The Summer of Me & You (3 page)

“I figured you'd say that. Don't say it too loud though, or someone might tell, and then poof—there goes your scholarship.”

When did the cute girl I love turn into such a bitch?

For the rest of the night, all I did was think about her. Think about all the things that could've happened between us in high school, but hadn't. I was mad at her, I wanted to go to her tonight and confess my feelings for her. I hated her. I loved her.

And I was going to torture her for the rest of the summer.

CHAPTER THREE

Want that one girl so badly

*

D
ead.

Everything was dead after graduation. Total dead space between now and the rest of my life. Actually, it was just one silent and uneventful week I had to get through. I'd signed up for the summer filmmaking class before I'd graduated. It would give me something to do in this boring town before I packed up and headed off to college, surprisingly, because I was considered a slacker. And the people who knew I was majoring in cinematography laughed at me. Apparently, that was only a subject that stoners majored in. Like, what the hell? What was I supposed to major in? Medicine?—I'd end up self medicating. I was too screwed up to be a psychiatrist. Not smart enough to be a doctor or a scientist, and that was boring shit anyway. So the only subject left that I could indulge myself in, to keep from being a complete loser, was art and film. It's what I loved.

Stephen wanted me to get a job to pay back the money he'd given me for this “stupid” class. I tried explaining to him it was for educational purposes. He said that it was a waste of time, and that any idiot could hold a camera in their hands, put some shit on tape and screen it, and that I needed to get serious about my life. As though his life was so well put together. He was a truck driver, and legally he wasn't even considered my step-dad. He wasn't married to my mom. But it wasn't like I hated the guy. He was nice enough to give me the money and he provided for my mom, because my own father had skipped out when I was born. I never knew him. Also, Stephen's brother Brian was fucking awesome.

Stephen had moved us out of our two story house and into a smaller one so he would have more money for his granddaughter Alison and for my college fund. I told him he didn't have to pay for me. I was supposed to have a dad for that, but Stephen had always been there for me and my mom.

Past the railroad tracks sat a junkyard. The wire fence was torn so I pulled it back and slid beneath it, slipping into the wasteland—an alternative reality. I'd always been drawn toward rundown places. My theory was that they had stories to tell—beneath the grunge and grit, there was an untold story. The visual aspects appealed to me. Burnt orange, faded red, bent chrome, and rusted everything. How the dirt settled atop it all. In a way, I guess being in the junkyard inspired me, and if I ever did become a filmmaker, I knew I'd have to incorporate these strikingly dilapidated places into my films because beauty hid in the damage.

I wanted to make a film called Tatterdemalion. It'd be set in the post-grunge era with teenagers who still lived in the early 90s, even though the world around them had moved on. They'd hang out in places like this because the world out there wouldn't understand them and it'd feel like home here. And it'd be here where they'd find themselves and grow up.

The summer sun had eaten the paint in blisters from hundreds of car tops and hoods. I crawled into the backseat of a broken down car and leaned back on the torn leather seat and stared at the ripped ceiling. The burn against my back felt amazing.

I lit a cigarette. The smoke swirled in rings. I watched the yellow flicker to orange and back again. Minutes passed. I wanted to stay here and let this wreckage be my life. Smoking a cigarette in the back of an abandoned car in a junkyard on a summer afternoon without a care in the world. Achieving nothing. No definite plan. No goals in life. Just existing.

I had my own car once, but not having one for a while made me long for the freedom of being able to turn the ignition and  go anywhere I wanted when I needed to escape. But I'd screwed up. I'd had an attack and couldn't control it. It was like something dark had taken hold of me. I remembered the acceleration and the adrenaline that pulsed through my body right before the crash, the blood, the loss of consciousness, the bent and mangled metal, and the broken glass. The uncertainty of whether I would live or not gave me a rush. I didn't care either way, and that detachment was invigorating.

I was in and out of control.

After I got out of the hospital, I spent time in another one being evaluated so my mom could find out what my mental condition was, because surely I had one.

Rumors spread that my car crash had been a suicide attempt.

Others said it was the drugs.

My cellphone rang.
Shit.
I kinda didn't want to be bothered at the moment. I had a lot of things that I was trying to sort out in my head. I fished it out of my pocket and glanced at the number.
Ashley.
I'd hung out with her a couple of times, and now she was gettin' all clingy. I didn't want to get involved with anyone for reasons. All the girls I'd been with so far had caused me trouble and the one girl I wanted hadn't given me the time of day. So that was that. Life's a bitch, no need to double my luck by hooking up with one.
 

I answered the phone because I knew she would call right back if I didn't.

“What?”

“Kaleb?” she said.
Yeah, no shit. You just called my phone didn't you?
 

“Yep.”

“What're you doing?”

“Who's this?” I knew who it was, I just said that to annoy her.

“It's Ashley?” she said it like a question. “You don't remember?” There was nothing to remember. Okay so I probably got a little drunk and bored and ended up fingering her or something that one time. It wasn't a big deal.

“Ashley? From school?”

She paused for a moment then said, “Yeah,” deflated. “I also went out with you a couple of nights ago?”

I didn't say anything so she elaborated upon hearing my silence. “Well, anyway, there's a party down at the lake, I thought you might want to come.”

I inhaled, then exhaled smoke. “Might consider it. Who's all there?” Nothing much was going on otherwise, wouldn't hurt to check it out.

“Everyone's here.” There was a good chance Kayleigh would be there. She didn't go to other parties, but since it was a gathering at the lake, she might show up.

