Summer Boys (15 page)

A tattered
Marie Claire
lay on the bathroom counter. It had wet circular marks where Beth’s fingers had touched it. She leaned over it now, making sure she had the quantities right.

Two eggs.

She cracked one and held it over the mixing bowl, waiting for the clear goop to separate itself from the shell. She did the same with the other egg.

One cup oatmeal.

One teaspoon milk.

Beth added the ingredients and then set the containers aside. She stuck a silver spoon into the bowl and stirred.

“Beth, don’t you want to come to dinner?” her mom called from the other room.

“You go ahead, Mom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Her mother’s footsteps sounded down the hall and Beth looked at herself in the mirror. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t doing this for George. But she knew that wasn’t true.

She’d been hiding from George all day. She’d stayed in bed that morning until she was sure she’d heard him go out, then she’d gone for a long run around town. She’d come home hoping he wasn’t there, and then she’d been disappointed when he wasn’t. Then, since the waiting had been killing her, she’d borrowed one of Ella’s magazines and started her little beauty ritual. And here she was. They’d definitely see each other at dinner. The thought made her feel ill.

She slathered the mixture onto her face.

Beth had never had a pedicure. She’d never used any body or hand lotion except Jergens Unscented. She never spent more than three minutes on her hair. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to do these things, it was just that she’d never seen herself as
that girl.

Now she took her mom’s Bath & Body Works Moonlight Path cream and rubbed it onto her freshly shaven legs. She tucked her hair back behind her ears.

While she waited for the mask to dry, she grabbed a lemon, sliced it in half like the picture on page eighty-nine showed, and rubbed it along her arms, concentrating on the elbows.
Marie Claire
seemed to hold the opinion that guys definitely notice if your elbows are soft or not.

But the question of the day was: Would George notice? George had kissed her. She and George had hooked up. But what did that mean? Would he dump Cara? Had it happened already? He was probably already at dinner, probably as nervous about facing Beth as she was about facing him. They’d have to talk about what had happened before he left tomorrow. But it was the last thing Beth wanted to do, especially if the discussion ended with it
being hard for them to still be friends. That was the one thing she knew she couldn’t handle.

She sat down on the closed seat of the toilet. The mask was starting to pinch at her pores. She wished last night hadn’t ended like it did—so abruptly, and with George walking away. She needed to know if it had just been some drunken hookup, or if it was something more.

After a few minutes, Beth stood up and turned on the tap. She wet a washcloth and rubbed at her face in a “gentle, circular motion,” just like the article instructed. Then she cupped more water in her palms and splashed off any remnants of egg. She dried her face and looked in the mirror, ready to see a new, more feminine, more—might as well just admit it—
Cara-like
Beth.

In the mirror, Beth’s eyebrows were still straight, and not arched like Cara’s. Her face looked plain to her.

Her heart sank. She should have figured. Nowhere in the recipe had
Marie Claire
promised a miracle.

“Beth.” Ella’s dad was standing over the grill. “I’ve never seen you late to a meal before.”

“Ha, ha. You’re such a comedian,” Beth said, grabbing a plate from the table and holding it out for two hot dogs. She was in no mood for her uncle’s teasing. She had already spied George at the second table, sandwiched between Kelsi and Ella. At least he wasn’t sitting next to Cara, which was a good sign. But Cara
was
here. Again.

Beth debated whether or not to go sit with them but, at the last minute, wimped out and walked over to the circular kids’ table
where Jessi sat alone. She and George couldn’t exactly talk with all the cousins around, anyway. Maybe he’d come over to her later, and they could finally get things out in the open.

“Why aren’t you playing boccie ball?” Beth asked Jessi, nodding toward where Drew and Jordan were already deep into a game on the lawn.

Jessi sighed. “Everybody always fights.”

Beth understood that feeling. It was true. Boccie ball could be extremely controversial.

“You’re a wise girl, Jessi,” she said appreciatively. She couldn’t stop feeling as if George’s eyes were on her back.

Jessi seemed pleased with her cousin’s compliment and patted her leg. “You’re pretty, Beth,” she said.

“That was sweet. Thanks,” Beth replied. Was it completely pathetic that she was truly flattered by Jessi’s comment? Maybe it was her new beauty regimen. She was tempted to ask Jessi what, exactly, was pretty about her. Was it her skin? Her hair? But she couldn’t stoop to that level. She was just biting into her hot dog when Ella walked past their table, looking a bit moodier than usual.

