Copyright © 2012 Carolyn Turgeon
All rights reserved.
Cover and interior designed by Georgia Rucker
Photo credits: girl, © Dmitriy Shironosov/Shutterstock.com;
cover background photo, © Jaroslaw Grudzinski/Shutterstock.com;
feathers, © Potapov Alexander/Shutterstock.com.
January 2012
ISBN 9781935703723
Downtown Bookworks Inc.
285 West Broadway, New York, New York 10013
www.downtownbookworks.com
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or
are used fictiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,
is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN-13: 978-1-9357-0372-3 (eBook)
DEDICATION
To my mother, father and sister
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would never have come into being if not for Julie Merberg asking to me to write something for her new children’s book publishing company while I was Skyping with her gorgeous family from Berlin, Germany (while they were in Berlin, New York) one autumn afternoon a couple of years ago. I am eternally grateful to Julie for this, and to her brilliant husband, my good friend David Bar Katz, and their wild, beautiful, mop-headed boys Morris, Nathaneal, Kal, and Mac, who were all so much a part of this process. Thank you, too, to everyone else at Downtown Bookworks, especially to Patty, Georgia, and Sarah, as well as to everyone at Simon & Schuster. It’s a wonderful thing, when someone offers you the chance to go back in time and be twelve again.
I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO THANK
My agent Elaine Markson and her fabulous right-hand assistant Gary Johnson.
Miss Hannah Kurtz, who sat down one day and told me
all about the secret lives of adolescents.
Hannah Stout, who’s in love with all insects but with mayflies
in particular and made me (kind of) love them, too.
Olivier Georgeon, who discussed this book with me endlessly
and suggested, in his French and scientific manner, that
budding swan maidens would shed their robes.
My uncle, John Krinbill, who took me to a city full of swans.
Max Spiegel, Chantelle Hodge, and Jim Downes, who
all generously taught me about fly fishing.
Eric Schnall, Jeanine Cummins, Laura Carleton, Mary McMyne,
and Valerie Cates, all of whom read early drafts of this book.
Jill Gleeson, who was there with me as I finished this book, in a 12-hour writing
session at an unglamorous fast food chain, and endured me reading pages and
pages of it out loud to her over the course of that day and several others.
My sister, Catherine, and parents, Alfred and Jean, for being
so supportive and generally being the best family ever.
And, finally, I’d like to thank the real Jeff Jackson, who was the most
popular boy in the 7th grade when I went to MacDonald Middle
School in East Lansing, Michigan in 1983. I don’t think I ever actually
spoke to him, but you really never forget your first crush.
Love, Carolyn
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER ONE
It started with a feather. One little white rounded feather resting on her pillow. Ava didn’t think much of it, though, considering that it was a bright Sunday morning and there were only three weeks left of school and in just over a month she would turn thirteen and the whole summer stretched out before her like a long, shimmering gift. She jumped out of bed, letting the feather blow to the ground, where it landed on the dark wood floor and, after skittering a few inches in the faint breeze, came to a stop. Any passerby might have thought it was a bit of fur and indeed the cat, Monique, eyed it suspiciously as she slinked past Ava’s room and to the kitchen.
Ava stepped over it as she rushed to her bathroom, to the big mirror. She’d spent the day before lying in the backyard on a towel and hoped that for once her skin might have turned tan and smooth, like Jennifer Halverson’s, who, with her sun-drenched blond hair and brown skin, looked like she spent her whole life at the beach even though she lived right smack in the middle of Pennsylvania like the rest of them. Ava half expected to have turned blond and dark-skinned herself overnight, but there she was, staring back at herself, the same as ever. Pale, though now more pink than white, and dark-haired, with navy blue eyes. Boring. She sighed and turned away.
Ava Gardner looks, her grandmother called them. Like the old-time movie star. Women used to walk around with umbrellas to have skin as beautiful as yours. Ava would roll her eyes. “That was like a thousand years ago,” she’d say. When she looked in the mirror, it was like a ghost girl looking out.
But this morning was too beautiful for a little paleness to ruin it. Summer was almost here! The windows were wide open and the air smelled like grass and flowers and trees. The white curtains on her windows fluttered in the breeze, which felt warm and wonderful against her skin. Not too hot, just warm enough.
She clicked on her computer and saw that Morgan was already on IM. “Ready to go?” she typed. “We can work on our tans before anyone else gets there.”
“Sure,” MORGANISAWESOME typed back. “Come’n get me.”
“Be there in 10.”
Ava pulled off her nightshirt and shimmied into her new bathing suit, which she’d been saving. It was the first day her friends and classmates would be going to the lake, where they’d spend the rest of the summer hanging out, day after long blissful day. Ava loved it down there: the trees hanging over the water, the canoes and paddleboats whirring in the distance, the long line of beach, and of course the old carousel next to the stands selling flavored ice and lemonade. She could hardly wait. And she knew that Jeff Jackson would be there—she’d heard him and all his friends planning it the week before.