“On my way now,” I said, then hung up. My house was only about a mile or two up the road from the junkyard. I'd walk back and get Stephen's car, since I didn't have my own anymore, and drive down to the lake. Stephen didn't trust me with his car, and my mom didn't want to get me another one. Walking everywhere sucked, but I took Stephen's car whenever I got a chance. He barely drove it anyway. He was on the road all the time, since he was a trucker, and he was tired by the time he got home. He was gone for weeks at a time. I was free to use the car whenever I wanted. It was my car anyway. The insurance from the wrecked car paid for the new one, but since Stephen had paid the insurance, he claimed the car that Brian had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday.

I pulled off my jeans, decided to leave them behind in my junkyard car, along with my cigarettes. I'd get them later. My black swim trunks were underneath my jeans and since it was so hot outside, I didn't feel like wearing much. I needed a tan anyway.

I slipped underneath the fence, and left the wasteland behind, trailing my way back down the road to my house. I pulled off my shirt, too, tossed it over my shoulder.

By the time I made it home, the sun had nearly scorched my back. Hitting into that water would be like splashing out of hell and into heaven. I burned. I hopped up onto the porch in one long stride, jerked open the screen, barreled into the backdoor, and landed in the kitchen.

“Dammit, it's fucking scorching outside. Probably like a hundred degrees.” I lurched the refrigerator door open, looking for bottled water or Gatorade.”

Mom sat at the table. She threw a spearmint at me. It bounced off my neck. “What the hell?” I spun around. She covered the receiver and made a face.
I'm on the phone,
she mouthed.
 

Geez Louise. I reached over onto the table, grabbing up the keys. “I'll bring the car back before midnight.” But before I could lift that silver jingle up and away, her hand clamped down on mine and stopped me. She wrestled with me as she tried to pry them out of my grasp. “Stop,” I said, swatting her away.

Defeated, she gave up, lifted her hand off mine. “Thank you,” I said.

“Hey, can I call you back later?
Kaleb's
home,” she emphasized my name, as though that should explain
everything
—about why she had to get off the phone. “Yes, that's right,” she laughed. “Couldn't have said it better myself. I'll call you right back.” Guess she didn't intend on fighting with me too long today. She hung up the phone and glared at me.
 

“What? What did I do this time?”

“You busted through the backdoor using profanity while I was on the phone, young man.”

“Look, why do you and I have to go through this
every
single
time.
I'm not four, mom. I just need the car. Who were you on the phone with anyway. Mrs. Gossip Bitch?”
 

“Turn around,” she said.

“Why?” I twisted halfway. It was my back. She noticed it was turning red.

“Kaleb,” she said my name with a whine, the way she always did, in that wannabe parental voice that made her sound like she was disappointed in me. “I told you to wear sunscreen!”

“Seriously? I gotta go. They're waiting on me.”

“Who is?”

“Friends.”

“You have imaginary friends now?”

“Bye,” I said, as I passed her, headed back out the door with the  keys in my hand. “P.S. You're not funny.”

“Be careful,” she called.

As soon as I cranked the car, I sped outta that driveway so damn fast the tires slung dirt. I bet my mom had a semi heart-attack, not that I was deliberately trying to give her one or anything. I  liked driving fast. I was halfway to the lake when I realized I didn't have my phone. There was no way I was turning back now, not when I was so close. There was probably fifty girls down at the lake today, but I only wanted to see one. I didn't know what made me want that one girl so badly, but it was uncontrollable. It was like I could have or be with any girl in town, but if I never got
the
girl—the one I'd wanted for so damn long, I'd never be satisfied. That was a terrible way to live. If Kayleigh didn't give me what I wanted soon, I was sure I'd probably go insane. If I hadn't already.
 

CHAPTER FOUR

 Gravity

*

I needed the sun, that was for sure. I tried explaining to my mother that people
could
die from the kind of lifestyle she expected me to live, caged up in this house with rabbit food and no fresh air or sunshine or human interaction of any sort. It wasn't
normal.
I couldn't believe I was even having to state my case. It fell on deaf ears. My mom was so freaking worried about me eating a slice of pizza, lord forbid I enjoy myself while I eat it, but she didn't want me inhaling fresh air, and seemed totally indifferent about me sitting in the house watching MTV all damn day, as if that wasn't junk programming. You gotta feed the body
and
mind right, or else what's the point?
 

I didn't know what she was so worried about. I might make a few friends for Pete’s sake? What was so
bad
about that? Mom was a perpetual loner and wanted me to follow in her footsteps. I was sure the only interaction she had with another human being was either medical talk while she was working at the hospital, and then bitching me out as soon as she got home. Routine, routine. Ugh, so exhausting. I was glad when three o'clock arrived and she headed out. I bolted off that couch so damn fast you would've thought someone had sat fire to my booty.
 

I retrieved my bike from the garage, locked up the house, and rode down to the lake. Gunner, my neighbor who lived across the street from me since I was eight, was already at the lake. He'd been there since ten this morning. I'd tried to leave six times. For a woman who worked twelve hour shifts, sometimes longer, you would've thought she would've passed out and I could've made an escape. Nope. At sixteen, I was already counting down the days until my eighteenth birthday. I'd for sure be moving out just as soon as I graduated. No way could I live like this. I'd end up being a bitter old fat lady with a thousand cats and she'd eat food all day because she's been deprived her whole life. The
horror.
I'd also die a virgin. I had nightmares about it.
Nightmares.
Girls from normal functioning homes grew up to be those sweet old women who smile all the time, who have nice hair and nice clothes, who bake cookies for their grandchildren. I was going to be the bitter old fat virgin cat lady with ratty hair. I was thinking about this at the same time a car almost plowed right into me.