“Who—what are you—get out of here!”
“Chill out, don’t shoot or anything!”
“Don’t kill me, I’m from Minnesota!”
A silence, during which Summer listened to the panic-driven jackhammer beat of her heart. Her teeth rattled.
“Did you just say ‘Don’t kill me, I’m from Minnesota’?”
“Uh-uh-uh-uh, yes,” Summer chattered.
“What’s Minnesota got to do with anything?”
“Uh, nothing, I guess.”
“Who are you?” he asked, coming warily closer.
Now Summer could see that he wasn’t a monster. He could still be an ax murderer, but not a monster. He had long, wet, shoulder-length blond hair and wore only a madras bathing suit that clung to him damply.
“I’m Summer. Sum-sumsum-sum Summer Smith.”
“Oh.”
“Who are you?” Summer managed to ask. Her voice sounded strained with the tightness in her throat and the still-chattering teeth.
“I’m Diver.”
“Diver?”
“Yeah.” He sounded defiant. “Like Summer is some kind of normal name?”
“What are you doing here?” Summer demanded.
“What am I doing here?” Diver asked, mildly outraged. He took a sip of his Pepsi and sat the candle down on her desk, balancing it carefully. “What are you doing here?”
“Living here,” Summer said. “And people know I’m here, so don’t try anything.”
“I live here,” Diver said. “At least, I mean, I use the bathroom and the kitchen here. I don’t sleep here.” He pulled out the desk chair. “I usually sleep up on the roof.”
“You can’t live here; my aunt owns this place.”
“Oh. She’s that rich lady with really big hair?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t care who owns it,” Diver said. “I live here. I’ve been coming here for…for like months.”
“Fine, I’m not going to call the cops or anything,” Summer said. “Just go away and don’t come back. Okay?” She was gaining courage from the fact that Diver hadn’t done anything sudden. Yet. And, not that you could tell just by looking, but he didn’t look dangerous. In fact, by the candle’s light he looked…beautiful. There was no other word for it. Beautiful.
“Where am I supposed to take a shower and cook breakfast and sleep when it rains?”
Summer shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d have an answer for that,” Diver said triumphantly.
“You sure can’t live with me, and I live here, so that’s it,” Summer said flatly.
“Go stay in your aunt’s house,” Diver said. “She must have plenty of room.”
“I can’t,” Summer said. “I can’t stay there, I can’t go home to Bloomington, I have to stay here. I’m stuck.”
“Me too,” Diver said. “We’re both stuck.”
“Excuse me, but whatever you’re thinking, forget it,” Summer said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t, like, go out with guys I meet creeping into my room in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t go out with girls at all.”
“Oh. Are you…not that it’s any of my business. I mean, I don’t have a problem if you’re gay or anything like that…”
Diver tilted back his head and looked at her with a certain distant intensity. “I no longer involve myself with women. They disturb my wa.”
“Wa?”
“My wa. My inner harmony. Haven’t you ever read any eastern philosophy?” Diver smiled placidly, looking quite smug and superior. Then the smugness dropped away. “But I’m not gay,” he said. “Not that I would care. I’m just saying I’m not. If I were, then women wouldn’t disturb my wa the way they do.”
“Whatever. Just get out, okay?”
Diver stood up. “It’s a beautiful night. I’ll sleep outside with Frank.”
“Fine. Whatever you say. Just leave.”
He turned away and headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Frank isn’t a dude, by the way, so forget it if that’s what you’re thinking.” He nodded as if he’d reached some profound decision. “Tomorrow I’ll talk to Frank. Then he can decide which of us stays and which goes.”
Summer rushed over as soon as he was gone and locked the door behind him. Then she ran back and, huffing and grunting, slid the desk over the hatchway.
“There,” she muttered. “Now you and your wa will have a real hard time getting back in.”
