Daily Field Journal of Annie Johnston Monday, July 5Location: Beach outside Gray Nathanson’s House.Cover: Reading the Sandpiper newspaper; Ally is napping next to me.Observations:5:35 p.m.: Subject Gray Nathanson returns from driving his daughter, Subject Quinn Nathanson, to theater for rehearsal. Uniform: white shorts, light blue T-shirt, sunglasses. Subject whistles and twirls his keys as he walks up the stairs. Subject Mrs. Ryan opens the door with a huge smile. Uniform: one-piece bathing suit, linen cover-up, no makeup. Subject encircles Mrs. Ryan in hug. The two go at it like a couple of teenagers. (Note: Sickening.) They glance over at the beach, see no one’s watching . (Note: Ha!) He picks her up and carries her inside. They kiss all the way up the stairs to the bedroom, where he slams the door with his foot. (Note: Shudder.) (Assessment: Dr. Nathanson and Mrs. Ryan are in deep. Also, it’s a good thing Ally snored through that.)5:47 p.m.: Subject Hammond Ross appears on the beach. Uniform: plaid bathing suit, white T-shirt, visor. He starts walking toward us. Sees me. Pauses. Turns. Takes a few steps toward us. Pauses. Takes his visor off. Scratches at his hair. Puts his visor back on. Turns around. Lopes back in the direction from which he came. (Assessment: My very presence makes Hammond Ross nervous. Score.)

I had to work at noon on Tuesday and I got there at exactly 11:59. I figured if I had to get right on “the floor,” as everyone called it, Mr. Ryan wouldn’t have time to yell at me. I was wrong.“Jake.”His voice sounded just like Coach’s when he’s fed up over the team’s lack of effort.“Hey,” I said, turning around. He stood in the doorway to the back room, holding the door open with his foot. I tried to look him in the eye, but he was seriously pissed, and I ended up looking at the blinking smoke alarm over his head.“May I see you a moment, please?”He was talking without totally opening his mouth. Something else Coach did.“Uh.” I looked over my shoulder for an out. “Don’t you need me to—”“Now.”I swallowed. “Okay.”As I walked past him into the back room, I ducked my head away from him. My palms were sweating, so I wiped them on my shorts. He let the door slam, which was something he told all of us never to do. Something about startling already caffeine-jittery customers.“Have a seat.”I sat in the metal chair next to his desk, which creaked and leaned sideways. My stomach swooped and I pressed my toes firmly into the tile floor to keep from going over. On his desk was an open notebook with equations scribbled all over it, and a study guide with the words “Securities Training Corporation” across the top.“I’m not even going to ask for an explanation,” he began. He stood in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes skimmed the cuts on my knuckles, and I stuffed my hands under my arms. “Because there is no explanation for what you did. Leaving here in the middle of your shift is unacceptable, do you understand me?”I nodded. “Yes, sir.”“Because of what you did, Keisha had to work out your shift, which meant she had to call in a sitter to take care of her son last minute,” he continued, not moving a muscle. Unless you counted that scary throbbing vein off the corner of his left eye. “That’s money out of her pocket so that you can act like an irresponsible jerk. Do you think that’s fair, Jake?”I stared at him. Did he really want me to answer?“Do you?”Guess so.“Um, no?”“You don’t sound entirely certain about that,” he said. “So let me make this clear for you. If you intend to continue working here, I need you to be entirely certain about it. So. Was what you did fair to your coworkers?”My face was burning like I’d gone out front and laid it down on the espresso machine. I stared at the emergency exit behind his head.“No,” I said.“No. I didn’t think so.” He turned around and walked toward the far wall, where he’d hung up all these inspirational posters. The one he was standing in front of was red with white letters and said, YOUR WORK REFLECTS ON YOU. TAKE PRIDE IN YOURSELF.