Last Chance Summer (2 page)

“What sort of supplies?” I ask her as we walk into the store.

“You know, supplies. Like for the plain ride.” She grabs a Special K bar off the shelf along with some granola. Next she heads to the cooler and grabs a couple of diet sodas.

“Um, don’t they give you food on the plane?”

“Ew.” She stops and turns toward me. “Plane food is so bad for you. Don’t tell me you eat that stuff.”

I shrug. “Well, I’ve never had it since I’ve never flown before. But I figured I’d at least try.”

She looks at me with a blank expression on her face. “Wait, you’ve never been on a plane before? Like,
ever?”

“Nope.”

She moves closer to me. “And you aren’t, like, totally freaking out right now from being so nervous?”

I shrug. “No. Why, am I supposed to be?”

“Oh,” she says, walking past me towards the magazine stand. “Well ,I guess it’s good that you aren’t thinking about everything that could go wrong.”

Wrong? What exactly does she mean by “wrong?”

“What exactly do you mean by wrong?”

“Oh you know, we could hit turbulence and the whole plan could start shaking.

We could get delayed and be stuck in the air for hours where we run out of gas and crash into the ocean. Or what if you get plane sick? I mean, motion sickness is one of the worst feelings ever. There’s just tons of stuff you can drive yourself crazy worrying about.

Haha. But like I said it’s totally great that you aren’t concerned with any of that. I wish I was more like you the first time I flew!” Then she grabs a COSMO and stomps up to the register to check out.

She’s clearly just trying to scare me. I mean, I know that kind of stuff does happen sometimes, but it’s only, like, once in a great while. Probably like one time in a million even. I’m sure they wouldn’t happen to me. Not my first time flying, anyway. No way. Right? Suddenly I don’t feel so good.

I glance next to me where there’s an assortment of pills for making your plane ride more comfortable, aka knocking you out in case you can’t handle whatever it is flying does to your stomach. I pick up one of the packages and start reading the back, trying to figure out which one I should get.

I’m still standing there when Arielle’s done paying. She walks over to me and half laughs. “Oh, come on! You’ll be fine. You barely feel a thing while your flying.”

Then she nudges me out of the shop.

Three hours later we land in South Carolina. My hair is a mess, my head is killing me, my heart feels like it might explode in my chest, and the barf bag in front of my seat is full.

Arielle pulls her headphones out of her ears and shrugs. “You def should have gotten some motion sickness pills. Yuck.” She scrunches her nose up in disgust.

And things are off to a great start.

Chapter Three

I wake up to the sound of Katy Perry blaring through the house. I roll over and pull the blanket over my head, groaning to myself. It takes me a minute to remember where I am, but when I do I throw the covers back off my head and sit up.

By the time we landed I was so tired and sick to my stomach that I didn’t even bother to look around the house when we got here. I just asked where my room was and headed right for it. I dropped my bags in the middle of the floor, pulled back the covers on my bed, and passed out.

Now though, I take a second to take a look around the room I’ll be living in for the next two weeks of my life. The first thing I notice is how blue the walls are. Not a light blue, but a bright royal blue. Usually I would think this type of blue is trash, but somehow in here it works. The room is huge, with hardwood floors that sparkle so much they must have just been waxed.

The room’s huge -- I could fit my room at my house back home in here about three times and still have room left over. My bed’s king-sized with sheets and a comforter so blue they almost match the walls exactly. On the right side of my bed are a couch and a big reclining chair. Both black, and both leather. Pressed up against the wall next to them stands a mini fridge and a glass cabinet stocked with chips, candy bars, PopTarts, and a variety of other snacks.

Pressed up against the wall directly in front of me is an entertainment center with huge speakers and a even bigger flat screen T.V. Off to the right is a walk-in closet, which my clothes probably won’t even fill half of. Right next to it the closet is my own bathroom. Okay, so I know I was totally miserable about coming here, but even I have to admit that I’ve never lived like this. I mean, if I’m going to be miserable I might as well do it in style, right? I slowly get out of bed, open my door, and poke my head out. No one’s in sight but I can still hear the music blaring. It’s coming from downstairs, where I assume Arielle must be having her own private dance party or something.

I slowly make my way down the stairs. I glance down at my socks, nervous that even the slightest bit of dirt could mess up the perfect white carpet.

When I reach the bottom of the steps I turn into the living room. It’s done in light yellow, with huge couches and a T.V even bigger than the one in my room. It’s empty but as I look around my Aunt Jenna walks into the room.

“Hey, sleepy girl!” she says, beaming.

I laugh. “I guess the flight wore me out a little.”