7
Raisin Toast, Imaginary Figments, and the Amazing Marquez
Diana took a while looking through the contents of her walk-in closet, searching for the right thing to wear. The right thing turned out to be white shorts and a white bikini top. White reflected sunlight and hence was cooler than other colors.
Also, white looked innocent. And, she decided as she descended the stairs, she needed all the help she could get in looking innocent. She didn’t feel innocent. She felt like a selfish, rotten human being who had tricked her cousin into spending the night in a mildewy dump. Once, in the dark hours of the early morning, she’d almost gotten up and gone down to the stilt house to get Summer and bring her back.
But really, she was doing Summer a favor. Summer might think she wanted to be here, but that was only because Summer didn’t understand anything.
The set of stairs led directly from just outside her room to the breakfast room. And there, sitting at the long pine table, was Summer. At least her cousin hadn’t been murdered in the night. That was a relief. Diana didn’t need any new reasons to hate herself.
Summer looked up from her plate and smiled. Smiled that big, happy-yet-shy smile that made you think you’d never seen anyone whose name so matched her looks.
“Hi,” Summer said, chewing. “I hope it’s all right. I don’t have any food down at my house yet.”
“Of course it’s all right,” Diana said quickly. She tried out her most innocent look. “You have to eat.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you find everything you want?” Diana asked. “I mean, here in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, all I eat is raisin toast for breakfast, mostly.”
“Raisin toast?” Diana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “That’s what I have in the morning too.”
“No way.” Summer laughed a little and looked amused.
“What?” Diana demanded.
“Nothing. It’s just, I figured you had something different. Like eggs Benedict or something.”
Diana went to the toaster. The bread was still out on the gray marble counter. “Why would I eat eggs Benedict?”
Summer shrugged. “I don’t know. That was just the most fancy breakfast thing I could think of. You always hear about movie stars having eggs Benedict and champagne.”
“No champagne,” Diana said dryly. “Coffee. You drink coffee?”
Summer nodded. “Only, I couldn’t figure out how to work your machine.”
“I’ll do it. It’s kind of complicated.” Diana dumped whole beans into the grinder, sent them spinning, and then measured the grounds into the coffee machine. “Coffee and raisin toast,” she muttered, watching the back of Summer’s head.
“Every morning almost. I’ll have to buy a toaster and a coffee machine for my house.”
A little stab of guilt made Diana wince. “How…um, how was…did you sleep okay?”
Summer turned around in her chair, but her blue eyes were evasive. “I slept okay, I guess. I was going to ask you, though…”
“Ask me what?” Diana almost snapped.
“Just that I was wondering if you knew of anyone who used the stilt house for anything.”
Diana shrugged. Her toast popped up. The coffee began to dribble down, sending the aroma through the room. “No one’s used it for anything in two years, at least. Not since the last renter moved out.”
“Huh.”
“Why?”
Summer sighed h
eavily and again looked evasive. “I don’t know. I think I just had this dream that some guy was there. But when I got up, there was this burned candle and one of the Pepsis was gone. I guess I could have been walking in my sleep.”
“You walk in your sleep?” Diana wondered.
“No. Never before, anyway. I dream a lot, though, and in my dreams I walk around.”
“I try not to dream,” Diana said.
Silence fell between them. The coffee machine dripped and then began its final sputtering.
“He was cute, though,” Summer said.
“Who? The dream guy?” Diana poured two cups of coffee and carried them with her toast to the table.
“Yeah, he was way cute. Beyond cute.”
“Then it must have been a dream,” Diana pronounced. “A figment of your imagination.”
“I guess so,” Summer agreed. “Do you ever have dreams like that?”
“Me?” The question took Diana by surprise. “No, at least not that I remember.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Diana squirmed a little in the chair. “Not right at the moment.”
“I’ve never had one,” Summer admitted. “Not a real one.”
Diana made a face. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. Why would I make up something like that?”
