Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Cecilia Vinesse
Cover art copyright © Lisa Kolbasa/Shutterstock.com
Cover design by Karina Granda
Cover copyright © 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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Poppy
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First Edition: June 2018
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Vinesse, Cecilia, author.
Title: The summer of us / by Cecilia Vinesse.
Description: First edition. | New York ; Boston : Little, Brown and Company, 2018. | “Poppy.” | Summary: Told from two viewpoints, Rae, Aubrey, Clara, Jonah, and Gabe travel through Europe by train for ten days, working through their relationships just before setting off in different directions for college.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017018095| ISBN 9780316391139 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780316391122 (ebook) | ISBN 9780316391153 (library edition ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Friendship—Fiction. | Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. | Railroad travel—Fiction. | Europe—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.V57 Sum 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017018095
ISBNs: 978-0-316-39113-9 (hardcover), 978-0-316-39112-2 (ebook)
E3-20180425-JV-PC
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1. Aubrey
2. Rae
3. Aubrey
4. Rae
5. Aubrey
6. Rae
7. Aubrey
8. Rae
9. Aubrey
10. Rae
11. Aubrey
12. Rae
13. Aubrey
14. Rae
15. Aubrey
16. Rae
17. Aubrey
18. Rae
19. Aubrey
20. Rae
21. Aubrey
22. Rae
23. Aubrey
24. Rae
25. Aubrey
26. Rae
27. Aubrey
28. Rae
29. Aubrey
30. Rae
31. Aubrey
32. Rae
Acknowledgments
For Rachel, again and always
1
Aubrey
Thursday, June 30 to Friday, July 1
LONDON
When Aubrey thought about the trip, she imagined her whole life expanding.
She imagined moving beyond the walls of her tiny room in London and beyond high school and beyond everything that had seemed so important when she was a kid. She saw herself on a train, watching the world become a rush of color outside her window. Feeling like everything she’d been waiting for was about to begin.
But that didn’t mean she was ready.
“Of course you are,” Rae said over the phone. “You’re so ready it’s disturbing.”
“Disturbing how?” Aubrey perched on the edge of her bed. In one corner of the room, she saw everything she’d already packed for tomorrow: her new backpack filled with T-shirts, shorts, and SPF 50. Beside it, a stack of paperbacks from her summer reading list and a folder of all the train schedules she’d printed out over the past few weeks. In the opposite corner sat two open suitcases with a few sweaters resting inside and a different pile of books—her favorite ones, the ones she’d been carefully curating since March, the ones she would bring with her to New York.
Aubrey turned away from that corner.
“You have the organizational skills of a robot,” Rae said. “You’ve wanted to go to Columbia since forever, and you’ve been planning this trip all year, and—ow! Crap! Ow!”
“What is it? What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m toasting marshmallows for dinner, and I burned myself.”
“Rae Tara Preston. What would your mother say?”
“She’s right here, and she says, ‘Give me some. I’m hungry.’”
Aubrey pulled her legs onto the bed and crossed them. Down the hall, she could hear her brother, Chris, blasting Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade in his bedroom while her parents washed the dinner dishes in the kitchen. The kids next door must have been playing in their backyard, because squeals of laughter floated up through her open window. It all felt so normal and familiar. Aubrey swore she could close her eyes and convince herself that this was a regular summer night. That in a few weeks she would be going back to the London American School. That all her friends would be right there with her.
“Guess what?” Rae asked, breaking the silence. “In less than twenty-four hours, we’ll be in Paris!”
Aubrey sighed and lay back. “This is a good idea, right? I mean, we’re not going to get axe-murdered or anything, are we?”
“Do axe murderers hang out on trains?”
“They did in that horror movie. The one Jonah and Gabe made us watch.”
“Oh my God. That movie was such sexist trash.”
“Fine. But what about Strangers on a Train? Or Murder on the Orient Express? More murderers, more trains.”
“Aubs,” Rae said, “this is supposed to be fun. We’re young and we’re free and we get to travel around Europe for, like, nearly two weeks. You get to make out with your boyfriend in five major European cities.”
“Weird,” Aubrey said. “Don’t talk about me and Jonah making out in front of your mom.”
“She’s sketching something. She can barely even hear me. Besides, I think she knows you guys make out. She knows you’re living together next year.”
“We’re not living together. Columbia and NYU aren’t even in the same part of Manhattan.”
“Yeah, okay, but—Ow! These fucking marshmallows!”