“But Ella’s
really
pretty,” Jessi added.

Beth ate in silence. She tried not to home in on George’s voice a few feet away, but she couldn’t help it. He was telling some story that she’d already heard, in his typical I-can’t-hear-myself-unless-I-shout voice. Cara was laughing, and the butterflies in Beth’s stomach flapped harder, frantic—as if someone had put them in a jar. Did the girl ever stop laughing at George’s jokes? Didn’t it get old?

Beth wondered if she should ask Jessi her opinion on a Beth/ Cara looks comparison. But then, she probably didn’t want to know. Kids could be way too honest, sometimes. What Beth was just hoping for, though, was that George would walk up behind her any minute now. They were best friends—Cara or no Cara. If something was weird between them, they’d set it right.

When she finished her hot dogs, Beth did her best to stay seated, act casual, and wait patiently. But after half an hour, there was no tap on the shoulder, no George sitting down beside her on the bench. This was getting annoying.

Fine.
She’d make the first move. She was brave enough. She’d ask him if they could walk somewhere and talk about…everything.

She stood up and turned around with the empty plate in her hand, her heart thudding.

George’s table was empty.

“They walked down to the beach, sweetie,” Aunt Claire said, picking up on Beth’s look of total surprise. “Something about catching the sunset. You should go.”

Beth looked at her watch. The sunset wasn’t for another two hours. It was George’s last night. He was driving home at dawn.

He hadn’t even bothered to invite her.

“Are you all set back there?”

“What?”

“Are you ready?”

“What?”

Scott swiveled around until his face appeared over the back of his seat so that Jamie could see him. He looked both mirthful and concerned at the same time.

“I said, are you ready for me to go?”

Jamie nodded after reading his lips. Above the roar of the plane’s engine, it was hard to hear herself think, much less hear Scott yelling from the front seat. She stared at the back of his head as he turned to face the control panel, wishing it were quieter so that she could ask him more questions. Like, what exactly made it possible for a tiny pile of metal like this to fly through the air. And whether he could promise her they wouldn’t crash.

Instead, she tried some yoga breathing while she stared out the miniscule window to her left. It was a tiny runway, and Jamie
could see Scott’s dad standing in the archway of the hangar, grinning and waving at them. The few times Jamie had flown out to Arizona to visit her grandfather, taking off had seemed kind of mystical. At big airports, you felt like you were part of this huge machine that wouldn’t—couldn’t—let you fall.

The size of this airport, the fact that she had met the guy in the hangar waving at them, the fact that she knew the guy who’d be flying the plane—that he wore Hawaiian shirts and that they’d kissed—took away all the mystery of this flight. Jamie dug her nails into her knees and meditated some more.

The plane lurched into motion. Jamie’s stomach lurched along with it. The grass lining the runway slid past them, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Jamie tugged at her locket. And then the plane tilted up in front, and suddenly they were moving upward. She didn’t know that they’d left the ground until she peered over her side of the plane and glanced down below them.

Ugh.
It was dizzying. Jamie decided not to look outside anymore. Like all experiences, she needed to focus, to catalog this mentally for her writing. She homed in on the layout of the cockpit, the shrinking feeling in her stomach, and the sound of the engine, which, to her, seemed like it was struggling.

“The engine is making weird noises,” she shouted at the back of Scott’s head. He didn’t turn around or budge.

“Scott?”

Nothing. They were still climbing, but not fast enough for Jamie to get that feeling of being pushed backward, like on larger planes. She leaned forward and tapped Scott on the head.

He didn’t look back, but he gave her the thumbs-up and Jamie tried to calm down. She was definitely worrying too much. She
gave him the thumbs-up, too, though he couldn’t see it. Then she sank back into her seat.

For the next couple of minutes, as the plane climbed in altitude, Jamie wished she’d brought a little notebook or something to sketch with. This sensation was just too cool to be left to memory. Without much warning, the plane finally leveled out.

The plane almost seemed to stop and it felt as if the atmosphere in the cabin became weightless. Like a curious child on a field trip, Jamie leaned against the glass and looked downward. She breathed in deeply. It wasn’t a gasp, but something softer and gentler. Whatever it was, it filled her entire body.

