Twenty Boy Summer (18 page)

Well, maybe
you
haven't. But your daughter and I are practically natives by now.

We walk up the boulevard slowly, Frankie and I a few steps behind with clenched fists, our forced smiles betraying none of our private drama.

Aunt Jayne asks if we'd like to stop somewhere for dessert, and since nodding and smiling is easier than shaking our heads and inventing a reason for
not
wanting dessert, we okay it without thinking.

And since the universe has worked in its own mysterious way all vacation, tonight shouldn't be any different, which is why neither of us is particularly surprised to discover that Jayne is craving a smoothie.

twenty-seven

A jolt of simultaneous panic and excitement shoots through my body. At the moment, my head and my heart are duking it out, trying to decide whether I should be happy to see Sam or severely freaked out that if we don't execute some sort of rapid-fire planning in the next fifteen seconds, our entire Jackie-slash-Samantha cover will be blown. Frankie turns to me in utter fright, the first her expression has changed all night, and I curse myself for not thinking to lay the ground rules with Jake and Sam in advance.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Anna and Frankie's Hour of Lying Liars! We hope you've enjoyed our show thus far. In the unlikely event that we should happen upon you at your place of employ with Red and Jayne Perino in tow, simply pretend that you do not know us, or that you are the gay older brothers of our new best friends, Jackie and Samantha. Thank you, and good night!

Frankie's baby-bird eyebrow is all twisted up and afraid, and all I can do is shrug.

There's a long line to get a table at the Shack tonight but that doesn't deter Jayne. Thinking fast, I announce that I need to use the bathroom and push my way to the front of the line amid an angry series of "The line starts back there!" and "No cutting!"

Sam is at the counter, turning out smoothies in record time. It takes a few minutes for him to notice me, and I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure Red and Jayne can't see me from their spot at the back of the line.

"Anna!" He finally sees me as he sets two gigantic Strawberry Short-Shakes on a tray for an impatient waitress with a platinum blond ponytail and way too much eyeliner. "How'd you get out so early?"

He wipes his hands on his green Shack apron and comes around the counter to wrap me in a hug. I feel that same frightened-yet-thrilled electricity again and force my brain to quiet its emotional counterpart long enough for me to break free of Sam's embrace and tell him the five-second version of why he can't know I exist.

"Got it," he says, laughing. "But it's gonna cost you. You
better
come back tonight." I promise him that I will and head back through the line to find the Perinos, hoping the color in my cheeks returns to normal before they notice.

After telling twenty minutes of made-up stories about our chaste adventures on the beach, we're sitting in a cozy little booth, carefully examining the two-page smoothie and shake menu.

Frankie catches me staring at Sam and rolls her eyes at me above the menu.

I'm thinking about killing her.

The impatient platinum blond I saw earlier takes our order without once looking up from her pad. A few minutes later, Sam stands at the edge of our table, winking at me as he passes out our drinks.

Frankie kicks me under the table but I ignore her, reaching up to take my Va-Va-Vineapple smoothie (vanilla ice cream, fresh pineapple, and ginger ale). Sam's fingers brush against mine, sending a shock through my hand that I feel all the way up my arm.

Uncle Red thanks Sam, and seeing them breathing the same air and responding to each other's polite small talk is like seeing Frankie's fingers on my journal again -- two very different and intentionally separate worlds colliding. I want to crawl down my smoothie straw and disappear in the sea of ice cream and ginger ale.

Once Sam returns to his post behind the counter, Frankie stops kicking me and we slurp down our drinks in about two minutes, anxious to get out of here before anyone recognizes us. Uncle Red and Aunt Jayne, on the other hand, act like this is the last smoothie shop they'll ever see, like smoothies are an endangered species to be appreciated and savored and drawn out as long as possible. With each passing minute, Frankie and I sink lower in our chairs, praying to the God of Annoying Coincidences that Jake doesn't show up and blow our cover.

After what feels like three hours, Red pays the bill and we're on our way back out to the anonymity of the crowded beach. I know it's risky, but I can't resist sneaking in one last goodbye. I suddenly remember that I have to use the bathroom again and wind my way back through the undulating smoothie line to get up to the counter. After confirming that I haven't been followed, I kneel on an empty counter stool and call Sam's name.

"So, midnight?" I ask.

"How about eleven?"

"Eleven-thirty," I say. "And that's final."

"Deal." He leans in and quickly kisses me on the lips, barely touching them before the frantic waitress shouts out another order for Sam.

"See you tonight." He smiles and turns back to the pastel buckets of ice cream behind the counter.

Frankie's waiting for me alone outside. "Took you long enough," she snaps. "My parents are getting postcards." She nods toward a newsstand.