Aubrey exhaled a laugh. It was starting to get dark out, so she sat up and flicked on her bedside lamp. A pool of light illuminated her old-fashioned alarm clock and the two framed pictures beside it. One was of her and Chris at their grandparents’ old house in Shelton, Connecticut. The other definitely hadn’t been there earlier—her mom must have found it in the closet when she was helping Aubrey pack. It had been taken only a few weeks ago, after the last performance of the summer musical, but already that night seemed untouchable. Like something from a completely different part of Aubrey’s life. Her friends were a frozen blur of messy hair and smudged stage makeup. A poster for Singin’ in the Rain hung on the wall behind them. Clara waved a bouquet of red flowers over their heads, and Aubrey stood next to Gabe, her eyes crinkled at something he’d just said.
Instinctively, she turned off her lamp, ma
king the image of her friends disappear. Like a curtain had fallen over them.
The room went dark, and outside the window, she could see the heavy violet of the sunset sky, bruised with clouds. She got up and peered out at the line of trees that separated her street from the ones behind it. She craned her neck, trying to see between the branches, imagining the short path that led from her house to Gabe’s—past pubs and shops and bike racks, following the River Thames before finally reaching his front door.
“Aubs?” Rae asked through a mouthful of marshmallow. “You still here?”
Aubrey dropped into her desk chair. “I’m still here.” She played with the keyboard on her laptop, flicking between open tabs on her browser. “Hey,” she said. “Did you know that tomorrow we’ll be in Paris?”
“Dude, yes. I am so unbelievably ready.”
“Yup,” Aubrey said. “Me too.”
And she tried to believe it—she tried again to think of this as a beginning. As the moment her life spiraled outward into something bigger and more exciting. But now when she pictured herself on a train, all she could see was it moving quickly into the distance, everything behind her getting smaller and smaller—until it was gone.
“I made coffee,” Rae’s mom, Lucy, said as she opened the front door a few seconds after Aubrey had knocked.
“Thanks.” Aubrey put her backpack down by the coatrack and accepted the purple ceramic mug.
“Mom,” Rae said from the top of the stairs, her American accent contrasting sharply with Lucy’s crisp British one. “We don’t have time for coffee. We’re going to miss our train.”
“It’s almost one in the afternoon,” Aubrey said. “Did you just wake up?”
Rae gestured at her bed head and frog-printed pajama pants. “Your powers of deduction are outstanding.” She disappeared back into her room, her dog, Iorek, trotting at her feet. Aubrey exchanged looks with Lucy, who shrugged and said, “She’ll mellow out post-coffee.” Rae’s mom was dressed the way she always was—in an off-the-shoulder top, paint-splattered jeans, and feather earrings that made her look more like a cool older cousin than a parent. Although, to be fair, she was pretty young for an adult—Aubrey had come over for her thirty-seventh birthday party just last month.
“You should sit down.” Lucy cleared a box of paint tubes from a blue velvet armchair and gestured for Aubrey to take a seat. The living room seemed even more chaotic than usual. New hiking boots and rain jackets were heaped on the floor alongside shopping bags and open shipping boxes. Aubrey had been hanging out here since she’d moved to London seven years ago, but she still couldn’t get over how little the inside of the house matched the outside. Rae and her mom lived near Hyde Park in a row of terraced homes that, together, looked like an immaculate white sheet cake. The exterior of their house was all grand columns and Juliet balconies and elaborate moldings, but inside, Rae and Lucy lived among mismatched antique furniture, handmade clay sculptures, and canvases propped up against one another. Each wall was painted a different color, some of them with lines of pink hydrangeas added, others with white clouds sponged on.
“How are your parents?” Lucy asked. “They must be excited for you.”
Aubrey sipped her coffee, which had way too much sugar in it. “They’re—hyperventilating, I think. But okay.” She didn’t add that before she’d left that morning, her dad had made her recite the phone number of every American embassy in every country she was visiting.
“Don’t let them worry you,” Lucy said. “You’ll have an amazing time. It’s the perfect age for traveling around and being aimless. You don’t have to make any big life decisions yet.”
“Actually,” Aubrey said, “I already know what I’m going to major in.”
Lucy held her coffee mug over her mouth, trying to hide a smirk. Right, Aubrey thought. She probably means different kinds of decisions. Bigger decisions. Not that Aubrey could think of a bigger decision. She’d known she would major in English since she was fourteen, and she’d always hoped she would get into Columbia. After she graduated from college, she would get her master’s and then her PhD. And after that, she would apply for jobs as either an editor or a literature professor. She had it all worked out.
“Aubrey!” Rae shouted. “I need you!”
Aubrey took her coffee and went upstairs. Rae had already changed into a pair of ripped jeans and a Sleater-Kinney T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Her long, curly hair was twisted into a topknot now, and she was standing in the middle of her room, bed unmade and clothes strewn around her feet. “Tell me what to bring,” she said.
“You’re not packed?” Aubrey slammed the door behind her.
“No, I’m totally packed,” Rae said. “This is just performance art.”
Aubrey shoved the mug into Rae’s hands. “Just drink this. Your mom said it would help. And shove whatever you can into a bag. We’ll sort it out in Paris.”