Even thinking about him here, alone in her room, made her blush.
She wondered what Jeff would think when he saw her in her new suit. Nervously, she examined herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that, worrying that he’d think her stomach wasn’t flat enough, that her thighs were too big. She had to admit that the suit looked good on her, that the red was striking against her long dark hair.
Lately, she was sure that Jeff had started noticing her. He’d smiled at her in the hallway last week, and she hadn’t been able to focus on anything for hours after. But of course she was far too shy to talk to him. In her imagination, though, she’d smiled back and leaned on a locker alluringly. “Going to the lake this weekend?” she’d asked, giving him a wink. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
Now she shook her head and pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed her bag and some flip-flops. She should be a little more brave, she thought. After all, she was about to be a teenager.
“Dad, I’m ready!” she called out, rushing to the kitchen to grab a banana and a granola bar.
No answer.
“Dad!”
Monique stood by the kitchen window and even she ignored Ava, glancing over her shoulder once and then turning back to the hummingbird fluttering about the birdfeeder outside.
Ava rolled her eyes and stomped down to the basement. Her father would be in his workroom, of course. If he wasn’t teaching or out in the creek fishing, he was there. She couldn
’t understand how he could pass hours happily sitting in one spot, making bamboo fishing rods by hand. But he loved it—working with wood, putting together rods and lures that he’d give away or use to fish in the creek. They didn’t even eat the fish he caught! Her dad could spend all day catching fish after fish and then tossing them back into the water. What was the point?
Crazy.
“Dad!”
She rushed down the stairs. Loud jazz was playing behind his shut door. She banged on it, then pushed in.
“Dad!”
His head shot up in surprise, and he looked even more out of sorts than ever, with his wild salt-and-pepper hair and crooked glasses, a mess of bamboo spread out in front of him on the table. The room smelled like wood and varnish.
“Are you trying to give your dad a heart attack?” he asked.
“Your music was on. And you promised to take me and Morgan to the lake.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten a.m. The sun is shining, and I should be outside. So should you!”
“Ten already, huh?” He sighed and grabbed the car keys lying on the table. As he stood, his hand reached out to grab something floating down in the air.
“What’s this?” he asked. He opened his palm. One white feather with blood on the tip. He looked at it and then up at her, his face suddenly worried.
Ava shrugged. “How would I know? You’re the one who spends your whole life down here in the dark. Come on, Dad, we’re late!”
“Okay, okay,” he said, placing the feather on the table and turning to the door. “Let’s go, earlybird.”
Her heart pounded with excitement as they drove to Morgan’s house. Morgan was waiting outside, her bright pink towel rolled up and sticking out of her tote bag. She ran down to the car, all long red hair and freckles and gangling legs and arms, and bounced into the backseat.
Morgan was Ava’s best friend, even though she could be embarrassing with her loud laugh and sometimes—well, oftentimes—spastic behavior. But they had been best friends since nursery school and there was no turning back now. Plus, Morgan was the funniest girl in school.
The drive to the lake was beautiful, as they left their little college town and headed into the countryside, where the roads turned narrow and winding and everything was bright green and charming little cabins popped up on the side of the road. They crossed mountains that looked over entire valleys coated in a morning mist. Finally, they turned down the gravel lane that led into the lake parking lot.
The girls gathered their things and Ava assured her father that she’d be home by dinnertime, that Morgan’s mother would be picking them up in the afternoon.
“What are you doing today, Dad?” she asked, feeling suddenly guilty for leaving him alone. He was alone so often.
“I think I might head to the creek, do some fishing,” he said. “Get a little sun.” He made a face at her.
“Maybe you should go out with some friends or something,” she said. “I hear some people actually like that kind of thing. Friends and stuff.”
“Ha ha. Now off with you both.”
Ava watched after him as he drove away and then she and Morgan rushed down to the lake. She tried to walk as calmly as she could, aware at every moment that Jeff could be there already. She scanned the beach, which was not yet full of people the way she knew it would be later. She and Morgan were the first ones there from their school. A smattering of other people were setting out towels and picnic baskets.
They set down their bags and towels in a prime spot, close to the water, and stripped down to their bathing suits.
As Ava started rubbing herself with tanning lotion, Morgan pulled out a huge pair of pink, heart-shaped sunglasses and put them on. “I’m sorry, my friend, but you are glowing,” she said.
“I laid out yesterday.”
“You’re supposed to lay out in the sun, dummy.”
“I did, you dork. And look how white you are, too.”
“I’m a redhead, I’m supposed to be the color of porcelain. Like Nicole Kidman.”
“Whatever. Your glasses are stupid. They clash with your hair.”
“Stupid awesome, maybe.”
Ava sighed loudly and lay back on the towel. “Well. Don’t come crying to me when you get heart-shaped tan lines on your face.”
They both broke into giggles. The sun beat down, already making them sweat.