The confession, made so simply and straightforwardly, took Diana aback. There was nothing wrong with not having a boyfriend—in fact, in Diana’s experience it was probably better that way—but Summer was just so out front about it. Most girls would have tried to act cooler about it. Like, hey, the guys are after me, but they’re all too immature.
“I guess you’ve probably had lots of boyfriends,” Summer said.
“One or two,” Diana admitted. This was the wrong topic. The absolutely wrong topic. It was as if Summer had some instinct guiding her to the last thing on earth that Diana wanted to talk about.
“There was a guy back home that I really liked, only he didn’t know I existed.” Summer made a wry, self-deprecating face. “I have much better luck in my dreams.”
Diana laughed and then quickly took a sip of her coffee. She’d have to watch herself. For a moment there she’d found herself kind of liking her cousin. “So, what are you going to do today?”
“I’m going to look around and maybe get a job,” Summer said. “Would you come with me? I mean, unless you have something planned?”
“Why would you want me to come with you?” What was it with this girl? Why was she so nice? She wasn’t an idiot; she must know Diana was trying to blow her off.
“I thought it might be fun,” Summer said. “Besides, I’m new here, so if I go around with you everyone will think ‘oh, okay, she must not be a total nobody if she’s with Diana.’”
Diana finished her coffee and stared darkly at the bottom of her cup. Yes, she was definitely going to have to work at disliking her cousin.
In the end Diana decided not to come with her into town, and Summer was actually relieved. It was a wonderful feeling to be walking along the road, free, on her own, almost undisturbed by traffic, feeling the sun on her shoulders and arms. She turned her face to the sun, already most of the way up the sky though it wasn’t yet ten in the morning.
A huge, brilliantly white bird, almost chest tall, stepped on stilt legs out onto the road before her. It tilted its serpentine neck to turn a quizzical eye on Summer.
“Hi,” Summer said, standing still so as not to frighten it. But the egret wasn’t frightened in the least. It tiptoed gracefully across the road.
“Reminds me of Diana,” Summer said. Diana had that same grace, that same elegance.
That same disdain.
Too bad, Summer thought. She’d felt as if she were almost bonding with her cousin over raisin toast and coffee, but then Diana had pulled away again.
Summer shrugged. It was impossible to feel bad when the sun was in the sky and the air was warm. She stuck her arms straight out and tilted back her head, soaking up the light, closing her eyes to see the red suffusing her eyelids.
Something slapped into her left arm.
“Hey, watch where you’re swinging those!” someone yelled.
Summer opened her eyes and saw a girl running in place, pumping her arms, sweat staining her spandex top. She had dark curly hair; huge, dark eyes; and a naturally dark complexion. An iPod was strapped to her arm, and headphones rested in her ears.
“Sorry,” Summer said. “I thought I was alone.”
“Can’t hear you. You like the sun, huh?” the girl shouted, still running in place.
“Yes!” Summer yelled.
“Cool!” The girl ran in circles around Summer. “You’re new, right?”
Summer turned slowly to keep facing her. “Yes. I just got here yesterday.”
“Huh?”
“Yesterday!” Summer said in a louder voice. “I just got here yesterday.”
“When?”
“YESTERDAY.”
“Huh?”
“I SAID YESTERDAY!” Summer screamed.
The girl stopped running and broke up laughing. She pulled the earphones from her head. She bent over, hands on her knees, laughing and looking up at Summer with tears in her eyes. “Batteries are dead,” the girl managed to gasp, pointing at the iPod.
Summer was annoyed for a moment. But then, it was kind of funny. She laughed at the image of herself, screaming at the top of her voice.
The girl stopped laughing and looked at her quizzically. “You laugh, huh? That’s a good thing.” She pointed a finger at Summer. “I can’t stand people who can’t laugh at themselves. People that take themselves all serious. I’m Marquez.”
“You’re what?”
“Marquez. That’s my name. Technically it’s Maria Esmeralda Marquez, but hey, every Cuban-American female on earth is named Maria, right, and there’s no way I’m going to be called Esmeralda, so I go by Marquez.” She extended a damp hand.