"Everything okay?" Jayne asks when we catch up.

"Yeah," I say. "Just a little stuffed from the shakes. Frankie's worried that if she tries to get in the car too fast, her skirt will explode."

"Actually, Mom," Frankie says, "Anna was hanging back trying to get Smoothie Boy's cell number, but he dissed her."

"He didn't like the looks of my ugly stepsister," I say. "That, and Anna doesn't have any boobs."

"Girls!" Jayne laughs. "What is
with
you two tonight? Is there a full moon or something?"

"I don't know, is Anna howling at it?"

"Okay, Twinkies." Uncle Red hands his postcards to Jayne and digs out his keys. "Let's head out. We still have tomorrow -- I have something fun planned for our last night."

I nod. From behind Red and Jayne's trusting backs, Frankie Perino, journal-killer and two-time virgin liar -- goes middle school on me and sticks out her tongue.

The time for thinking is over.

I
am
going to kill her.

Back at the house, Frankie spends over an hour in the bathroom getting ready for bed. I use the opportunity to set the vibrating alarm on my cell phone. I don't want to alert her when I'm trying to sneak out -- the last thing I need is another stupid argument that could potentially wake up Red and Jayne. Alarm set, I stuff my phone under the pillow, turn out the bedside light, and pull the sheet over my head so I don't have to look at her tonight.

I don't remember hearing her come back from the bathroom, but suddenly my phone is buzzing against my cheek, shaking me from a light sleep. I use the display light on the screen to locate the flip-flops and sweatshirt I stashed under the bed earlier and notice that Frankie's bed is still made.

That means either she's asleep on the couch downstairs or she just can't stand the fact that I had sex before she did and she's out giving it up to Jake right this instant, determined to take back the center stage.

Downstairs, the empty couch and unlocked front door confirm it. I entertain the idea of locking her out and sneaking out the window over the deck, but I can imagine how that scene would play out. She'd come back and realize what happened, bang wildly on the door to wake her parents, and convince them that I threatened to sneak out to meet the Smoothie Boy and she was only trying to go after me and prevent me from doing something stupid (
sniffle
), just as a best friend ought to (
sniffle
), when she accidentally locked the door behind herself (
sniffle-sniffle-sigh
).

I follow the path we've taken so many times this summer -- across the front, down the street, cut back through a neighbor's yard, down the stairs to the beach, past the pier, through the campfire labyrinth, up to the deck of the Shack, and straight into Sam's arms.

Without speaking, he kisses me hard on the mouth and I kiss him back, sobbing and crumpling into his chest like a broken puppet.

twenty-eight

"Anna, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Frankie. And. I. Aren't. Speaking!" It comes out in a string of hiccups.

"Did you have a fight?"

I nod, opening my mouth to tell him about it, but my brain intercepts with an urgent telegram:
Hey, dummy. Stop. Sam doesn't know about Matt. Stop. Cover blown. Stop.

"There's so much I haven't told you, Sam. I don't even know where to start."

I pull away and lean against the deck railing to take a deep breath, watching the moon over the ocean. I wanted everything to be different here. I wanted to be someone else. Anna, cross-continental traveler, woman of passion and adventure! Not Anna, pathetic friend who breaks promises and writes letters to dead boys.

"Let's walk," he says, his hand warm and reassuring on my shoulder. "And when you feel okay, you can tell me whatever you want to tell me."

"Okay."

We walk all the way up to Eddie's house before I've worked it out enough in my head to start talking.

"It's a long and crazy story, Sam."

"It's cool, Anna Abby. I'm here."

"Okay. So just over a year ago, there was this guy. I really liked him. I mean
really
-- since I was a kid."

"Did Frankie know him?"

"The three of us were best friends. We basically grew up together."

"Complicated."

"Very. So anyway, last year on my birthday, he finally kissed me." Sam stays quiet, focused on his feet taking off and landing against the sand. It feels strange to tell him about this for so many reasons, but the words are coming too fast for me to stop, even if I want to.

"We started hanging out all the time -- even more than before. Every night. Only we didn't know how to tell Frankie, because we didn't want her to freak or feel left out or whatever."

"Makes sense," Sam says.

"He thought it would be better if he told her himself, so I promised him that I wouldn't say anything. But before he could talk to her about it, he --" I almost choke on the word, holding my hand against Sam's arm to stop our forward motion along the shore.

"What did he do?" Sam asks.

"He just -- he -- I'm sorry. Wait." The words of this story have passed a thousand times from my hand to the pages of my journal, but never from my lips to the ears of another living soul. I take a few deep breaths before I'm able to meet Sam's eyes and say it. "He died, Sam. He died from a heart defect that no one knew about."