“I wish it could stay summer forever,” Morgan said, after a few minutes.
“Me, too.”
“Let’s move to California.”
“Okay. We can be movie stars there.”
“And have a pool.”
“And a convertible.”
Ava closed her eyes and pictured the two of them riding around in a convertible with scarves around their necks, blowing kisses as people waved at them from the streets. Jennifer Halverson would come running up for an autograph and Ava would push down her sunglasses and ask, “Do I know you?” Of course Jeff Jackson would be in the car with them and he wouldn’t remember her either.
“Let’s swim a little,” Morgan said, after a while.
“Okay,” Ava answered, reluctantly coming out of her reverie. The beach was much more crowded now. Towels and bodies were spread out in every direction.
They headed to the water, and Ava broke into a run. She never felt more happy or free than she did here. It was summer, finally! The lake was a dark, beautiful blue. Morgan dashed ahead of her.
“It’s freezing!” Morgan called as she plunked her foot into the lake.
Ava didn’t care. The cold never bothered her. She dove straight in, and, as always, it was like entering another world. All the sounds went mute, the smells went away, and the world turned hushed and dark. She smiled into the water as she pushed forward. Twisting around, moving onto her back and her sides, coming up for air and then pushing back under. There were people all around and yet she couldn’t have felt more alone than she did then. But in the best possible way.
She pushed her head above water again and swam out to the buoys. In the distance, a line of trees, like fringe, reached up to the sky.
And then behind her, laughter.
She turned.
Morgan was standing in the water laughing, talking to him. Jeff Jackson. Tall and manly. Well, maybe not manly, but surely the only boy in seventh grade who was almost as tall as her father, with broad shoulders, a dimpled chin, and bright blond hair.
He caught her eye and without thinking she immediately ducked her head underwater. Wishing she could hide away.
Then she realized how stupid she looked.
She wanted to disappear at the bottom of the lake. Why did she always have to be so dorky? Why couldn’t she act like the girl in her fantasies?
She squeezed her eyes shut and played a movie in her head of what she should have done: smiled at him elegantly, tossing her hair like Jennifer Halverson was always doing. Doesn’t the water feel divine, Jeffrey, she might have said as she walked toward him, shaking her hips back and forth like an old-time movie actress.
Then she imagined what was happening right now. Lord knows what embarrassing things Morgan was telling him while she hid in the lake.
Suddenly she desperately needed more air. She shot her head above the water and immediately started to cough and heave.
Jeff and Morgan were standing right there watching her.
“Smooth move, ex-lax,” Morgan said, as if Ava wasn’t horrified enough.
But Jeff was just smiling at her. The sun shining behind his head made his hair glow, as if he’d dropped straight down from heaven.
“Hey do you want to get a lemonade with me?” he asked.
Before she could stop herself, she turned around to make sure he was really asking her, Ava Lewis, to go and get a lemonade with him.
“He means you,” Morgan hissed.
Ava stared at him, stunned. He’d never spoken to her before. For a moment she thought this might be some kind of practical joke. A few
months before a few of the popular kids had gotten together and told poor Beth Miller that Ian Franklin wanted to “go with her.” Everyone knew that Beth was madly in love with Ian. Beth said yes right away and went up to Ian, who actually laughed when Beth called him her boyfriend. Beth had cried and gone home early. It was awful.
But this was Jeff Jackson in the flesh and he didn’t seem to be joking.
She stared at him so long he started to smile, then break into laughter. “Come on, it’s just a lemonade,” he said. “I won’t kidnap you, I promise.”
“Okay,” she croaked. Her face burned with embarrassment. She was such a dork.
She glanced back at Morgan as they walked away together, and her friend smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign. Ava quickly looked away.
Jeff was as smooth and relaxed as ever, striding beside her. They passed a group of the popular girls, who must have all just arrived, and she could feel them eyeing her. Especially Jennifer Halverson, who did not look at all happy. Ava walked with her chin up, trying not to think about them all staring at her—not only walking with Jeff Jackson but in a bathing suit no less. She sucked in her stomach.
“I never really talked to Morgan before,” Jeff said. “She’s pretty funny.”
“Yeah,” she said. She tried to think of something to add but her mind went pathetically blank. It always went blank when she needed to say something important.
“She says you live alone with your dad, who’s some kind of professor?”
“Yeah.”
“My dad is, too. That’s what I want to be, a professor.”
“Of what?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe bugs.”
“Bugs?”
“Yeah, I love them. I collect beetles.”
“Oh.”
Fortunately, they walked up to the lemonade stand right then, so Ava didn’t have to say anything about his gross collecting habits.
“Two lemonades,” Jeff said, pulling out a five-dollar bill.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the drink. She took a sip, and it was like drinking candy. She smiled at him happily.
“You want to walk over to the carousel?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, wondering if he was going to start looking for beetles. She thought if he did, she might die.
The Next Full Moon Page 1