The town of Pebble Beach, and the beach itself, was a crescent along the blue edge of the ocean. It wasn’t tiny, like it would look from a higher altitude. The cars were still clearly defined. The people were small, distinct figures moving along the sand and the streets. It was better than being tiny. It still looked real, just miniature real.

“God, this is amazing,” Jamie said out loud, although Scott couldn’t hear her. The plane, now that it was level, felt as if it was coasting like a kite. Along with the purring of the engine, Jamie could hear the wind whizzing around her. Everything was so overwhelming, she forgot to worry or be scared. Besides, she was too busy thinking, as usual.

She thought about how this summer was small. On the ground, it felt huge, but really, it was just a moment in a series of moments. Life was so much bigger than lying on her bed in her room, falling into the void. It was bigger than Pebble Beach and much bigger than Jamie herself.

And the thing was, it didn’t feel bad to know she was so small. It felt magnificent.

She might forget to write it down. She might forget how scared she’d been at first. She might even forget Scott, someday. But she’d always remember being here, on top of the world.

Incidentally, for the moment, she forgot to think about Ethan altogether.

Walking across the small airport parking lot, Jamie looked down at her feet. She could feel Scott’s eyes on her every few steps. When they got to his old Volkswagen convertible, he opened the passenger door for her and closed it behind her. Then he walked around the driver’s side and got in. Scott put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. He spun around to face her instead.

“You hated it.”

Jamie was so surprised, she gave a start. She’d been off in her own world, still absorbing everything. But now she looked Scott directly in the eyes.

“Are you kidding? I
loved
it.”

Scott’s mouth tilted up in a smile. “Really?”

“It was…it was…” Jamie let out a breath and flung up her hands.

“Indescribable, huh?”

Jamie laughed. She’d forgotten what it felt like to do anything without thinking it through, even laughing. She felt free, like she could finally focus on the bigger world that existed just beyond herself.

“Yes, exactly.”

Scott looked so pleased that Jamie wanted to hug him for caring so much whether she’d liked it or not.

She didn’t fight the urge. Jamie threw her arms around him and squeezed. “You’re the best guy I ever slapped in the face,” she said with a wide, gleeful grin.

Scott laughed, blushing. “You could probably make it up to me.”

Jamie didn’t wait. She leaned toward him and kissed him on the lips. She basked in the pure pleasure of kissing someone she really liked. Someone who maybe wasn’t the one. Or maybe was. Someone who could do something she couldn’t do. And he’d wanted to share it with her. Somehow, that felt right to Jamie. Maybe that’s what it was all about, after all.

Chances were, she and Scott wouldn’t last forever.

But Jamie didn’t really mind.

Kelsi shook Ella awake, claiming that they needed their last napoleons of the summer. Covering her eyes with her pillow, Ella pointed out that there was still a week left before they had to return home.

“But you know how it is,” Kelsi insisted, tugging on Ella’s arm under the sheets. “You think you have all this time and then all of a sudden, we’re getting gas at the BP on our way back to Connecticut. Come on, El.”

Ella let out a groan. Didn’t Kelsi know that deep sleep helped you forget things that had happened, like, forty-eight hours ago? Didn’t Kelsi have anything she wanted to forget?

Ella let her sister pull the sheets down and then slid out of bed. “I gotta take a shower,” she said as she moped her way down the hall, her thin cotton boxers clinging to her butt.

“Fine,” Kelsi said impatiently. “I’ll be over at the picnic tables.”

She padded past Ella in the doorway and headed down the corridor. Ella watched her disappear through the front door, then checked the clock in the hallway. It was 11:24
A.M.
At least it wasn’t too early.

When she knew Kelsi was out of earshot, Ella trudged into the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing Peter’s cell number, which she’d memorized. She’d just make this quick call and ask him to meet her somewhere later.

The phone rang three times and then Peter’s voice mail picked up. It was surprising he’d strung enough words together for the greeting: “This is Peter. Leave me a message.”

Ella hung up before the beep. Leaving a message might make her sound like a loser. Didn’t he have caller ID on his cell? Didn’t he
want
to talk to her?

“You’re supposed to be showering.”

Ella whipped around to see Kelsi standing outside the screen door staring at her. Ella felt the blood rush to her face.