“I know you kids hate to hear this, but you’re almost an adult now,” he said quietly. He looked half over his shoulder at me. “So you really need to ask yourself one question. Is this the person you really want to be?”I’ve had stingers in my calf before, and they kill. They just knock me over right where I’m running. But that was the first time I got a stinger in my chest. Between this, and what Ally had said to me yesterday . . . I mean, I’d always thought I was just fine the way I was. Actually, I’d never really thought about it at all. So why the fuck did people suddenly feel the need to make me think about it?“I’m really sorry, Mr. Ryan. It won’t happen again.”This was what my mother had told me to say. When I’d left the house, I told myself I’d never say it. But now, I actually meant it.“Thank you for that,” he said. He turned fully around now, and looked at the floor. He looked sad all of a sudden. Had I actually made a grown man sad? “Just think before you act, Jake. That’s all you need to do. Believe me. I know. One impetuous decision . . . and your whole life goes off the track.”All right. Enough was enough. It was one half of one shift. And who the hell was he to tell me how to live? He’d left his whole family and not looked back.“I get that, sir,” I said, my voice all tense. “But it’s just a part-time job. How is messing up once going to screw up my whole life?”He glowered at me. I’d heard that word before, but never really knew what it meant. It meant someone’s eyebrows came together and their forehead got all scrunched, and their eyes got all narrow and their face was both yellow and red at once. Basically, it meant he looked like he wanted to kill me.“Well, it’s at least going to screw up your week,” he said. He went to the broom closet and yanked out this gross mop with gray strands of curled rope dangling heavily toward the floor. “Because as of right now, you’re on janitor duty.” He threw the mop at me. I stood up and caught it, but it still almost took off my ear. “Go clean the bathroom. And when you’re done with that, there are about ten bags of garbage that need hauling out to the back.”When he stormed out, he let the door slam. Again.I took out my phone. Thinking about Ally, about the way he’d left them, about how small she used to look whenever I talked about him . . . I didn’t want her to look that way when she thought of me too.I opened up my messenger and hit her name. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I held my breath, and typed.I rly am sry. Just wanted u 2 kno.Then I hesitated for a second and added one word.Friends?I closed my eyes and hit send before I could rethink it.

Daily Field Journal of Annie Johnston Friday, July 9Position: Across the street from Shannen Moore’s house.Cover: Pretending the chain came off my bike—I’m on my knees, fiddling with the wheel. As if I have a clue.Observations:9:05 a.m.: Subject Shannen Moore and her mother come out the front door shouting at each other. Which is, of course, why I stopped here. Shannen’s uniform: plaid boxers, gray tank top, no bra, messy hair. Mom’s uniform: sensible jeans, sensible shoes, sensible T-shirt, Louis Vuitton luggage.Mom: I told you last night to be up by eight. It’s not my fault you don’t listen.Shannen: I thought you were kidding! We cannot stay with them!Mom throws her very expensive bags into the back of her car and slams the door.Mom: Shannen, please. I’m exhausted.Shannen: I’m not going .Mom: Yes. You are.Shannen: No. I’m not.Mom: Yes. You are.Shannen: No. I. Am. Not.(Personal note: Is Shannen FIVE?)Mom (so loud it scares two squirrels out of the nearby tree): YES YOU ARE!Subject Shannen is so startled I’m about ninety-nine percent sure she starts to tear up. (Personal Note: The bitch can cry???)Mom (more calmly): You have exactly five minutes to throw as much as you can into a bag and get back down here. I’ll be waiting in the car.Subject Shannen looks away. Her leg bounces. She opens her mouth, closes it, moves her jaw around. Her mother gets in the car and closes the door. Subject Shannen groans. More squirrels flee. She goes inside and slams the door. Mrs. Moore adjusts her rearview mirror and spots me. I casually get on my bike and ride up the hill, where I hide behind one of the Cornwallaces’ massive rhododendrons.9:13 a.m.: Mrs. Moore pulls out of the driveway.Subject Shannen is in the passenger seat. Sulking.9:15 a.m.: I come out of hiding. As I pass by the Moores’ house, a curtain in one of the windows flutters closed.(Assessment: Mrs. Moore and Shannen just left Mr. Moore. And he did zilch to stop them.)