“I guess so. It’s almost two o’clock.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry, have you guys been up long?”

My aunt shakes her head. “Not me. Arielle never went to sleep though, she usually doesn’t once she gets here. She’s way too excited.”

I nod but my aunt keeps talking.

“Anyway, I’m going to get changed and then meet some of my friends for a game of tennis and drinks. Arielle’s in the kitchen. She said something about you guys going to lunch with some of her friends so she could show you around a bit.”

I smile. “That should be fun.”

“I thought so, too,” she says walking past me and toward the stairs. “I’ll see you later, okay, honey?”

I turn around and look at her as she walks up the stairs. “Yeah, sure.”

After she’s out of sight I sigh and make my way into the kitchen. It’s by far the largest room in the house – at least, from what I’ve seen so far. It’s painted all white with beautiful brown and white countertops that sparkle.

There’s an island in the middle of the room with tall stools that spin around.

Arielle’s standing by the sink and there’s a tiny girl with bleach blonde hair sitting across from her.

“Yo, no Mountain Dew?” a voice asks, and a boy with dark brown hair pokes his head out of the fridge.

Arielle sighs and runs her hand through her long blonde hair. “Ew, do you even know how bad that shit is for you?”

The brown-haired boy grunts then shuts the fridge. “I can’t drink anything else.”

“Why not?” the girl sitting down asks.

The boy looks at her as if this is a stupid question. “I just can’t.”

I clear my throat to make my presence known and Arielle looks up and meets my eyes.

“Morgan! About time, I thought for sure you’d sleep the day away!” she says.

She’s wearing pink shorts with a white halter top that shows a little bit of her perfectly flat and tan stomach. Her hair is straight and her make-up is flawless. If I didn’t know it for a fact, I never would have believed she’d just spent hours on a plane.

“This,” she says to me, “is Lauren and Mike. Guys, this is my cousin Morgan, the one I was telling you about from New York.”

The girl sitting down nods and smiles. “How was the flight?” Then her and Arielle start laughing before I can answer.

I look at them, confused, and then Arielle meets my gaze. “I was telling them about what happened to you on the plane. You know, what with it being your first time flying and all.”

“Totally understandable,” Lauren tells me. “The same thing happened to me the first time I flew.”

“It did?” I asked, surprised.

“Well, no,” she admits, “but I thought I’d be nice.” She’s wearing a black bikini with a white lace top over it that doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. I look down at the yoga pants and sweatshirt I’m still wearing, and remind myself to try and find something in my bags that could possibly help me pass for living here.

“Do you like Mountain Dew?” Mike asks, looking right at me.

“Um, I guess.”

“See! Most people have it.” He says it like he can’t believe this type of thing is happening to him.

“We can get you Mountain Dew,” Lauren tells him.

“We can?” Mike asks hopefully.

“No,” Arielle says, “not until later. We have a busy day.”

“But I want it NOW!”

Arielle sighs. “Morgan, did you see the pool yet? It’s beautiful.”

I glance out the glass doors off the kitchen and see a huge patio with long chairs and the biggest inground pool I’ve ever seen.

I grab a bagel off the island and shake my head. “I think I’m going to check it out.” But no one seems to hear me as I open the back door and slip outside.

The first thing I feel is the heat. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. We must have central air inside the house, because I feel like I’m starting to sweat almost immediately. I hold my bagel in one hand and do my best to pull my sweatshirt off with the other, until I’m left in my pink tank top and yoga pants.

I set my sweatshirt down and start to roll my yoga pants up the best I can with one hand.

“Not from around here, are you?”

The voice startles me and I jump back a little. It takes me a second to realize where the voice is coming from. There’s a boy standing in the shallow end of the pool.

The first thing I notice about him is his abs. And when I say abs, I don’t mean ‘oh those are nice abs’, I mean they could quite possibly be the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen up close. His hair is dark brown and wet from the water and his face is flawless. This kid is model status, and I can’t help but notice that my heart catches in my chest a little bit.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask.

He laughs and sinks his body a little further into the water. “Maybe. So let me guess? New York?”

I look at him for a second before I answer. “Good guess. Are you just naturally good at this game or do you meet a lot of tourists?”

A smirk comes over his face. “A little bit of both.”

I walk to the water’s edge and sit down, dipping my feet into the water. It’s nice and warm. I can’t tell if the pool’s heated or if it’s just so hot out that it feels this amazing on its own.

“So what part of New York are you from? City girl?”

“Ah, nothing that exciting, I’m afraid. Ithaca.”

