaims, and the boys all look at one another and try not to laugh.

“Your grace,” Francis says, his voice suddenly serious. “Your daisy is quite fetching, but you seem to have lost your crown.”

She puts her hands up to her head, feeling for a phantom crown.

Francis looks around and gathers a few stray strands of dune grass. “I will fashion one for you, if your grace will permit me.”

Lenore watches closely while Francis weaves a rough wreath from the grass. When he’s done, he places it on her head, carefully resting on the daisy. “I pronounce you Princess Lenore of the Fairy Kingdom, and I am your liege!”

“My what?”

“Your liege. It’s kind of like, well, kind of like a best friend who you can command.”

“My best friend,” she repeats, and Francis bows theatrically. He motions for the other boys to bow, too, and they do.

“Now, your highness, won’t you favor us with a twirl?” Francis asks, and Lenore does, watching her skirt as she goes to make sure it’s spinning out like a ballerina’s.

“The belle of every ball!” Francis shouts. “Princess Lenore!”

Lenore, overcome by giggles, runs back across the sand to her family. She beams as she goes. They welcome her back, and clap as she spins some more. She takes off her crown to show them. The man, presumably her father, looks over at the boys and springs to his feet.

“Shit,” Vincent says. “He sees a bunch of fairies. He’s coming over.”

“We’re not all fairies,” Charlie says. “Some of us are pansies.”

“And some of us are queers!” Gabriel says. “And queens!”

“You and your words!” Vincent says. “What are we going to do?”

But the man doesn’t come over. He just throws up a hand and waves, his grin visible from all the way over here. “Thank you!” the man shouts at the pansies and fairies and queers and queens.

“All hail Princess Lenore!” Francis shouts back, and the rest of the boys shout it, too, even Eddie. “All hail Princess Lenore!”