I tell him about the car accident and wait for the automatic apology, the awkward bumbling, the silence, the farewell-I-can't-deal-with-this. But Sam just wipes my cheeks with his thumbs and hugs me.

"I kept my promise to him. I never told Frankie about us. But when we were at the Vista last night, she read my journal and found out."

Sam pulls away from me. "Wait, she's mad at you about
that
? But what about --"

"There's more, Sam." I shake my head. "Frankie was in the car, too. That's how she got the scar on her eyebrow. The three of us were totally inseparable. Matt is -- Matt
was
-- he's Frankie's brother."

Sam stares at me, eyes and mouth wide open. "Holy
sh
-- I mean,
whoa.
"

"He was going to tell her on their vacation here, when they'd have some time alone. He was so worried about how she'd feel -- he wanted to make sure she was okay with it. They were supposed to leave, like, a month after we got together. I hated sneaking around behind her back, but I promised. A month didn't seem like that long to keep a secret.

"When he died, that was it. Anything I felt stopped mattering -- Frankie lost her brother, and I was their best friend. It was simple. I would keep that secret forever." I take a deep breath, focusing on Sam's soft eyes.

"Anna, I can't believe this," he says gently. "I don't know what to say. I had no idea."

"Frankie and I didn't want to tell you guys. It was gonna be -- I don't know, different here."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain. I guess people get freaked out about the whole death thing, and once they know about it, it's, like, the only thing they associate with you, and all they can do is feel sorry for you. Your whole existence is reduced to that one event."

A new wave of sadness plows into me when I think about all those nights in Frankie's room, not talking or doing anything. Sometimes after school we'd literally just sit on the floor with our backpacks still on, staring at the wall and crying.

The first few months at school were the worst -- people whispering and making compassionate faces as we passed through the halls. Teachers and girls leaving flowers and notes in front of Matt's locker and looking the other way when we skipped class. Most people in our grade -- including our so-called friends -- avoided us as though death and sadness were contagious. Most of them didn't know about his heart, and no one could decide what was worse -- losing a brother and friend, or surviving the car crash that supposedly killed him. No one knew the rules -- what to say, whether it was okay to laugh or complain about things like parents and grades and new shoes when Frankie and I had "serious" problems. But by the middle of the year, Frankie was in full boy-lust mode, things got back to normal for everyone else, and the memory of Matt's death faded like the dried flowers stuck in the vents of his locker.

"God, Anna," Sam says, eyes still wide.

I nod. "We lost a lot of friends after it happened. For the past year it's basically been just me and her. And now, who knows?"

"She's probably just shocked. Maybe you should try to talk it out."

"Sam, she stole and
read
my journal. Then she chucked it into the water. And
then,
I found out she lied to me about -- well, a bunch of stuff she shouldn't have lied about. I don't think we can work it out. I think we're -- breaking up." My voice shakes, wavering between the dueling realms of anger and sadness.

"Come here." Sam puts his arms around me, wrapping me up in the smell of him. We stand in front of the ocean for a long time, his hand making circles on my back as I listen to his heart beat -- strong and whole, like the waves.

"Thanks," I say, pulling away to wipe my eyes and let out about fourteen months of held-in breaths. "You're the only person I've actually told about Matt. Ironic, huh?"

Sam smiles. "Definitely not the 'What I Did on Summer Vacation' stuff I'm used to."

We stand silently, watching the waves for a while, holding hands. His thumb traces my palm gently, lulling me like the rocking of the water before us.

On the walk back, Sam tells me that I should give Frankie another chance.

"I'm not making excuses for her, but think about it. You're best friends, Anna."

"I don't know if I can. She lied to me about pretty major stuff. And she totally violated and destroyed my private thoughts."

"All I'm saying is that you both hurt each other. And you both lost someone you loved. Don't lose each other, too."

"Sure. I think I saw that After-School Special."

He smiles. "Just think about it, okay?"

We make plans to meet up tomorrow night for our final goodbye. Up on the street near the house, Sam kisses me and waits until I'm safely at the door before waving and turning back toward his end of the beach.

The door is still unlocked, and I assume Frankie isn't back yet, though I'm surprised we didn't run into her and Jake on our walk back. But when I get upstairs, Frankie's asleep in her bed as though she'd been there all along, her body rising and falling under the thin white sheet. The moon from the skylight throws her silhouette against the wall and reminds me of when we were kids, how we'd lie on her bed and make shadow puppets on the ceiling with our hands and a flashlight, chattering and giggling until Matt knocked on the wall from his room next door and told us to go to sleep.