“Um…” She tried to think up a person she might have been calling other than Peter, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Get moving, slacker,”Kelsi said with determination. “I’m going to stand guard by the phone.” She turned and sat herself on the stoop. Relieved that Kelsi seemed to be in a better mood, Ella slid down the hall and into the bathroom.

Underneath the showerhead, she scrubbed her skin raw, wanting to wash away all traces of the sludgy feeling she had inside. Ella craved Peter so much she felt almost sick. But since the other night on the beach, her desire for him had changed. It wasn’t just purely physical anymore. Now she just craved being near him and wanted his reassurance.

Reassurance of what?
she wondered, soaping up her arms for the third time. She squeezed some Body Shop sea mud scrub into her right palm and rubbed her hands together, then smoothed the cleanser onto her face.

Maybe she needed to know it had been worth it. Because after all the waiting and wanting, everything inside was telling her it hadn’t been.

“Damn it.” Ella scrambled to flush the mud out of her eyes, scrunching up her face. She felt uncomfortable all over.

Once she had patted herself dry with her king-size towel and gotten dressed, Ella put on her makeup and plopped into the car with Kelsi. “What do you want for your birthday this year?” she asked as they sailed down Route 41 toward downtown.

Kelsi shrugged. “You never get me anything for my birthday.”

“Well, maybe I’m maturing,” Ella said, feeling guilty for all the times she hadn’t. Last summer, she had forgotten to even get her a card. Sometimes Ella really disliked how self-absorbed she could be.

Kelsi smiled and let out a slight snort. “Right, Ella. You’ve definitely grown by leaps and bounds.”

“Oh, stop being sarcastic. Seriously, the napoleons can be my treat,” Ella offered graciously. “I want to make up for last year.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I want napoleons anymore.”

“What? God, Kels, you…”

“I want to go to the diner,” Kelsi said as she carefully slowed down for a yield sign.

“What?”

Kelsi looked as if nothing would deter her or change her mind. “We can get veggie burgers.”

Ella said the first words of protest that came into her head, crossing her arms stubbornly. “I hate veggie burgers.”

Kelsi shrugged. “Fine, get a hamburger.”

Damn.
“Kelsiiiii…”

“What?”

Ella searched her brain frantically for the most persuasive way to talk Kelsi out of driving to the diner. Seeing Peter with Kelsi would be unbearable. And what if Peter said something to
her
about the other night? There was no way Ella could do it.

But she couldn’t say that.

“You don’t want to see him, Kelsi,” Ella said sternly.

“Yes, I do.”Kelsi gripped the steering wheel, determined to go through with this, no matter what.

“Kelsi.” Ella slammed her palms against her thighs as Kelsi narrowed her eyes at the road. “Napoleons are tradition,” she finally blurted out. It was a lame attempt to make Kelsi feel bad, but it didn’t come close to working.

“We can have napoleons for dessert. I have to see him, El. I just have to.”

Ella didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t blame her sister.

In fact, she could identify completely with everything Kelsi was feeling.

The same snooty girl from last time was at the hostess podium. She wore the same cool look and gave them a heap of attitude, as usual.

“Two, please,” Kelsi said firmly, surprising Ella with the iciness in her tone. Kelsi was lots of things, but she was never rude or
cold. The girl, whose name tag said “Brandi” (
of course she would be a Brandi,
Ella thought), led them to a nonsmoking table that was right on the dividing line with the smoking section. Ella thought about how Peter smelled of smoke. She began to crave a cigarette, but then pulled out a piece of gum from her purse and chomped away. She had to resist all kinds of urges for Kelsi’s sake.

Kelsi scoped the restaurant for any signs of Peter, while Ella pretended to study her menu. She was desperately hoping he wasn’t here. Then again, maybe if he were working, it would make Ella feel better. At least she’d know he’d had a good reason for not answering the phone.

A middle-aged waitress with an enormously poofy hairdo came by to take their orders. “Veggie burger deluxe,” Kelsi said, “and a cranberry juice.”

The waitress rested on a hip while Ella searched her menu. She always wanted at least four things and never could decide without scouring the specials a dozen times. “Greek salad,” she said finally.

When they were alone again, Kelsi leaned toward Ella and whispered, “Oh my God. I just realized it. That’s her.”

Ella straightened her shoulders and looked around the diner, wondering what Kelsi meant. “That’s her who?”

“The girl at the podium.
Brandi.
”She dragged out the vowels in “Brandi” disdainfully.