“I thought so. You don’t have that city attitude we’re used to seeing around here.” Then, before I can answer, he disappears underwater and starts swimming toward the deep end of the pool where I’m sitting.

“So,” he says when he emerges a few feet from me, “does the girl from New York NOT city have a name?”

I smile. “Morgan. And you are?”

“We-lll,” he says, “I’ve been called a lot of things but hopefully you’ll stick to Alex.”

“Well, I guess I can handle that. If you stay on my good side, that is.”

He smiles and starts to swim toward the ladder. “I’ll do my best.”

He reaches the ladder and climbs up. His body’s dripping wet and he grabs a towel off one of the lounge chairs and starts to dry off.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” I tell him.

He stops drying off and looks at me as if he’s interested in what I have to say next. “Is that right?”

I nod. “I’m not going to tell on you.”

He looks amused. “Tell on me?”

“Yeah, you know, unless you have permission to be using the pool after you service it. Which I doubt Arielle would ever be okay with.”

He pauses a second before he answers. “Right. Well, I’d appreciate that. But I really should go. I mean, if I want to keep this job.”

I nod, and he starts to walk toward the gate that surrounds the pool. Just before he gets to the edge he turns around and glances back at me. “How’d you know I serviced the pool?”

I smile. “Don’t get me wrong, you definitely look like you belong with my cousin and her friends. I’m just not sure you
act
like you belong with them.”

His face is blank and he just stares at me for a second. To be honest, it starts to make me nervous. I’d do anything to know what he’s thinking at that very moment.

“I’ll see you around, Morgan.”

And then he’s gone before I can come up with a response.

***

When I step back into the house, the kitchen is empty. I walk into the living room, but that’s empty, too. It takes me all of five minutes to realize that Arielle and her friends left to do whatever it is they had planned without me.

At first I think maybe they’ll come back for me, but after a few hours I give up on any hope I had of that happening.

I spend the rest of the day watching T.V, calling my mom and Paige, and playing around online. At one point I consider going for a swim but decide against it.

By the time dinner rolls around, I still haven’t heard from my Aunt Jenna or Arielle, so I end up fixing myself a frozen pizza.

Around nine I jump into the shower and crawl into bed. I haven’t felt this alone in a really long time. And as I drift off to sleep I can feel the tears dripping down from my face onto my pillow.

Chapter Four

I wake up the next morning to the sun shining bright through my bedroom window. I glance at my phone and check the time. 9:07. I jump out of bed and get dressed. I feel surprisingly energized, probably because of all the rest and sleep I’ve gotten within the last twenty-four hours.

When I walk into the kitchen a few minutes later, Arielle is sitting at the table with a magazine and a cup of coffee. Without saying anything I walk over to the cabinet, take down a mug and poor myself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” Arielle says from the table, looking up at me.

I pretend I don’t hear her and walk over to the fridge and take out the cream. I pour a little into my coffee, then put the carton back in the fridge.

“Um, I
said
good morning.”

I take a little bit of sugar from the pitcher on the counter and dump it into my coffee.

Arielle stands up from her chair and walks closer to me. “Are you ignoring me or something?”

“Gee, you don’t miss a thing.” I roll my eyes.

“Look,” she sighs, “if this is about yesterday, I’m sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I mean, it was my first day back. I was busy. I had places to go, people to see.

You could have come.”

“When? When you snuck out and didn’t even say bye? Or maybe when you called me after you left? Or when you came back to get me later on? Oh, wait, that’s right, you didn’t do any of those things.” My whole body is turned toward her now and I’m staring her down.

“Not everything is about you, Morgan.” She says it slowly like she can’t believe how selfish I’m being.

Suddenly, I’m really, really angry. I never said any of this was about me. If this was about me, I’d be home right now. With people who cared about me. Not thousands of miles away pretending to be happy. Pretending like I belong.

I laugh. “Me? Arielle, you’re the one who makes everything about you. You think I want to be here with you? I don’t even like you.”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I mean, yeah, Arielle’s pretty mean to me and I don’t exactly respect what she did to me yesterday, but saying things like that is so not like me. I’m not a mean or vicious person. The look on her face makes me feel even worse. It’s one of bewilderment and shock and somewhere, in the deepest part of her eyes, I swear I can almost see a little bit of hurt.

“Look,” I say. I’m trying to redeem myself but somehow I can’t think of the right thing to say.

“Don’t bother,” she snaps. Then she turns on her heel and makes her way out of the kitchen without another word.

Part of me knows I shouldn’t feel bad for what I said, but I can’t help it. I feel awful. I want to run after her but I don’t know what to say. I’m just about to suck it up and chase after her when my Aunt Jenna walks into the kitchen.