They crouched on the floor and started cramming pajamas and cutoffs into Rae’s backpack. Iorek settled his enormous form between them, thumping his fluffy white tail on the ground. Aubrey was almost glad for a few extra minutes in Rae’s room. She felt like she belonged there just as much as she did in her own. She recognized each of Rae’s sketches tacked to the walls and every photograph pegged to a clothesline strung across the ceiling. She knew that the beanbag chair in the corner covered a carpet burn from when Rae had attempted to flatiron her hair. And she’d been there the Boxing Day after Rae got her first camera and they’d spent hours jumping on the bed to Tegan and Sara, taking blurry photographs of each other.
“Camera!” Aubrey said suddenly. “And your sketchbook! You can’t forget those.”
“Duh,” Rae said. “I packed all of that days ago.”
“No clothes, no toiletries, but you remembered your camera.”
“Yup.” Rae stopped packing for a second and slurped the coffee. “Hey. So. You’re doing better now, right?”
“Better about what?” Aubrey folded a white tank top in half.
Rae raised an eyebrow. “About college. And leaving home. All that stuff you were freaking out about last night.”
“I’m fine,” Aubrey said. “I had a few pre-travel jitters, that’s all.”
“Okay. So you’re not in any way nervous about spending the next thirteen days with—”
“Gabe?” Aubrey finished for her. She stopped folding. Even saying his name made her feel dizzy, like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, gazing down. “Of course not,” she said. “I can handle this. I’m an adult now.”
“You’re eighteen.”
“Exactly! I can vote. I can drink in most European countries.”
“Honestly?” Rae said. “I figured he’d be over it by now. I mean, he’s a straight dude. Straight dudes can only remember things that happened five minutes ago, right?”
“They’re not goldfish.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know. Crap! My passport! Can you grab it from my desk?”
“You were about to leave your passport?” Aubrey hopped up. The passport sat under a messy pile of papers, most of them from the University of Melbourne. Aubrey picked through glossy brochures and photocopied visa applications and printouts of plane reservations, the sight of it all making her feel like she was on that precipice again, reminding her that two weeks from now, right after they came home from this trip, Rae and Lucy would get on a plane and fly to Australia. Rae’s school year didn’t start until January, so it seemed ridiculous that she had to leave so soon, but Lucy wanted time to travel first. All last winter and spring, they’d shown Aubrey pictures of the places they were planning to go—endless golden beaches and coastal roads that seemed to fade into the sky. Soon, Rae would be there, half a world away, blending into the scenery.
And Aubrey would be somewhere else entirely.
“Dude.” Rae hoisted her bag onto her back. “I think we’re done.”
“Definitely.” Aubrey pushed aside her sticky feelings of worry and handed Rae the
passport.
Rae stuffed it into her back pocket and held on to both of Aubrey’s wrists. Her green eyes were bright and gleaming. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
2
Rae
Friday, July 1
LONDON to PARIS
London to Paris to Amsterdam. Prague to Florence to Barcelona.
Rae knew which cities they were going to and when, but she mentally recited them anyway as she and Aubrey rode the tube to King’s Cross station.
London to Paris to Amsterdam.
Prague to Florence to Barcelona.
She knew the exact route they were taking—a line that carved from country to country, that bumped through cities and skirted along bodies of water. This was the trip Aubrey had been planning all year, the one they’d both been talking about since middle school. And it was finally happening.
The tube huffed to a stop at Russell Square, letting a group of people jostle off and another jostle on. Two women wearing business suits squeezed past Rae’s legs, forcing her to hug her backpack to her chest. Aubrey was looking through the map of Paris she’d downloaded onto her phone, whispering directions to herself, while Rae scrounged in her pocket for a stick of strawberry gum.
The tube started moving again. One more stop to go.
Rae wasn’t nervous—not exactly, anyway. And definitely not in the same way Aubrey was. She’d gone backpacking with her mom before, and she’d always loved the whole concept of train travel.
The constant forward momentum.
The going and going and feeling like you’d never slow down.
“We made it!” Aubrey said a few minutes later. They were heading across the busy outdoor plaza that led from King’s Cross to St. Pancras International, where they’d catch the Eurostar to Paris.
“We rode the tube.” Rae shoved her bangs away from her eyes, making the bangles on her wrist clink together. “We do that every day.”
“You’re just showing off,” Aubrey said, “because you’re more British than the rest of us.”
“Only technically,” Rae countered. Because honestly, she’d never really thought of herself as British. That was her mom—Lucy had grown up in London, but Rae was born in Georgia when her mom was a freshman in college. They’d stayed in the States until Rae was nine, after her grandmother died and left them an enormous house and a boatload of money.
The Summer of Us Page 1