“I’m Summer Smith,” Summer said, shaking her hand.
“I don’t think so. Summer?”
“I’m afraid it’s true.”
“Yeah? Well, let me ask you, Summer—you think my thighs are too fat?” Marquez turned around so Summer could check all angles.
“No, not at all,” Summer answered honestly.
“All right. In that case, why should I be out here running? I hate exercise. What are you doing?”
Summer shrugged. “I was going to check out the town.”
Marquez laughed. “That should kill about five minutes.”
“Plus I have to find a job,” Summer said.
They set off toward town, walking side by side, with Marquez drying her face on her terry-cloth wristbands. “Job? What kind of job you want? What do you know how to do?”
“Nothing, really,” Summer admitted.
“Oh, in that case I know where you can get a job, you poor girl.”
“Really?” Summer asked eagerly.
“Yeah, the C ’n’ C is looking for more victims, I mean, waitresses. The Crab ’n’ Conch. Picture this—a restaurant run by the Marines. Except they’re not actually Marines, because then, you know, they’d have to have some decency.”
“I don’t know how to be a waitress.”
“That’s okay. They don’t want people who know what they’re doing. They like to get them young and impressionable; you know, so they can mold you into a perfect robot. I know all this because I work there.”
“You make it sound really fun,” Summer said dryly.
Marquez grinned. “It’s hateful, but with the tips and all it’s good money. I’ll take you there and introduce you to one of the managers. So, where are you staying?”
“My aunt and my cousin live here.”
“Yeah? Who are they? I probably know them. I know everyone. It’s a small island.”
“My aunt is Mallory Olan, and my cousin’s Diana.”
Marquez stopped and stared, incredulous. “You’re staying wit
h Diana Olan? Wait a minute—you’re related to Diana Olan?”
“She’s my cousin, on my dad’s side of the family. You know her?”
“Sure. She’s in school, or at least she was, because now she’s graduated. You can’t be related to Diana,” Marquez said. “You seem way too nice and normal.”
Summer winced. There it was again—the N word. Nice. Nice, meaning average, meaning who cares?
“You’re the second person who’s said that,” Summer said.
“Who was the first?”
“This guy named Seth.”
“Mr. Moon! Mr. Moon is back? All right, the summer is starting to pick up,” Marquez said. “He’s a nice guy.”
Summer nodded. Some nice guy. A nice guy who lied about having a girlfriend so he could…Summer shuddered a little. Why wasn’t she able to just forget that stupid kiss? Why did it still seem to reverberate through her body whenever she thought about it?
“Nice and cute,” Marquez said appreciatively. “Not my type, though. Besides, he’s got this girlfriend he’s been going with forever. Was she with him?”
“No. Lianne, right?”
“Yeah, Lianne.” Marquez stuck her finger down her throat and made a gagging noise.
“You don’t like Lianne?” Summer asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
“She’s okay. She’s just one of these totally dependent types. You know, hanging all over Seth and not letting him have fun. I wish I had her body, though. She shops petites. Complains because she can’t find things in size two.”
Summer nodded. Lianne would have to have a great body.
Forget about it, Summer, she told herself firmly. Get over it. Put it behind you. Jeez, it was just a kiss. Big deal. Actually, it was two kisses. That doesn’t matter; it was just something that happened. Forget about it.
Marquez interrupted her thoughts. “So, Summer, since you’re staying with Diana, tell me this—is it true she sleeps in a coffin at night? Oh, maybe I shouldn’t say things like that. I mean, she is your cousin and all.”
“I don’t really know her that well,” Summer admitted.
“Actually, she’s not so bad,” Marquez said. “Just strange, you know? Stays to herself, especially in the past year. I mean, she was always kind of private, right? But this last year it’s like no one is even allowed to talk to her because she’s become just way too cool.”
Beach Blondes Page 4