“Good morning, darling! How are you on this beautiful morning?” She’s grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, jeez. At least someone in this house is in a good mood.

“Morning.” I take a sip of my coffee.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t home for dinner last night. We went for drinks and then we ended up going dancing! And, oh, it felt so nice to see all my old friends again!

Anyway, Arielle told me you guys went out so I figured it was fine. But tonight we’ll all have dinner together, okay?”

The fact that Arielle lied to her mom about taking me to dinner last night makes me feel a little less guilty about what I just said to her, but not much.

I force a smile. “Sounds great.”

“Good! Did you make it to the beach yesterday?” she asks, taking the orange juice out of the fridge.

I don’t know how to answer this because I don’t know exactly what Arielle’s told her. I feel like no matter what I say I’m going to get Arielle in trouble, so I take a sip of my coffee and hope my aunt will move on to something else.

“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” she presses.

Sigh.

“We didn’t really have time for the beach,” I lie.

“No time? It’s right around the corner. It’s a five minute walk, for God’s sake!”

It is? Well, how was I supposed to know that? I could have gone for a nice walk to the beach yesterday.

“I guess I was still a little out of it from the flight.”

My aunt nods. “Well, give me a few minutes and we can go together.”

I smile. “That would be awesome.”

Just then the phone rings and my aunt reaches over and grabs the cordless off the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Hello?” she says into the receiver. Once she hears the voice on the other end, her smile fades. Her eyes meet mine and a fake look of happiness covers her face. “I’ll just be a minute, sweetie.” And then she disappears from the kitchen.

Yikes. Whoever that was, my aunt didn’t seem too happy to be talking to them.

And she clearly had no interest in letting me know who it was, either. Hmm. Doesn’t she realize being sneaky about something just makes people more curious about what’s going on?

Ten minutes later my aunt still hasn’t come back into the kitchen and I’m starting to get anxious. I need to get away for a minute, out of this house. Otherwise there’s no way I’m going to survive another thirteen days here.

So I write my aunt a quick note, leave it on the counter, and head out to find the beach.

***

The beach isn’t hard to find -- my aunt wasn’t kidding when she said it was a five-minute walk. I guess I was so out of it on the drive back from the airport that I didn’t even notice it on our way to the house.

Once I walked outside all I had to do was follow this guy and his son who were walking down the street in front of me. It wasn’t hard to guess where they were going, considering they had a cooler and beach towels with them.

I just acted like I knew exactly where I was going, and I don’t think they caught on to the fact that I was following them. Or if they did, they didn’t seem to care.

The walk was literally four houses down the street, followed by a right turn down this little dirt path. At the end of the path there was a little bridge, and the beach is directly off of it.

As I walk across the bridge I slip my flip-flops off my feet so I can feel the sand against my toes. I haven’t done that since I was little, but somehow today it seems appropriate.

The sand is whiter than any other sand I’ve seen and the first thing I feel when I dig my toes into the white sparkles is warmth through my entire body. It’s so hot, but not in a painful way – it’s almost comforting. I make my way toward the water, digging my feet harder and harder into the sand with each step.

This must be a more private entrance, because there aren’t that many people on the beach right now. Only a few dozen spread out as far as I can see.

The water is so blue it’s almost white. I stick my foot in and surprisingly, I don’t flinch from a shooting splurge of coldness flowing through my body. The water is warm.

It’s beautiful. And for the first time since I got here, I actually feel a little bit glad that I came.

“First time?”

The voice comes from a small blonde-haired girl who’s somehow ended up standing right next to me without me even noticing. Which is actually kind of creepy.

Before I can come up with a response she’s talking again.

“I’m totally good at being able to tell when someone’s never seen a real ocean before!” she says.

What does she mean a real ocean? I’ve seen a real ocean before! Haven’t I?

“What do you mean, a real ocean?”

The girl smiles. “Where are you from?”

Doesn’t this girl know the best way to make friends is not to go up to perfect strangers and insult them?

“Um. New York,” I tell her but what I really want to say is “Now, go away.”

“You’re really pretty,” she tells me.

Hmm. Maybe she isn’t that bad after all.

“I’m Elizabeth. I live right there.” She points to this huge red house that’s set back from the beach and surrounded by a white fence. “Want to come over for brunch?”

Jeez. Does this girl have a screw loose or something? She just met me two minutes ago. How does she know I’m not, like, a mass murderer or something?

I’m trying to come up with some sort of excuse when I glance up the beach and see Arielle and Lauren walking across the bridge. Ugh. Could their timing be any worse?

