They say Nantucket means “the Faraway Land” in the language of the Wampanoag people. It’s 30 miles out at sea from Cape Cod, a tiny curve of land with over a hundred miles of coastline. It feels like the whole island is wrapped in beaches, all windswept dunes and white-crested waves and rambling roses. It’s a beautiful place, but I’m not sure I belong here. My father does. He’s a historian, writing a book about nautical cartography, and so he lives half in the past, unbothered by the countless wealth and privilege belonging to the other people who come here for the summer. He spends his days on a sailboat recreating old maritime techniques. He’s been coming to Nantucket for years to research his latest book, and this time — against my wishes — he’s brought me. I’m Jordan Edelman, seventeen years old, and I belong in cities and thrifted moto jackets and combat boots. I feel like I’ve been plucked out of my normal life and dropped in a land of pastels and seersucker, Alice down the rabbit hole, Dorothy in Technicolor Oz. I don’t know what to do here, in this town of blooming hyacinths and elegant grey…