Ella looked beyond Kelsi’s delicate frame, past the guy who kept checking her out, toward the blonde ponytail of Brandi. “What about
Brandi
?” She mimicked Kelsi’s pronunciation to emphasize how annoying it was when her sister was cryptic. Also, if she acted annoyed, she wouldn’t seem as guilty.

Kelsi rolled her eyes. “The girl. The girl Peter was with last night. It’s gotta be her.”

Ella looked at Brandi’s back again, her cheeks hot. She looked down and grabbed a sugar packet from the container by the window. “Really? You think so?”

“I swear, I sensed something was up when I used to come in here, but I thought I was just being jealous.” Kelsi seemed oblivious to Ella’s tomato-colored face. “I should have trusted my instincts.”

Ella’s eyes darted to the right, to avoid looking at Kelsi
or
the wrongly accused Brandi, to where a long, rectangular window revealed a chest-high view of the kitchen. She could see one familiar, now white-aproned, torso moving about with a spatula. “Oh God,”slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She looked at Kelsi, whose gaze immediately darted where Ella had been looking. But then their view was blocked by their waitress’s full figure.

“Veggie burger, Greek salad,” she announced, laying down the meals and some condiments.

Ella immediately tackled her salad with the vinegar bottle, shaking and shaking its contents all over the fresh lettuce leaves and feta cheese. When the waitress backed away, there was another person lurking around in the kitchen. A girl. Whoever it was pressed close to Peter. Her arm snaked out and a hand went below Ella’s line of vision. However, the angle that the arm was at left little doubt that this girl was grabbing Peter’s butt. Ella’s legs turned to Jell-O, the kind they serve at diner salad bars. Peter and the mystery girl were rubbing against each other, only briefly, but intimately.

“It’s Brandi in there. She’s doing it on purpose,” Kelsi
growled. Her eyes were glued to the spot and nearly popping out of their sockets. “Because I’m here.” She laid her fork down. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to do this anymore.”

Brandi apparently communicated something to Peter, who did a ducking motion and then his face was staring out at them. Ella and Kelsi. Kelsi and Ella. Naive vacationing sisters who had fallen prey to the same guy.

And then there was a whoosh of air at Ella’s side. Kelsi had stood up and she was walking out of the restaurant.
Walking.
Not storming, not slinking. And her head was held high.

Ella’s eyes had gone back to Peter, but the rest of her remained nailed to the seat. He disappeared from view, and then came toward her out of the kitchen’s swinging door. “Hey there,” he said, as he closed in on her.

“Hey.” Ella’s voice was tremulous. Her eyes moved beyond him to the swinging kitchen door. Brandi was just coming out again. She frowned their way and then walked back to her podium, glancing back over her shoulder twice.

“Where’d Kelsi rush off to?” Peter asked.

“Are you having sex with that girl?” Ella’s words completely overlaid his. It wasn’t calculated, but she still expected the question to shock him. It didn’t. He tucked his hands into his apron pockets casually.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Ella was worried she might start to cry. She already knew the truth. He didn’t have to say. Her voice came out all high and pinched. “I snuck around for you. I went behind my sister’s back.…”

Peter gave the first sign of being uncomfortable. He shifted his
weight and took his hands out of his pockets, placing them on the

table in front of Ella.

“It’s not a big deal, okay?”

“Right. Me betraying my sister for you is not a big deal at all,” she retorted angrily.

Peter’s big dark eyes widened. “Ella, we had a good time the other night. Let’s just leave it at that, all right?”

Ella put her palms to her forehead. A good time. She remembered the night in the haunted house, how dizzy she’d been, how she’d thought about him and agonized over him. A good time.

She stood up on her shaky Jell-O legs. She scanned the table and remembered she hadn’t ordered a drink. In the movies, if a guy insulted you, you dumped your drink on him. You didn’t dump your sister’s drink on him, especially when the sister was the one you had
both
insulted.

Ella opted for her Greek salad instead. She tipped the bowl toward him and slammed it against his chest.

She watched as Peter’s face, for once, actually took on human, emotional expressions—shock, surprise, and fury.

“Now
that
was a good time,” she said vengefully.

Then she trotted out of the restaurant.

Even as she walked away, Ella was keenly aware that she exuded about one-tenth of the dignity Kelsi had, and about half the class.