The whole point of coming to the beach was to try to get away from Arielle and our confrontation this morning. I’m so not ready to deal with it.

I glance back at Elizabeth’s hopeful face and sigh. I mean, she seems harmless enough. Kind of like a puppy, but harmless just the same.

Oh, what the hell. “Brunch sounds perfect.”

***

Elizabeth’s house makes the house we’re staying in look like an apartment. It’s like something out of a movie. How is it possible that people really live like this? It’s unreal to me.

Brunch is spread out on a glass porch that overlooks the beach. The table is covered with bagels, bacon, fruit, eggs, cereal, and a bunch of other breakfast foods. It all looks absolutely mouth-watering. And it isn’t until I feel my stomach grumbling that I realize how hungry I am.

We both make a heaping plate and take it over to the table. Turns out Elizabeth’s parents are both lawyers and work, like, a ton of hours. Their live-in maid and cook make this spread for them every morning. I learn this and a bunch of other information about Elizabeth over brunch. She doesn’t hold anything back, that’s for sure.

I had just finished venting to her about my fight with Arielle this morning and was getting her advice (that’s the thing about people who are so open -- they tend to make you just as open), when I glance down the beach and see Arielle and Lauren. I almost pretend I didn’t see them when I notice they aren’t alone. They’re with a boy.

At first I can’t remember where I know him from, but then it hits me. It’s Alex, the kid who cleans our pool.

Elizabeth follows my eyes. “You know him?”

I nod. “He cleans the pool at the house I’m staying at.”

Elizabeth laughs. “I honestly doubt that.”

I take my eyes away from him and turn them back to Elizabeth.

“He does,” I assure her, “I just saw him there yesterday.”

“Well, he was probably visiting your cousin.”

“They’re friends?” I ask her, taken aback.

“He’s been friends with Lauren since they were, like, five. He met Arielle through her.”

“How do you know them?” I ask.

“They’re in my grade. Lauren’s a total bitch, but Alex is actually pretty sweet.”

“I don’t get it. Lauren doesn’t seem like the type to be good friends with someone who cleans her and her friend’s pools.”

Elizabeth looks at me like I’m crazy. “Alex lives in a bigger house than I do. He has a full scholarship to Syracuse University to play basketball in the fall. Trust me when I tell you he doesn’t need to clean anyone’s pool.”

I don’t get it. If what Elizabeth is saying is true, then why did Alex lie to me yesterday? And why didn’t he correct me when I said the thing about him not fitting in with Arielle and Lauren?

I glance down the beach again to where Alex just was. He’s walking toward the bridge that leads back to where my house is. Arielle and Lauren are nowhere in sight.

I look at Elizabeth. “Give me one second.”

Then I open up the glass door and start to walk down the beach toward Alex.

His back is to me when I finally catch up with him.

“Hello Alex, you jerk,” I say.

He stops and turns around. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and tan cargo shorts. He looks just as good with a shirt on as he did with it off.

“Excuse you.” He smirks.

“No.” I correct him. “Excuse
you.
You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Yes, you did,” I tell him crossing my arms over my chest. “You told me you cleaned our pool. You don’t. You told me you weren’t friends with Arielle and Lauren.

You are. Those sounds like lies to me, there, Alex.”

“First of all,” he says, reaching over and pulling my arms apart, “don’t cross your arms at me. Second of all, I didn’t lie. I just didn’t deny. There’s a difference.” He’s smiling down at me now.

“Oh please,” I say shaking my head, “we didn’t get off on a very good foot. You shouldn’t lie.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t assume.”

“I don’t assume!” I say loudly.

He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. So maybe I could just tell you weren’t exactly happy to be here and I didn’t think you’d want to talk to someone who was friends with the people you were trying to run away from.”

I look at him for a second before answering. I hate that it was that easy for him to read me, that it was that easy for him to figure out I was miserable here. He doesn’t even know me.

“I’m not trying to run away from anyone,” I say.

“Oh, really? So you like Lauren and your cousin then?”

“Actually, I do.” Ha! Take that.

“Good. Then you won’t mind coming mini-golfing with us tonight.”

Shit.

The cocky look on his face is enough to make me say what I say next.

I cross my arms. “I’d love too.”

He reaches over slowly and takes my arms in his hands, slowly pushing them apart, never taking his eyes off mine. “What did I tell you about that?”

Oh, my God. Is he flirting with me? No. He can’t be. I’m reading into it way too much. Right?

He breaks my gaze. “Good. I’ll see you tonight then.”

And then he’s gone. I stand there for a moment looking after him before heading back to Elizabeth’s house to tell her we’re going mini-golfing.